Ahh, New Year’s Eve. A celebration of endings and new beginnings. The last party night of the year, which means it’s also the biggest party night of the year. And that’s exactly why I always get the urge to lock myself in my room and hide under my bed until January 1st arrives.

The anticipation and build-up for the evening mean it’s never as good as you expect it to be. And no matter how much planning you do and how much money you spend, New Year’s Eve always fails to be an extraordinary night. Just because it’s the last night of the calendar year, doesn’t mean it’s going to be any more fun than any of the others. Trust me.

Reason #1 I Hate New Year’s Eve: First of all, it’s essential that you plan ahead. If you don’t make your plans well in advance, you’re risking having nothing to do. Parties get booked up, your friends make other plans, and you’re stuck watching the ball drop with your parents. I don’t like planning ahead. What if I’m forced into deciding to attend a party and then something better comes along? What if, in November, I don’t know what I’m going to be in the mood to do in December?

Reason #2 I Hate New Year’s Eve: Then there’s the expense. If you want to go out, you’re going to have to spend money, and probably a lot of it. Take last year, for example. A group of my friends made plans to go to a bar. We dished out the $75 that would allow us access to an open bar, bought fancy dresses, and got all decked out for the night of our lives. When we arrived, the bar was absolutely disgusting, the food nasty, and the people incredibly sketchy. It turned out we were only allowed to drink well liquor (when we could get near the bar). It also turned out that we could have paid $10 at the door and been allowed to attend the same party and order our own drinks. As if I would drink $65 in Grey Goose. The bottom line is that bars can charge whatever they please on New Year’s Eve and people will pay it. People like me. Read More »

I know The Fleet has come and gone from the East coast, but now it has made it’s way to The City of Roses (Portland, OR- my city of residence) and when my friend informed me she had won tickets to this “non-denim” (yes, the tickets specified no denim) formal affair event, we had to go – it was our patriotic duty after all.

I should take a second here to clarify a few things before I really get into this story. I would like to start out by saying I fully support the troops, after all my brother is in the Navy, and when I told him I was heading out to the annual Meet the Fleet festivities his only response was a very brotherly “Don’t hook up with sailors.” Granted, I really had no intention of hooking up with these guys, I was more seeking some attractive company who would buy me drinks and could possibly turn into a pen-pal who sends me presents.

In order to maximize my odds with nabbing me a high ranking sailor I had my brother write me out a little guide on how to separate the men from the boys. With my criteria in place I was ready to meet and greet the ocean’s finest. Read More »