…is on the subway…  screw the overcrowded and overpriced clubs, bars and restaurants.  every poser is out there, elbowing up to the bar, forcing himself/ herself to have fun.  and there is really no fun out there.  fun in NYC is a good thursday night off the beaten path, not in new year’s eve.  unless you spend the night roaming around in the subway– that’s where the fun is..

of course if you have a week stomach or a weaker constitution this is not for you.  however, if you can stomach it, the new year’s eve drama of the subways is next to none.  the drunks, from puking frat boys to the homeless the said frat boys are feeding booze to and encouraging to dance and sing; from the drunk girls with tits hanging out and heels in hand, craving attention from their bonked out dates to the mexican busboys mesmerized by the said tits and daydreaming after a 14 hour shift; from the ranting hipsters whining about how commercialized new year’s eve is, clad in their ironic tuxedos, accentuated with their grizzly adams beards and amelie wannabe performance artist girlfriends who have no talent whatsoever to back their aspirations up save their overinflated egos (or their overinflated lack of self-worth, which, at the end of the day, has the same boisterous effect), to drag queens subwaying it out to the next episode, it is the real party…

new year’s resolution 2011– spend the next new year’s eve on the subway and subway alone…

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