trip update 5: New Year's Eve

“Are you sure you want to wear that?” G asked.

I stopped twirling in my black sequined tulle skirt (what can I say, I like the swishing sound) and said, “Why, what’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing! You look great. It’s just that this party is usually pretty casual, and I don’t think anyone else is dressing up.”

“Feh,” I said, pecking him on the cheek. “It cost me $15 at Old Navy. Big deal.”

When we went downstairs, everyone oohed and aahed and Padre took a couple of pictures. Then he lit the menorah and everyone joined in the prayer, and then Padre said, “Ready to go?”

People began gathering up their jackets, and I cast a worried glance at the still-lit menorah.

“Ready?” G said, taking my hand.

“Shouldn’t we blow the candles out?” I asked.

“NO!” everyone yelled in unison.

“Bad luck,” G said. “See, Hanukkah is all about…” (And here he launched into a lengthy explanation that I cannot remember, but it had something to do with God letting the Jews’ oil last for eight days. Or something like that.)

“That seems like one hell of a fire hazard to me, though. Is it bad luck if a gentile blows it out instead?”

“It’s probably worse luck. Let’s go before you bring a plague upon our house.”

Every year, Madre and Padre’s best friends hold a themed New Year’s Eve party, and nobody knows what it is until they get there. “Maybe it will be a Giants party,” G said hopefully. (The Giants were playing from 8PM-11PM and he and Padre were bummed about missing it.)

“Somehow I doubt it,” Padre said.

Apropos of nothing, D said, “Remember when I was little and I swallowed a crayon?”

“Yeah,” G said, tousling his hair. “It was purple and then you could draw with your butt.”

The kids burst into hysterical giggles, and D said, “Yeah, but then the pictures came out BROWN and purple.”

When we reached the party, I was the first one to reach the door, and I said, “Oh no. Oh my god.”

“What’s wrong?” G said, coming up behind me. He saw what the problem was, and he began laughing uncontrollably. “Hey, guys, guess what the theme is?”

Clowns.

CLOWNS.

Motherfucking CLOWNS!

Yes, the confirmed coulrophobe was going to a CLOWN party.

Fortunately, there were no actual clowns at the party, just a bunch of clown decorations everywhere. We played games, had what they referred to as “trashy carnival food” (hot dogs, chips, KFC, and some horrible rotgut punch) for dinner, and decorated t-shirts for a contest. Here’s my entry (as you can see, I’m no artist):





At 11:55, we turned on the TV and counted down the last few minutes of 2005. When the ball dropped, G kissed me, and I thought, Wow, I hope 2006 is half as good as 2005 was to me.