New Year’s Eve started off with a bang as I went to the funeral of a 4 year old boy that died of cancer of the eye. After the funeral, I remained completely stressed with a new breed of headache I’ve never experienced before in my life. I spend the rest of the evening getting The Coup ready for others to enjoy for the new year’s extravaganza, as I prepare myself mentally to work the night away, dealing with drunk fucks and assholes.
The night goes as mentally prepared. I deal with people unwilling to pay money for a night of fun with live entertainment in an establishment that makes its living off so. I deal with those that drink more than their body weight in beer hours before the clock strikes midnight. I deal with blatant rudeness and shitty people that consist of what one might call “the whole package” in reference to pieces of shit.
My one moment of pure, peaceful solitude occurred as all 200+ people awaited downstairs for the new year’s countdown of celebration. I took in a deep breath of piss-filled air, looked around and saw no one, and toasted myself with Tylenol Extra Strength medicine.
As the party once again fills both upstairs and downstairs, I get back in the zone of work; however, I go to the bathroom for two more glorious minutes of alone time.
I was too greedy, and this was my mistake.
I come back to the front desk to find that my bag was stolen. Luckily, it was not my purse, again. This time it was my bag filled with my belongings such as: well, my bag… my fake fur coat with silk lining, my favorite high-heeled shoes, and my Dior handbag with my best makeup and jewelry. I had two Dollar Tree feathered masks laying on top of my bag before it was taken. My clue as to where my bag had gone came from the two Dollar Tree feathered masks making a trail out the front door.
My night had ended there. I cried, of course. One, because I’m a girl, and Two, because it’s a horrible feeling to know that some grubby lifeless fuckbag has violated your possessions and ran off with them in his/her grubby lifeless fuckbag hands. Not to mention that The Coup looked horrible. All these people in my place of business, just taking a shit all over everything, (and I still need to clean up). Two men, in which I personally witness vomiting all over our tables and chairs outside. Good thing there was rain.
Zach was actually the one that made me feel a little better last night. He told me about his guitar that was stolen from him at The Coup. It was special, and he told me about all the meaning and memories that went along with it. I felt worse for him. And then Andy told me how this was his best New Year’s Eve party ever. I felt good for him.
The following morning, my dear, dear friend Erica came over to my house and brought me some chips and dip, which consisted of black eyed peas. Apparently, black eyed peas are supposed to bring a person luck, and she felt I needed some. Bring on the peas, for I feel they worked somewhat. I should have eaten just a few more because when I went up and down Crossland Avenue this afternoon, I discovered about half of my possessions. Broken, nonetheless, but found. My high-heeled shoes lay strewn along the road roughly 20 feet apart. My Dior handbag found its home in some brush soaking wet with broken glass and whatnot inside. All my makeup had been run over by a few cars and was in tiny little pieces on the actual road. I picked up all the little pieces so I could give them the respect of a proper burial in my own trashcan in my warm little home.
The actual bag, jacket, and jewelry were not found. I suspect that my jewelry will either be pawned or worn by some trashy, worthless woman. I feel in my heart that my bag and jacket lay alone in two separate wooded places, wet and dirty. My only hopes are that some small creatures take refuge this winter in my bag and in my jacket.
What is it 2011? Is this any indication of the year to follow? Or is the universe testing my ability to cope and prepare myself mentally in more ways than dealing solely with rotten individuals? Either way, happy new year. May humbleness find us all.