The older I get, the more I think that New Year’s is a pointless holiday. It is a giant celebration centered around a single split second, when the clock transitions from 11:59 p.m. to midnight, as it does on most nights. But if you obey my life’s motto — “Always give in to peer pressure” — then, inevitably, you will be talked into going out on New Year’s Eve.
This year I went with a group of friends to Park Street Saloon. I had never been, so I asked some of them what I should expect. The most resounding and concise advice I received was to “dress to impress.”
Now, I have been dressing myself for some time, but I’m not sure anyone has ever been impressed by it. One thing was certain, however: My usual attire — stained jeans, T-shirt and Indians pullover — would not make the cut.
It is my belief that most men do not normally worry about the clothes they wear. We remember what a pain it was to shop for them and therefore have a general dislike toward anything made of thread. I fit into this category, so I decided to wait until I saw what others were wearing before making my decision. I ended up going along with the crowd and wearing a button-up shirt and dark jeans — the best the bottom of the closet had to offer. It was New Year’s, after all!
After arriving at Park Street, I saw that I had conformed nicely. The general wear at the place could be described as a skanky prom night for the women and a metrosexual night for the men.
I am now proud to say that I am officially licensed to provide some advice of my own.
The first thing to do after entering the bar is to calculate just how much money could be spent in a place like that. It is best to order a few different drinks right away — strictly for research purposes, of course. It doesn’t take many drinks at the price of $46 an ounce to realize that this isn’t your typical Out-r-Inn mug night.
Shortly after embarking on the research process, you will find it useful to locate the nearest restroom, which, depending on your location, might be in New Hampshire. Do not be alarmed if at first you think that there is no men’s restroom. It very well could be — as it was in my case — that women are haphazardly walking into it. I at least think they were women.
On your journey to the restroom, it is fun to consider just how great a haunted house Park Street Saloon would make, with its many corners, corridors and catacombs. If you have never been to Park Street, then this paragraph is probably lost on you. Simply move to the next.
Finally, settle in and find a good place to rest your elbows, such as lodging them under your rib cage like everyone else. You might experience tenderness and swelling the next morning, but do not be upset.
You have 365 days to heal.
