New York City Is The Worst Place In The World To Spend New Years Eve

New York City. The city that never sleeps. The big apple and all that BS. Go to NYC for New Years Eve they said. Number one place in the world to ring in the new year. Watch the ball drop and share a new years kiss with somebody in time square while getting your face on American tv to be broadcasted across the world.

What a crock of shit.

New York City is the worst plce on earth to spend New Years Eve. The absolute worst. It’s hell on earth, if hell froze over into one desolate, cold tundra. Absolute death.

How long are we going to keep the lie going? How long is this gonna continue for? Where we keep lying to ourselves and talking about how nice it is? Don’t lie. You hated it. You hated every, single, waking minute. Do I really wanna pay $12 for fucking chestnuts while my balls are falling off from frostbite? Being stuck outside, thinking you’re going to get to Time Square. That’s never happening. There’s a million other people who had the same idea as you. You think you’re special? You’re not even getting close to Time Square. You just spent half the day trying to get to Time Square and you find out you can’t even get within an eight block radius of it with prior tickets. You’re stuck. You need to pee. You try entering a hotel and find out even going inside is off limits to anyone not a guest there. Shit. You spent 10 minutes wading 30 feet through a crowd of puffy-coated, red faced European tourists who are dying of frostbite just like you. They also need to pee. No one will let the tens of thousands of puffy pee-needing tourists in. They know they can’t.

You wade through crowds trying to find shelter. You’re cold and tired and now survival is setting in. It’s -17 degrees celsius out and feels like -20 celsius with the wind chill. Every arctic gust of wind gets trapped in between the buildings and pierces the faces of all the freezing Europeans. There haven’t been this many Europeans freezing to death away from home since Stalingrad. It’s not funny.

You try a bar, but it’s a private party. They don’t let you in. Neither does the lounge. There are door men everywhere just for people like you. They know what to expect. Keep the tourists out. Let them die in the street.

You turn the corner, losing feeling in your face now, freezing with packs of other survivalists. The street is barricaded off with a dozen police officers dressed like master chief from halo. They won’t let you through. They won’t let anyone through. They crowd becomes desperate as hundreds of thousands freeze to death slowly. NYPD ushers you and the other cattle through barricades to an uncertain fate. NYPD watch towers watch closely overhead with floodlights shining down on you. Keep moving. Don’t stop. Twenty minutes go by and the crowd starts to thin as stragglers slowly drop dead from cold. It’s now -20 celsius. It feels like -50.

You see a taxi that isn’t filled with drunk, half naked socialites leaving the confined elite compounds of the many hotels and lounges around you for the “others,” you know, the ones with the access to the bathrooms. You’re ready to piss your pants and use the urine to stay warm enough to survive.

The taxi driver can take you away, maybe to chelsea or the meat packing district where your friend says he found a bar that is letting outsiders in. You take your chances and go. It’s die there in the streets of midtown or head for the unknown. You choose for the unknown. You enter the cab. There is no heat.

After a six minute drive you arrive to meet your friend, and pay the driver is $85. You get out and go to the bar, stepping over frozen european corpses. A chinese family is eating their fallen grandmother’s corpse and using the flesh for warmth.

You get to the door and the doorman says there is room, but the cover charge is only $240. Fuck New York City. You pay the cover charge and go inside. There is warmth. You have survived.

Heads turn in the dimly lit basement den towards the newcomer in the venue. The female creatures that make up NY on this cold night briefly scan your clothing and determine you to be under the 7 figure minimum required for their attention. They look back at their drinks and go about their business. You don’t care. Tonight your mission is to survive.

You sit at the bar and order vodka on the rocks. $45. Why are you here? Glancing at  your newsfeed you see your friend Chad in Bali, Indonesia drinking coconut milk out of a coconut for $1 in his t-shirt, with two beautiful girls in bikinis sitting by his side. happy new year he says. Fuck you Chad.

What is wrong with people, you ask yourself? Why do they continue to degrade themselves  to this hellish icy wasteland on New Years Eve? You can’t let the Chads of the world know how bad it was. The death. The agony. The pain. You post a selfie on fb too. “Best New Years Ever In NYC.” The world must never know.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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January 1, 2017 at 05:18PM

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