Somebody said "Have some soup." I thought that sounded like a good idea, so I did. Somebody said, "Toast in the New Year, because how you receive the New Year, is how it will be." I thought that sounded like a good idea too, so I did. Nobody said, "careful how you toast the New Year, Rob. You might want to remember at least part of it." So I didn't think about that idea, and well, I don't remember what I did.
Ok, that's an over exaggeration. I do remember. I'm just not sure from this side if it was a good idea. I try to forget the bad ideas. Maybe I need more alcohol to do that. No, no, I don't think that's a good idea either.
Here, I'll start at the beginning, with the good ideas. I've been trying to shake this stinkin' cold since Santa dripped it in my stocking. So far, it's been gnawing at me like 5 year old after a downed piñata beast; I can't get rid of it. I've tried store bought soup: that didn't work. Last night I loaded the big guns: I resigned to make my own chicken noodle soup. Good idea! I even got kind of excited about it. I copied down all the ingredients I didn't have (like a whole chicken), made my list, checked it twice, and climbed in the car.
All the while, I'm remembering something somebody else said, "I hope you're well enough to toast the New Year."
Me too, I thought. Then something else happened: Phlegmy brain receptors introduced synapses that had no business talking to each other. You know how almost every New Year's eve you meet somebody, and you've regretted meeting them within a week? Then you spend the next 12 months trying to shake them like a bad cough?
Because how we receive the New Year, is how it will be…
That's what happened in my brain. Watch as I break into a dramatized reenactment: Thought Process A (TPA) will be played by Zooey Deschanel. Thought Process B (TPB) will be played by Colin Ferrell. Got that in your mind? Good. Here goes:
TPA sitting at a bar nursing her velvet crush, talking to TPC (unpaid extra who just wanted screen time): I know! Since this is our first New Years Alone, lets buy a new bottle of champagne!
TPB, grabbing TPC by neck and throwing him over the bar: Is this seat taken? (not waiting for answer, he slides in really close) May I make a suggestion? (not waiting for an answer,) let me buy you a drink and we'll talk about this.
TPA looking like doe a waiting for a tractor trailer: Okay!
TPB (or tractor trailer): I gotta say, buying a new bottle of champagne, that’s a great idea. (Finishes drink, orders another for both of them. TPA is trying to keep up.) What if I made it better?
TPA: How?
TPB: You drink a new bottle in a new glass for the new year, but first, remember the bottle you got when you were married?
TPA: The one the hotel gave us?
TPB: Exactly! Drink it! Drink it in one of the complimentary glasses the hotel gave you! The one still sitting on your shelf!
TPA: That sounds like a great idea!
Light fades, the couple continues plotting, nuzzling closer and closer…
See? I didn't stand a chance. Even my favorite cashier gave me a 2 handed wave. I thought she was really excited about wishing me a happy New Year, but in retrospect it was two hands waving "DON'T GO DOWN THE SPOOKY PATH--WHERE 15 PEOPLE HAVE BEEN MURDERED IN THE PAST 4 SCENES--IN THE RAIN WITHOUT A FLASHLIGHT!" I didn't see it. Thought Process B was just too charming…
So I made my soup. That was great. My nose opened up, and said "Thank you!" Then I opened the old Orleans champagne circa 1999. I should have been a little leery. The cork was plastic. It was also sticky: it had leaked a little over time. After 15 minutes of trying, I put the bottle down, and rested. It was like a childproof cap, but there were no secret press points. Resolved, and refreshed, I went back at it. This time it popped. Ok, it didn't "pop" it sort of fell off. Like a hairy clog passing from a pipe.
Mmm…tasty….
Still, it was a process, and I had to move on. I toasted the past: the memories, the people, the plans that were. I said goodbye, and I drank. The champagne was sweet but hollow and flat. I'll let you work your own marriage metaphor here. I'm just the guy drinking the Kool-Aid.
11:58 I pour the remainder out, open my new bottle, and grab a new glass. I hear Dick Clark croak out the last 5 seconds from my office as I quickly pour. "Happy New Year!" I toast the future, the unknown, and 2008. "Whatever lies ahead, here's to you!" I tip it back and fill it again. It tastes of good fruit, and bubbles with promise...
So I woke up this morning. My cold is gone. I think the all-out chicken and champagne assault sent it scrambling for safer terrain. My head hates Thought Process B, but I don't know. It was kinda cathartic. I feel good about 08. Now excuse me, I'm gonna go have some more soup. I gotta get my strength up for whatever Thought Process B has roped me into.
0 comments:
Post a Comment