New Year’s Eve on the outside

As far back as I can remember New Year’s Eve was always the night to turn into a regular party animal. It was the time of the year to dress up like a fool and go searching for the best party in town. In reality, more time was spent on the road driving from one lousy New Year’s Eve party to another, ending in utter exhaustion.
Midnight arrives ushered in by the big electronic ball tumbling down in Time Square and the whole freaking world breaking down in a song to bid the year good by or is it to hello, I forget which. If you are lucky there will be fireworks from a distance. And then we all suck face to wish each other a happy new year. Guys, who are normally loath to touch one another, shamelessly hug in public. It is a positively soggy moment and we go on partying till the sun rises in the horizon.
You finally go home looking like a wet rag, smelling of booze and stale cigarettes. If you have been too happy, it is time to “barf” buddy, or just pass out on the bed with shoes still on. It is a special day. It is a day for starting out fresh, flushing all your sins, going to confession, starting with a clean slate, from a tabula rasa…I shall exercise, eat right, read more, loose weight, drink less and quit smoking…resolutions to be keep.
Remember the Centennial-Eve party at the Sheratons Addis? It was the first time I got to New Year’s Eve bash at 7 PM and parked literally a mile away and took the bus, in a tuxedo no less. A good friend had one of those fifteen-hundred-Birr free tickets that float about as the big bash approaches. The thing about not paying the entrance fee is that you are free from trying to get your money’s worth and can actually enjoy yourself.
Food and drinks, Aster Awekele live on stage, men, women and hermaphrodites decked in their Sunday best, killer shoes, bare skin and mini-skirts milling about all night… it was my kind of party. At midnight spectacular fireworks to welcome the century, the ooohhs! and aaahhs!…to successive explosions of color. New year was there and it was gone.
The second time around it was more or less the same. Then it disappeared after the infamous 9-11, the Sheraton party, but this year it was back with a bang! The place looked like Disneyland complete with glittering tri-colored palm trees, the type that you plug in the wall, and dazzling throb lights from the hotel rooftop…and don’t forget the searchlights announcing the party to the heavens.
Empress Taitu Ave. has turned into a a huge parking lot all the way down to the Ambassador. As midnight approached the streets everywhere are jammed with people who flock from every corner of Addis Ababa to see the fire works up close. The area around Minilik’s main gate with its commanding view of the Sheraton and its surroundings is jammed with spectator traffic and pedestrian, mixed in the middle of the road. Angry horns blowing and police pushing the crowd back. Not my party.
But further down towards filweha the crowd was just closing in when I parked and got out, at the bottom of the hill not far from Zewditu Hospital. In minutes traffic stopped and driver and pedestrian mixed again when loud bursts of explosions filled the sky with multiple bright colors. Flowers rained on our heads, sparkling mushrooms descended from the heavens to almost tree-top level.
At first the crowd was not impressed much. But the launch pad finally shifted from the top of the Rina structure to ground level at filweha meda. Smaller muffled explosions first hurl small rockets that explode in the sky. The explosions rocked your bones from up close. Multiple explosions drew the loudest and longest cheers from the crowd as each thunderous burst rocked their feet, a split second after spiraling mushroom light in the sky.
In the end, no happy new year, no drinks or music, only a quite adoration of the fireworks and a long walk home.
A different, a completely different sensation than checking it out from wherever with a drink in one hand a cigar in the mouth, a woman at your side and a couple of sore feet. At the Sheraton a planted spy tells me some were so happy they were crying in full view of partygoers. She was not impressed with the put on pizzazz. Another spy danced till she dropped. The fireworks? What fireworks?
As soon as the 30 minute long firework display came to an end, it was time to search for a party, just like the old days. Heading south to the Golf Club for a little dance. Hug an old friend on the dance floor, a few drinks and good morning Addis Ababa. It is a brand new year, don’t you forget it.

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