NYE in D.C. - A Photo Essay (Part 2 - The Freaks Come Out at Night)

the evening was in full swing. most of the party-goers had arrived, and if their behavior was any indication, i'd say most of them had drunk themselves into oblivion before setting foot downstairs. c and i wandered into the comedy room because i needed to sit for a while, and seating was extremely limited. we watched a couple of sets; the first comic we saw was quite funny (and i'm totally stealing two of his bits), but the second one just wasn't funny. we left the room and took the cheesy "official" photo - complete with bad cruise ship staircase background. we also took one with (a cardboard cutout of) obama, but unfortunately it didn't come out well. sad... ah, well. then we went back into the main ballroom, snagged another drink, and decided to people watch. we both love people-watching, and trust me when i say that this was one the best opportunities to do so, possibly ever.

typical non-creative heavy drinkers
the official website - as well as dc 101, the radio station that sponsored it - claimed that the event drew a "mid-to-late-twenties to mid-thirties" crowd. however, i think they lied. there were an awful lot of college kids and newly 21-year-olds there, and while that is fine and all, it just drastically changes the atmosphere; hence, all the drunken fools who couldn't walk straight even though it was only 10 pm. fun to watch, not as fun to interact with. ah, well. there were some seriously interesting people to watch, so it wasn't a total loss. because drunk college students? yeah, they do all sorts of ridiculous, embarrasing, and stupid things. like drink so much that you puke all over the floor in the middle of the hallway. (luckily i didn't witness this - unfortunately, c got that honor.) or being so oblitterated that you (a guy) try to use the women's restroom, can't understand why you're being yelled at to leave, and then fall over and can't get up so that a host of police officers and security have to go in and drag your ass out. (at least he was very cooperative and amiable. and he was hot, which was unfortunate, because the drunken stupidity totally cancelled it out.) or getting your long gown caught on the escalator and having several security and maintenance workers trying to free you without ruining your dress or making you naked. (hi, common sense: if you have a full-length skirt, you have to lift it up while on an escalator. not hard and plus they had people reminding girls of that on all floors.) there were lots of girls who clearly had not attempted moving, sitting, or even breathing in their dress before purchasing and wearing in public. either boobs were popping out while dancing, asses were hanging out, or things simply did not fit well. just... eeks. did no one teach these girls to twist, move, jump, and dance around in a dress before purchasing? because there were also the girls that clearly weren't comfortable - oh, they looked amazing, but they spent the evening standing stoically, carful not to wrinkle, bend, or take deep breaths, because they couldn't. i promise, ladies, it's possible to look awesome AND be comfortable. you should try it next time.

midnight balloon drop - we weren't here

meanwhile, it was coming up to midnight. c and i made the executive decision to stay outside the main ballroom instead of rushing in to be squished next a couple thousand drunken strangers just to watch a bunch of balloons drop. like i said, new year's is just not that big a deal for me, and besides, we were sitting down in a prime-people-watching spot. plus c's killer black and gold stillettos were starting to, well, kill her. it should be mentioned at this point that no matter how much pain c was in, she did not take her shoes off. i mean, we've all been guilty of it at one time or another, but you just don't walk barefoot around a hotel when there are open bars and people puking. you just don't take that risk. by midnight, i'd estimate that about a third of all the girls attending had taken off their shoes and were now lurching about with them in one hand and a drink in the other. there was a plethora of snagged tights and pantyhose, and these girls just didn't care anymore. some took them off and tossed them in the garbage, some continued to wear the tattered garments; one girl (and c witnessed this) had her shoes off, stepped in the puke from the previously-mentioned yakker, then - instead of immediately taking them off and scrubbing the first layer of skin from her feet - she simply ripped the bottom of the hose and rolled them up so that she had dipped-in-puke flesh-colored leggings. EW.

last thing in this installment, courtesy of c: the last-chance hook-up bathroom trolling. i swear i'm not making this up. aparently, this is the thing to do if you are a guy who, by the end of the night, has not found a girl drunk enough to sleep with you:

step one: hang out outside the women's restroom.
step two: evaluate each emerging female based on drunkeness.

step three: when you find one sufficiently intoxicated (stumbling is a good indicator) approach her casually, making it look as though you just happen to be passing by. if she's appropriated schnockered, i'm sure she won't remember seeing you on her way in.

step four: proceed to hit on her, making sure to lean on her so you can remain upright.

step five: if she is willing, lead her back to your hotel room upstairs. (and let's hope you have a hotel room, because you should really not be driving)

step six: if she is unwilling, walk away from her, mutter some choice expletives, and resume with step one.

seriously. c saw it happening while i was still rocking out with cowboy mouth, and once she pointed it out, i saw it for myself. yikes.

hopefully, most people stayed at the hotel...