Day 362 - NYE Story

NYE Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

Sally sat on the kitchen counter; Joe leaned back against the refrigerator.

“What I need,” Sally slurred, “is a good swift drink.”

“I think you’ve had plenty to drunk.”

“’Drunk?’”

“Yes. You’ve had plenty. I’ve had plenty. We’ve both had plenty.”

“To drink. I agree. But that wasn’t the drink I meant.”

Joe stared at her, confused. He was plenty drunk as were the other people at the party, and he was pretty sure that none of them would need another drink for a very long time.

Joe and Sally were old friends. They had met during graduate school at SDSU. They were part of a large group of friends and at the time Sally was dating a friend of a friend that Joe knew. They had met casually at parties and then had some classes together and soon they were hanging out without the others around. They were good friends. They had years of support and helping each other out. Even as the numbers in their group dwindled, they stayed close.

“I need something sweet and cheap. I need a good drink drink...”

A drink of course didn’t always mean a drink. Joe and Sally had many slang terms and a whole system worked out for what they could mean. A drink could be anything from a date to a boyfriend to a perfect mate, but a drink drink that was short and sweet would only mean one thing – someone that was good for one thing and usually for one night only.

Joe looked at her and realized what she meant. She smiled. It was New Year’s after all – why not celebrate? Joe understood the urge. He didn’t usually go after that in the same way, but he could certainly understand the urge to have a good time.

They had begun drinking at noon because they could. It didn’t matter that it was noon – it was midnight somewhere else on the planet. Somewhere, someone was celebrating the new year. Those people were probably in Russia or the Middle East, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that halfway around the world, people needed an excuse to start drinking early. And having twelve chances to celebrate the new year seemed like a good enough reason. It was New Year’s Eve after all, people didn’t need a very good excuse, they just needed an excuse.

At noon they raised their first glass and cheered with the crowd. They drank their beer and then they drank their water. It was a long way until midnight and they had agreed to pace themselves and help the other make it until midnight, their midnight. They had a long way to go.

Joe checked his watch and suggested they walk to the next bar. There were at least nine other locations they were going to try to get to before heading to a friend’s house for the actual hour of celebration.

They had found a German bar for three and an Irish Pub to drink at when four o’clock rolled around. There was a restaurant serving frozen drinks which would be fitting to represent Greenland at five o’clock. Then they were going to take a break and down lots and lots of water. It would be six and they would be hovering somewhere out in the Atlantic Ocean. Water seemed like the wise and proper choice.

It was somewhere around eight that they realized they hadn’t stuck to their schedule at all and were just drinking too much. They couldn’t remember if they had stopped to eat and Joe wasn’t sure what bar they were at or what part of town they were in. Sally laughed, but realized that neither did she.

The hours blurred and somehow they ended up together at their friend’s house, waiting for the final midnight countdown. Sally and Joe were both full-blown drunk by then and the hours of the night were just mixing into one big mess.

“Grape juice is not out there.”

Long ago the ultimate drink was determined to be grape juice. Grape juice was the perfect – a balance of great taste, it was sweet and healthy and it seemed like it was a little more exciting and exotic than the regular run-of-the-mill morning cup of orange juice.

“What if it is?”

“What if it isn’t?”

“Ooh, deep. So we’re all doomed to—“

“— drink Snapple…”

Snapple was the ultimate of average and boring. It was dependably consistent, you could find it anywhere, but it was never anyone’s first choice.

“And nobody wants to drink Snapple,” Sally continued.

“Nobody.”

“Who needs it?”

“Nobody!”

“Not me. That’s who.”

“Not me either,” Joe agreed.

“Nobody,” she affirmed.

“Nobody,” Joe concurred.

Joe and Sally had identified Snapple when they were still in college together. They would talk about breakups and hookups and first dates and compare notes. There were plenty of potentially average and ordinary people out there, but no one that was truly special or worth fighting for. They decided that the plain and average would be forever known as Snapple. That was what they wanted to avoid. They should aspire to greatness, not compromise. They had of course had many many bottles of Snapple in their day, but that shouldn’t ever be the goal.

They had developed many other less than satisfactory alternatives. Joe was a soda drinker – he went after the sweet and sugary romance, but in the end it always turned out bad for him. Sally waffled back and forth, she either settled for Snapple or she dove into spiked punch. Neither ever got satisfactory results.

“You’re drunk,” Joe pointed out.

“So are you.”

“You need to drink some water.”

“Yeah but who wants to drink water.”

“No, I mean you should probably drink some water. Actual water.”

“Oh.”

Joe got her a glass of water. He handed her the glass but remained close to her, standing there between her legs as she sat on the counter. Neither of them registered how close they were to each other.

Sally took a gulp from the glass and paused to consider the water.

Water was healthy and perfect, and never did anybody wrong. But it never got things right either. There was no taste, no excitement. Water was just a nice time, a first date, a casual conversation. But nobody ever fell in love with water. Water was too boring, too safe.

“Nobody ever thinks about water,” Sally continued their drinking game. “It’s too boring to notice.”

“Water is your friend.”

“Exactly. That’s why no one thinks about it. It’s just there. You never think to date your friend.” She paused momentarily, thinking. “Why are so many drinks so boring? Why am I always looking for something new, something different?”

“Why am I always chasing soda?”

“At least yours tastes good after.”

“Not always.”

“You have good memories. Be glad for that.”

“I don’t know. Why don’t we change drinks?”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You ever think grape juice isn’t grape juice. Maybe it’s something else and looks and tastes different and then it becomes grape juice.”

“Things don’t change.”

“Maybe. You could give it a try.”

“And drink water?”

“Maybe.”

“If only it wasn’t safe.”

“Or tasteless.”

She leaned in and kissed him.

“That wasn’t tasteless,” she proclaimed.

Joe nodded in agreement.

“Is it midnight yet? It’s got to be midnight somewhere, right?”

Joe didn’t know. He looked at his watch, but it was a blur.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“We need a drink. You need a drink? I need a drink. I need to go find a drink.”

Sally leaped down from the counter and began to walk out of the kitchen, seemingly unaware of everything that had just been happening. Then she turned around.

“Hey, come find me at midnight. Everybody deserves a kiss at midnight, right? Come find me at midnight.”

Then she did walk away, as if everything was casual and nonchalant and unimportant. Joe watched her walk away. He was good at that. He was also good at getting hung up on the wrong ones. Still, he was going to keep a focused eye on the time and take whatever the night was willing to give him.