There’s only one type of person who’s allowed to hate New Year’s...
…unless that’s you, put up and shut up, says Maja Anushka — who maintains that 31 December is the best night of the year (for everybody else)
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Your support makes all the difference.I get it. It’s been a very long year.
Remember the bonkers Willy Wonka experience in Glasgow? Those poor employees, milling about in a warehouse, half-heartedly dressed up as Oompa Loompas with that distant, sad look in their eyes? That all happened in February – this year. Haunting.
Then again, it was only one month into 2024 that the internet collectively trauma-dumped on Elmo so hard that the president had to post about it. So maybe we should have known things were off to a rocky start...
But the good news is: we made it through! And better yet, we can celebrate with New Year’s Eve – which, it goes without saying, is the best night of the year.
No? Just me?
I’ve become used to being the only one enthused about it. When I tell people that New Year’s is my favourite night of the year, I get strange looks. But I love it with my whole heart.
I love the anticipation – routinely checking the time as the hours whittle away and the countdown begins. The second it ticks over past midnight, I love the sense of relief – the inexplicable feeling of a page being turned. And above all else, I love that we all know, really, that nothing changes. But do we let that stop us from making a big song and dance? Of course not!
None of it means anything, and yet we continue to make plans, go to bars, throw parties, and hang up a fresh calendar the next day. We do the whole routine anyway, because we’re humans, and don’t we all just love an excuse to celebrate?
But people maintain their hatred for NYE, for some reason. When December rolls around and I start asking about people’s plans, I know the responses I’ll get.
“Oh no,” people usually say. “I hate New Year’s. I’ll be shutting myself in at home.” Or “I hate New Year’s. I have to go to this horrible dinner party.” Or “I hate New Year’s. It’s all a big fuss over nothing.” And the classic response: “I hate New Year’s. It’s always disappointing.”
I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but all of these are rubbish excuses for being grumpy. In my book, there is only one acceptable reason to hate New Year’s. It’s usually said after a long sigh, perhaps with a lowered head: “I’ll be working.” Oh, you heroes.
As a retired hospitality worker and a dedicated New Years Eve-er, I kneel at your feet. You, the people pulling pints in bars so loud you can feel your thoughts vibrating; the 18-hour-shifters; the bouncers chaperoning drunk baffoons out of bars. You, who allow idiots like me to ring in the year in style and with poor choices in alcohol. They should give you medals.
You are wholly allowed to hate on New Year’s – and I only hope that the masses are as kind and gracious to you as they should be.
To the rest of you: I’m going to hold your hand when I say that you just need to grow up a bit. Why all the resistance? Whether you like it or not, for the rest of your life, there will be “2024 you” and “2025 you” – and you will grow to distinguish them from each other.
Even though, no, the universe doesn’t shift when my friends and I scream “Happy New Year” at the end of an overly enthusiastic, tequila-fuelled countdown. And no, you will not suddenly beat your nicotine addiction or love spin classes just because the date is now 1 January. No, nothing magical happens when the pixels on my phone tick from 23:59 over to 00:00. But also, doesn’t it? A little bit? Isn’t there a sense of it in the air, no matter how unearned?
Even the most cynical must admit there’s a buzz. And it’s New Year’s Eve, for crying out loud. We only get one every 365 days. NYE is exactly as good as you allow it to be. Your massive expectations of the best night ever are holding you back from having the best night ever. The call is coming from inside the house.
Let it – whatever “it” may be – happen. Go to that party. Run into your ex at a pub. Have an awkward interaction with someone while you wait for the loo. Kiss your friends – and feel confused about it. At worst, you’ll have a great story to tell next New Year’s.
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