It’s only right to start the New Year off with family or inebriated friends…of which I had the pleasure of half assedly doing so…at 1:30am on January 1st…in a little red car…outside a now seemingly ex-friend’s house in Long Beach…as they drunkenly yelled down at us from their all mighty tower (balcony) to go home. Mind you, home is over an hour away. Confused? Yeah, me too. But brace yourself. For this is a New Years Eve tale like no other.
Let’s start with some character introductions shall we?
Daniel: The boyfriend
Sam: Our BFFFFL (she’s a girl)
Chad: Daniel and Sam’s best friend since forever. Frat boy.
Mac: Stoner. Chad’s friend.
Robert: Mellow dude. Everyone’s friend.
It all began on the 31st. Le Duhh. The plan as of earlier that week was to spend some well-deserved “house party” time at Chad’s with all of the characters above. I’m not going to lie, there were some relationship mishaps that definitely dampened and held up our night thanks to Daniel and me. Several up and down bipolar situations between 9pm and 10pm lead us to say we weren’t going but, by 10:30pm we were off on what would be a most ridiculous disaster.
By 11:25pm, we found ourselves in Long Beach outside Chad’s house, only to receive a text telling us to walk over to an elusive Alex’s Bar, where we would ring in the New Year. After a quick Apple Maps check, we realized there was no way in HELlongbeach we were going to walk a mile and a half in the freezing 50 degree temps (it’s SoCal after all) to get to this bar.
Upset about not getting our promised (and relaxing and no DD necessary) house party, we drove to Alex’s Bar, only to find the drunk assholes had taken a cab to Downtown Long Beach and now requested we meet them there. Where specifically? They couldn’t give us cross streets, a bar name, or an address for 20 minutes. It was now 11:40, for some reason we all had to pee, and for some greater reason, no gas station would let us use their bathroom. On the prowl for both a toilet and three drunk frat boys, I had the pleasure of spending my New Years with Sam and Daniel in the parking lot of a Best Western, whose bathroom was under construction.
After a friendly Jack in the Box employee let us into their already closed humble abode to use the facilities, we were back on the wild drunk-goose chase. Robert was able to coherently tell us to find them on 4th and Long Beach, but you already know what happened when we got there. They were gone, wandering downtown at 1am like it was Disneyland. Only four blocks away, we requested their royal presence at 4th and they unwillingly made the treck back.
Here’s where it get’s fun.
Sam: Ok so there are 6 of us, and only 5 seats. I can’t take everyone home because their are cops on every block and I’ll get a ticket (not to mention it’s dangerous) but we can call a cab for one of you or all of you.
Chad: No, let’s just fit four people in the back or three people in the front. Or we can shove Mac in the trunk. We don’t have money for a cab (where they found the money to spend on cab #1 or on the alcohol they purchased at every bar they stopped at on their way home, I couldn’t tell you)
There’s no reasoning with drunk assholes though because within minutes, they said they would just walk back to the house (3 miles) and we would meet them there. 2014 was not off to a fabulous start but we drove back to the house where we knew we would wait for upwards of 45 minutes. Bored, totally sober and a little pissed, we all cracked open a beer (we bought a 30 pack for beer pong because we thought it was a house party) and shared a bowl or two (you know what I’m talking about).
Soon finding ourselves hungry, we learned that Long Beach’s Domino’s Pizza’s have incredibly strict jurisdiction rules. The closest one to us (let’s call them Domino’s #1) wouldn’t deliver because we weren’t on their turf…but the Domino’s #2 we so desperately needed nourishment from was closed. In calling back Domino’s #1, they refused to deliver, fearing they could get sued by Domino’s #2 for such pizza betrayal.
It get’s better.
“Go Home!” we heard someone yell from the skies. It was Mac on the balcony of Chad’s house. Amidst drunken profanities, he made it clear we wouldn’t be let in and we best get our asses out of there. A little tipsy and incredibly pissed, we weren’t about to drive home and hoped they would cool off and change their minds.
Twenty minutes later “Ohhhh, they’re still here” reverberated from Mac’s drunken lips. Never leaving his tower of safety, he found more profanities in his vocabulary to yell down at us and then stumbled back inside.
Not wanting to drive home with an open case of beer, and also hoping it would serve as a valid peace offering, Sam and Daniel brought the 30 pack minus 3 to their doorstep. At some point, they came down and got the beer, but continued to leave us out in the cold.
A Facebook check told me that in their drunken state, they were under the impression they had witnessed a shooting on their way home…although I have yet to find a report of a Long Beach shooting on New Years. Fire works anyone?
By 3am we knew it was time to head home. Bladders bursting once more, we found a 24/7 gas station where we bought gas station sandwiches as our first meal of 2014. Home by 4am, we were fueled from our night of aimless driving and gas station Monster.
A New Years to never be forgotten.