I learned something about myself on New Year’s Eve.  I have an amazing ability to have a good time.

Apparently, this is not as common as I would have thought.

We went to a concert - a band we’ve been to before - at the Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake, IA - a place made famous as the site where The Music Died.

While others sat in the back of the room, baby sitting their “things” for fear of being robbed - I flirted my ass off with men and women alike in an effort to get me and my four groupie buddies a section closer to the stage.  While others rolled their eyes, I leapt on stage, twice, and sang and danced with the band.  While some people threw elbows to preserve their sacred front and center spots - or retreated to the back in disgust - I “danced wide” when I could, and politely informed would be encroachers that while I was small, I was NOT moving - but they were welcome to wedge themselves behind me.

I made friends on the smoke deck, in the bathroom line, and on the pit floor.

At 2 o’clock in the morning I found myself amidst a circle of good friends, laughing, hoarse, exhausted, sweaty, and standing in my stockings in a puddle of beer.  If that’s any indication of the year to come, I say “bring it on”.

And… I manged to squeeze six hours worth of partying into a short post.  I did have to leave out the hilarity of “throat punching”, a sixteen year-old nursing a crush, and a run in with my least favorite person in the entire world…

But YOU all asked for brevity.

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