Epic Janurary

(I'm late, deal)

December 9 – Party Prompt: Party. What social gathering rocked your socks off in 2010? Describe the people, music, food, drink, clothes, shenanigans.

January 2010 is a month that will live in infamy, for in that month there were three nights of fun that dwarfed most of the rest of the year. First was my birthday celebration. I had reserved space at an East Village bar called The Musical Box and Autumn doubted my estimated head count of 25. "No way will 25 people show up," she said. Final count was 28. Victory was mine, as were lots of drinks. Alison made whoopie pies. We ate at Paquitos, which turned into one of the funniest meals I have attended in recent memory. I met the elusive Boston Mike. I played the worst game of pool of my life. I chugged a final, ill-advised beer. i paid a terrible price the next morning. But man, a good start to my 26th year.

Then there was pie party. It was billed as a housewarming, though we'd lived in our apartment since August. This was the mildest of the three events but still a solid effort. At least five pies were made and devoured. It was also the night of the last Conan, so 20 of us crammed in our living room to watch. We played Catchphrase. We danced. But it was really just a precursor to the event that is was truly the best night of 2010 so far, Dean Wilkie's birthday (see photo).

Alison and I started the night at another friend's birthday, Jessi White, which was also a great time. Ice skating and a piano bar. Both fantastic. Then we made the trek back downtown to The Stanton Social where the birthday boy drank for free. The event began normally: A few drinks in the heated garden. but things got real when we heard the downstairs lounge was open. We quickly took over the dimly-lit room and as often does with this group, things got real with a dance party. Not sure if it was the drinks, or a particularly good playlist, but this dance party surpassed all when it migrated out into a transition room where people were waiting in line for the bathroom. Suddenly they were part of the dance party (see photo and note, I only know two of those pictured). When other bar patrons descended the stairs to use the restroom they were greeted by absolute chaos of our own making. I'm not proud of some of the pictures taken that night—very few look good in the midst of pure joy dancing—but I am proud we were able to rope cynical New Yorkers into what has to be the greatest impromptu dance party that bar has ever seen.