The Nonsense of New Year's Eve

Alexander McKinley did NOT do holidays. Not Christmas, not thanksgiving, not Valentine’s day. It’s all a bit of frivolous nonsense, thank you very much. 

You see, Alexander had a VERY structured routine, and he didn’t like anyone disturbing it, not one bit. He rose at exactly half past 5 every morning, with or without an alarm. Alexander didn’t need alarms to stay on schedule, they were for late people. He ate breakfast at 604, and lunch at 1104. At exactly half past 3 every day, rain or shine, Alexander left his small apartment and walked exactly 1358 steps in exactly 13 minutes and 58 seconds to a pub he frequented every day, and it was always open, as it should be. Alexander sat on the same stool in the same corner of the bar and at exactly 404, he received his usual order of plain potatoes, plain vegetables, and roast beef (with no gravy of course, gravy was for messy people). Here he stayed, drinking until the wee hours of the morning. The alcohol was probably what was getting him by on so little sleep.  

Holidays messed with Alexander’s routine in too many ways. First there were the people in the street, too many of them in fact. And they walked slow, and never moved out of Alexander’s way. They were always stopping suddenly to look at frivolous things in frivolous shop windows or gossiping loudly and taking up the sidewalk. Around holidays he had a choice to make. Did he derail his straight path to evade the masses and mess up his step count? Or did he maintain his course and mess up his time? Neither were pleasing options.

Christmas was one of the worst. In addition to the people, there was irritating music with irritating beats and especially irritating lyrics. And people couldn’t hear him shout to get out of the way. The entire month of December until the 25^th was a write off for Alexander’s time and steps.

But there were 2 holidays that garnered Alexander’s disgust more than the others; St. Patrick’s Day, and New Year’s Eve. In addition to the too many people on the streets, there was too much irritating party music that sounded like a cat’s foot getting repeatedly run over (his regular bartender, Joe, told him this was called “mumble rap”, dreadful stuff). It was worse than the Christmas music.

But the thing that really irritated Alexander McKinley, to the core of his being, was the amount of people these holidays brought to his pub. Messy, loud people that didn’t understand routines, and didn’t understand that the seat in the corner of the bar was Alexander’s. There were new people at the bar, to make up for the new people in the pub. These people didn’t know his choice of beer, his choice of meal, and they never got it to him for exactly 404, which threw his whole evening off.

The concept of holidays doesn’t make any sense. The frivolosity of it all made Alexander sick. Christmas and Valentine’s day were just excuses for people to be materialistic and capitalist. Now Alexander was a good Catholic, and he attended mass every Sunday as a good Catholic should. So Christmas made Alexander sick on a different level, but at least it was based in being a good Catholic. And Valentine’s meant smoochy couples and pink, all over the place. Even Alexander’s potatoes ended up pink on Valentine’s Day, which would never do. A gross colour, pink is. But it was based on love, which Alexander had known before his partner died.

St. Patrick’s Day completely made a mockery of St. Patrick himself, who was the patron saint of Ireland, and would have never condone such raucous. His potatoes ended up green on St. Patrick’s Day.

But New Year’s Eve. Ugh. Alexander shivered at the thought. A celebration of the planet rotating around the sun, as it does all the time? Psh, this sort of basic physics was not worth celebrating. The pub was always packed even with hours and hours to go until midnight. His favourite beer often sold out, and his potatoes had edible glitter in them which would stick to his teeth for days after (he’d made that mistake once- never again). The pub TVs always had pointless festivities. Alexander entered the crowded pub with 1377 steps in 14 minutes and 31 seconds, greatly disgruntled. He made his way past already sweating bodies to his back corner and was even more disgruntled to find a man in his spot. Not just any man, however, but the same man who consistently sat in his spot every New Year’s Eve. And this one Alexander could not incite to move. He’d usually been able to intimidate most people out of his spot but not this guy. He’d tried for years.

Growling under his breath about people with no respect he made his way to the crowded bar, hoping to at least get Joe tonight to soothe his sorrows with a cold beer. Eventually a young woman behind the bar made her way to him. He had to shout his order at her, and Alexander did not care for shouting.

“Sorry hunny,” she replied looking not very sorry at all, “that guy took the last Coors we got- it’s a busy one already we got a truck comin’ later” but Alexander stopped listening when he saw who her finger was pointed at. The seat stealer. Of course it was him. He gritted his teeth. Another young woman sitting on a stool noticed him there and offered her seat to him. He sat reluctantly. It wasn’t his spot but a spot to ride out the oncoming storm nonetheless.

When Alexander’s meal arrived, sans beer, his potatoes had glitter and his meat had gravy. No this would not due at all. Alexander attempted to grab the attention of one of the barkeeps but the sea of people and gesturing hands rendered him invisible. Bodies pushed into him from both sides. If he’d had his corner spot this wouldn’t happen. He sunk down into the stool. His evening was ruined again by nonsense holidays.

A Coors appeared in front of Alexander. He looked up and Joe, framed by the bar lights like an angel, smiled at him. He set another plate down in front of him. Glitter-free potatoes and plain meat. And for the first time since Alexander McKinley left his house he smiled.

“Saved some for yeh, in me own special cooler. Knew yeh was comin’” Joe winked at him.

So long as he had beer flowing Alexander thought he could survive the night. He endured the bodies and focused on his beers.

Time passes when you’re having fun, alcoholic fun, and Alexander was pleasantly surprised to see the New Year’s Eve program wrapping up. People pressed around him to see the TVs and watch the ball drop. Alexander did his own countdown, a countdown to when the drunk celebrants would flood out of the pub and into the streets to celebrate, including the seat stealer.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4. Alexander braced his ears. 3 2 1. HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!! The pub erupted with shouts and screams and the crowd flooded, as he predicted, out into the street. Few remained. He reached over the bar for the remote and turned the TV back to the news. He took his Coors back to his corner, refreshingly empty. He settled in, relieved to have survived another holiday. But Valentine’s, another nonsense holiday, is soon, he shuddered. Too soon.