A New York New Years Eve

So, my sister was in town, and we all decided that we were still too tired from our Saturday night venture (to see The Sword in Williamsburg) to go all out, so we tried to hit two comedy nights in Manhattan. We got to the first venue--Beauty Bar--only to discover the comedy was cancelled because of New Years. (Which is kind of stupid: what a better way to ring in the new year than laughing??) So we hopped in a cab to hit the second. That too was closed. Completely discouraged and at a loss as to what to do, we wandered the deserted streets of Chelsea before ducking into a restaurant/bar that was, despite the festive decorations, weirdly empty. We each had a glass of wine, hiked over to Union Square before calling our friends D & J. They luckily knew about a party in the Flatiron so, after the vodka red bulls we'd all ordered, we again cabbed it over to this odd apartment at Astor & lafayette. Why was it weird? Well, the apartment itself was gorgeous: high ornate ceilings with real gold leaf detailing, marble fireplace and wide mantels on which were displayed oversized paintings. But it turns out that the guy who lived there actually didn't even pay rent: he was a squatter. For fifteen years now. And none of the other people in the building paid rent either. They were all squatters. I'd overheard two of the other guests saying that there's been somesort of court case a few years back but that the building's owner didn't show up so it was dismissed. Weird.

And yes, at midnight I kissed R.