Back From The Dead 2011

My New Year's Eve plans were local. Watch the Celtics-New Orleans game at Mullane's followed up by an early beer at Frank's then home to my Fort Greene Penthouse to watch the final sunset of 2011 before getting attire in my evening suit. Nothing says New Year's Eve better than a tux. I polished off a bottle of Cote du Rhone and bid farewell to AP and his wife. They were expecting neighbors to see in 2011.

"Frank's?" AP asked knowing my answer.

"Until 11:30. I'll join you for the countdown. "Is Dick Clark still around?"

"They'll have to flash-defrost him to make it to Times Square." AP will be 50 this coming this month. Most of our new year's countdowns were with the eternal teenager, but not this year. "He's in retirement."

"Damn." Nothing stays the same. It was 10:15. "I'll see you in an hour."

Frank's is a five-minute walk from South Oxford. The bar is a Fort Greene fixture dating back to 1972. The owner was sitting at the first table. I greeted him with warmth.

"Thanks for having me this year." One of the regulars had recently named me 'the White Shaft' after I entered the bar in a long black-green leather coat. I wasn't black, but there were sometimes at Frank's when I didn't feel white.

"Glad to have you."

I ordered a beer from Sandy and had a few more. My phone was silent. No one calling from Thailand, the Continent, or America. I was off the radar and commanded another beer. I tipped the bartender the change and drank the beer in the glow of another year sinking into the past. More than a half-century of last-minute preparation for the new year.

Larry and I toasted the Celtics and Lakers.

"Here's to another championship."

Both of us were predicting a rematch of 2009. My phone buzzed with a text message. Shannon was at his girlfriend's restaurant on DeKalb. I wrote that I'd see him after the countdown and bid good night to everyone at Franks'.

AP buzzed me into his house. We drank two bottles of champagne with his wife and two guests. My phone rang 10 minutes into 2011. My nephew was waiting at Oskars. Same rendezvous as Shannon. I tipped my hat to my landlord.

"See you in the afternoon."

"If not later." AP knew that I was hellbound for drink this evening.

Wine, whiskey, and song until 5am.

Yesterday was a blur in my bed. A burger at Mullane's for breakfast at 3pm and Chinese leftovers at home for dinner. No more booze. No drugs. Only water and it wasn't a cure for my ills. Sleep would help a little and I called Fenway's mother in Sriracha before crashing into my pillows.

"Mao?"

"Not mao." I had recovered from the staggering drunk. "Hang."

"Bad?"

"Bad enough. Love you and call you in the morning."

It was barely 9pm and I had had enough of 2010 to last a lifetime unless the clocks reverse their spin and I'll be ready to relive this New Year's Eve backwards. It's the only way to repair the holes in your soul.

Happy 2011