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Tales of a Post-Grad Nothing

Thursday, January 06, 2005

This year, I spent New Years by the Eiffel Tower, something that both sounds and looks like it would be awesome. For the French, everyone gathers at the Eiffel Tower beginning around 11. There's no countdown, there's no French equivalent of Dick Clark (I would imagine his name to be Le Dick Clark), there's no snow. All at once, the Tower (capital 'T') explodes with light, champagne is uncorked, fireworks are set off dangerously close to pedestrians, babies laugh, unicorns prance, Jesus makes his descent to Earth.

All of this lasts anywhere from 5 to 7 minutes at which point Paris totally comes down from the master bedroom upstairs, shuts off all the lights, and everyone is sent home drunk to be dealt with by their parents. At the heart of it, New Years in Paris was just like New Years anywhere else except the stock photography in the background was cooler. I'm not sure what I was expecting, or even what I was desperately hoping for, but my suspicions that New Years everywhere is about as much fun as 16 year old sex in a car was confirmed. Hands down, the best part of the night was spent eating food at our friend Benevolent Steve's house, who seriously lived up to his name by spending the night chasing down Euro ne'er-do-wells and getting maced. Next year, my goal is to spend New Years with superheroes or rockstars, or maybe superhero rockstars like Jem and the Holograms. I am, after all, truly, truly, truly outrageous

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