Two Thousand Zero Zero Party Over Oops Out Of Time

When I say I’m going to party like it’s 1999 I mean business.

Afterall, on Dec. 31, 1999, I attended one of the greatest parties in the history of the world. It was held just off the UCONN campus at Walden Apartments. It was absolutely crazy. About 30 people showed up. Booze flowed like water and other things were consumed like candy.

Because of the pending millenium and because most in the apartment hadn’t seen each other in a while the night was filled with an energy that was impossible to ignore.

I still remember everyone counting down from 10 at midnight and then BAM! Happy New Year. On cue Prince’s 1999 played over the stereo and everyone sang along and danced. It was fun. It was awesome.

Truth be told my life was one big party from the time I turned 17 to right up around 30. House parties first, then when my friends and I hit the legal drinking age a whole new world opened up. A world of bars and party bands and the Hartford nightlife created a whole new mayhem that I wasn’t even aware existed.

I’ve had some hangovers in my lifetime that felt like true death. Many morning were spent hugging the toilet as I prayed to god in between heaving. Promising that I would never drink again if he’d make the pain stop, only to break that vow the following weekend, or the next day…or sometimes even hours later.

Now the parties and even the drinking are so few and far between that that part of my life seems less like a part of my life and more like some crazy dream I had once, if that makes any sense.

Some friends at work a having a party Saturday night. Our intern is going back to college in NH and he’s throwing himself a goodbye party. The evening will consist of a little house party, followed by some bar hopping. Most of the sports guys are in the early to mid-twenties. I really don’t think I could hang but I remember when I was that age I was just like them. Partying at someone’s house till about 10 then going to a bar till 2, then back to the house till we all passed out on couches and floors.

I seriously don’t think I could do it. I’m sure by the time it was bar time I’d be ready to hit the hay, or even worse, starting to catch a buzz and then worrying about things I never worried about in my 20s. Like being hung over in the morning or being able to find my way home later on. Back in the day, the NEXT day just didn’t matter.

I was supposed to go out tonight.  I had an offer to meet up with some friends in Danbury. I had an offer to catch a few beers with an old work colleague. I had an offer to go over a friend’s house in Litchfield. But I did nothing….

I got stuck in traffic on the way home. Instead of arriving home at 7, I got home around 8. I was moody and sweaty. No A/C in the car. By the time I woofed down some leftover pizza and walked Andy it was 9 o’clock. After taking a semi-cold shower the last thing I wanted to do was leave the house. Instead I put on some comfy clothes, plopped down in front of the tube and haven’t moved.

Not gonna lie. I feel a bit pathetic. Granted I’m relaxed but I don’t think I should waste opportunities like I seem to do so much. Last week I went to a picnic Saturday during the day and went to a friend’s house that night. I had a few beers but by no means did I rage.

I can actually count all the times I’ve RAGED since turning 30 on one hand. Road Race Weekend last year. A few parties at Jamie’s. And that’s pretty much it. Is that sad or is that just part of life?

I dunno. But it’d be a whole lot cooler if I did.

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