The Reality of New Years Eve

New Years Eve is the biggest social event on the calendar - because it's the closing chapter of the year, the night we say "thank you and God bless, it's been a wonderful year" or "thank fuck that's over, time for the next one". But actually going out on NYE is the bigger issue. It's a completely different entity. Though it's the same deal every year - pre-drinks at a friend's place before hitting the bars and/or clubs, seeing everyone you specifically didn't want to see, stumbling home and probably hurling upon arrival, waking up feeling like the end slice to a loaf of bread - somehow we're always unprepared, or disappointed like Jennifer Lawrence.

First of all, the people. Everyone and their mums go out for New Years. The city centre swells with the pressure of actual people making an actual effort to leave the comfort of their homes on a drizzly and cold evening. The excessively perfumed in close proximity to the nauseatingly stinky, the people who wait all year for this vs. people who get hammered at least three times a week. Let's be honest, NYE is a mess. Beneath the excitement and sexual tension there's a nervousness because nobody has a fucking clue what's going on or what's going to happen. Who will be the lucky lad/lady that I smooch when the clock strikes midnight? Probably no one, AGAIN. But it's New Years! It's hyped up like it is because it's our main opportunity to act out all the dumb ideas that we've tried so desperately to forget about all year. It's prime time for rambling to acquaintances about how the past year was for you, and how you're going to make 'next year my year'. Liven up proceedings and take a shot for every cliche you hear. 

So then we have the actual bar and clubs, and the 'themed' nights they organise. Usually named after a random adjective they've picked from the dictionary, these nights range from classy to trashy, from mega dance tunes to classic rock. No matter how crass and embarrassing they are, every single bar and club will be rammed. Without a doubt. The hot spots will be over full capacity, and so the rest of us have to queue for 20 minutes to get in the places we would never dream of entering any other time, and pay a fiver to places that are normally free entry. And because everywhere is so busy, we feel the need to make the most of finally being served at the bar and buy in bulk; shots galore, double doses of double vodka and mixer, pitchers, the lot. And this often ends in tragedy, because human beings don't have six hands and can't stomach mass quantities of alcohol in short succession. The Leadmill is hosting a Great Gatsby themed do. I'm interested to see how that pans out; the credibility of an event like that really depends on the party-goers playing the part, and if I know the people of Sheffield like I think I do, 50 per cent of people will go all-out flapper and the remaining 50 per cent will expect costume accessories upon arrival. 

Finally there's the raging hangovers the following day. It's a national holiday so nowhere is open - not your favourite coffee shop that could inject you with some necessary energy, not the local greasy spoon that could settle your queasiness. If you're an alcohol drinker, New Years Day is miserable. See you in 2016.

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