Fun & Famous

HELP: WHAT TO DO WITH O&N?

I am a deadline junkie. Somehow I always manage to procrastinate things until the very last moment, turning it into ‘A Thing’. New Year's Eve Celebrating has now become such a Thing.

I’m quite cuckoo when it comes to the whole New Year’s Eve thing. I don’t know, it just doesn’t appeal to me. Maybe it’s also because I was severely traumatized in a past life by the song ‘Happy New Year’ by ABBA. A heavy uncomfortable, sad, ‘feeling lost and feeling blue’ feeling overwhelms me the moment I hear it blaring through the speakers. As a child, I always had to cry. Screaming, I would cling to my mother’s leg as if I was going to die when the new year started. The countdown from 10 to 1 would mean that the whole world would be destroyed in some sort of The Day After Tomorrow-like way. With cows flying through the air and bowls of oliebollen. Didn’t everyone know that?

I’m telling you: cuckoo.

Also, I’d rather skip ringing in the new year with butterflies, astronauts, and nitrates that my cats almost waste their 9 lives on if I can. But that’s of course ‘totally weird’, because a somewhat normal person celebrates New Year’s Eve. And also has wild plans for New Year’s Eve if possible. With games and Linda de Mol and apple beignets. Those last ones are really the shit. O&N is the big party of disappointments where everyone seems to be having fun except you – but no, we’re not talking about that. Because then you’re I-Hate-Smurf.

I live right next to the Dom in Utrecht and you should know that Utrecht during New Year’s is one big, filthy creep. Grande parties where you stand in line for hours, pay the main prize, and then find out that it’s actually quite a crappy party. Where you have to squeeze yourself between dozens of stinking lazy people for a glass of bad champagne. Another thing: arguments – also inextricably linked to O&N, because too much alcohol and especially crowds. The plans to celebrate O&N abroad this year quickly came to the table. Not too far, just somewhere it’s cozy. London it would be. Together with my love, bestie, and her love. Great plan. We had actually had it on the agenda for quite a while, but due to my long winter escape trip to Curaçao and her winter escape to South Africa, those tickets just weren’t booked. And now we’re too late and everything is too full, too expensive, and too meh.

And then suddenly panic set in. WHERE THE HELL are we going? Is the fourpack still valid? Are we even going anywhere? What are we doing about food? What am I wearing? What I wear depends on where I’m going. And then there was my dearest Renske, who wrote the post 9x why I’m sooo over New Year’s mandatory reading for me, because in it she explains precisely that staying home with a miniclub is totally the new thing. And then there was a plan. We stayed in Utrecht. In Bilthoven to be precise, in the grande house of my bestie’s parents (with sauna) who are not home. Suddenly we were talking about renting a jacuzzi (yes, that’s possible, for a day, brilliant. They bring the thing and pick it up again.). There were grand plans to play sushi chef ourselves. What new Christmas sushi we would come up with this time. A slumber party. And suddenly there was peace in the head. I think this is going to be a very cozy little New Year’s party. And if someone suggests ABBA, I’ll just dive into the sauna. The options suddenly!