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January 9, 2004
Celebrating 'Amateur' night
Certainly the corny-looking accessories would make anyone out celebrating New Year's Eve on the town look like an "amateur," one of those new faces looking a little awkward out at the bars, as opposed to a "professional" member of the bar crowd. I was almost tempted not to celebrate the event. Many people I met talked about not going out at all that night, probably out of fear the drunks and law enforcement officials would both be out in force; they would stay home perhaps because of the crowds, or maybe just to be non-conformist. The option of staying home was less attractive to me, a bachelor, who had never experienced a Pahrump New Year's Eve before. I'm proud to state I woke up New Years Day without the usual hangover. I always thought that was a lousy way to begin a new year, with a headache, growling stomach and possibly a case of the shakes. Maybe it was the sight of our Sheriff Tony DeMeo, a teetotaler, bellying up to the open bar to order a coke at the Pahrump Nugget New Year's Eve VIP party at the same time I was. It tended to dampen my enthusiasm for a free drink, I thought about ordering maybe a virgin Bloody Mary instead. Gamblers packed almost every slot machine at the larger Pahrump casinos, hoping New Year's Eve would bring good luck. or to wait around for the big prize giveaways. New Year's Eve was a treat in that Pahrump didn't have its usual lack of live entertainment, even small taverns lined up musicians. Most nightclubs were showing televised scenes of the partying in Las Vegas. The quotes were about as memorable as the ones on the show "Wild On," aired on The E! Network: "Yeah! Woo! Party!" It was no doubt good publicity for Las Vegas. I spent New Year's Eve on Fremont Street on Dec. 31, 2002, an hour after midnight the crowds were gone, the mall looked like it did any other night, except for the trash everywhere. When the magic hour of midnight drew near Wednesday night, I angled for a number of free hugs and kisses, figuring it would be the only opportunity of the year. I threw some caution to the wind after watching a report on the news earlier that night from a doctor warning about spreading the flu and cold sores that way. What is this world coming to anyway? I thought about the resolutions I'd make for 2004, but didn't give them much chance of surviving, judging from previous years. I spent a few previous yearend celebrations in the small Mexican fishing town of San Felipe, 130 miles south of El Centro, Calif. It was a good place to warm up, relax around the sea and party. Mexico is a renowned party spot. On one trip I noticed a man driving an old-fashioned Volkswagen bug around town with two huge loudspeakers on the top, rattling off some announcement in rapid Spanish. I did hear two words I recognized: "tequila gratis." Most tourists on New Year's Eve packed The Miramar, a San Felipe bar founded back in 1948. But just before midnight, many revelers wandered over to The Beachcomber, where they served up two free shots of flavored tequila at midnight to patrons outside on the deck overlooking the Sea of Cortez. Unfortunately, the tequila gratis, along with the margaritas I drank earlier, added up to a nasty combination. I staggered home to my hotel and woke up New Year's Day thinking about comic W.C. Field's Temperance Lecture, which included a dissertation on, "The art of arising the morning after." Fields, arguably the country's most famous drunkard, said when he woke up New Year's Day he felt like a manhole cover was resting on his head. "Imagine my surprise when I reached up and found there was a manhole cover resting on my head," Fields said. He also discovered a full-grown goat in bed beside him. But Fields cautioned against any drastic New Year's resolutions, made on the spur of the moment, like sending one's self to monasteries in Tibet, Cucamonga, or Lompoc. While nursing that New Year's Day hangover in San Felipe I thought about how my former newspaper editor used to joke about all the chapters of Alcoholics Anonymous listed in the Pahrump Valley View. Well, at least it meant enough people in Pahrump were doing something about a drinking problem, either that or we really have a lot of sots in Pahrump. While much of American nightlife requires liquor as a base, there are some alternatives. While visiting a friend on South Padre Island, Texas, we watched a musician perform at a coffee house while getting strung out on caffeine. I asked the musician why he didn't crack the usual jokes between songs like he did at the bars. "It wouldn't work," he said, "Everyone here is sober and wouldn't laugh." I didn't get up early enough New Year's Day to see if I could catch a glimpse of the cheerleaders from Pahrump Valley Cheer and Dance Academy perform at halftime in the Capital One Citrus Bowl in Orlando. But at least this time I didn't have to worry about someone playing a cruel joke, and tooting the horn, or rattling the noisemakers in my ear while I nursed a nasty hangover. I also didn't wake up with a manhole cover on my head or a goat sleeping beside me. Write to Mark Waite at mwaite@pvtimes.com. |
