What a start.
I spent the minute leading up to midnight in line waiting for barstaff to hand us our credit card back.
And when midnight struck, John Lennon's voice filled the club - so strange to hear this here. Party poppers went off, streamers flying everywhere. We hugged and drank up our martinis. When handbag house took over again, we danced, me in my gold heels, clutching on to random thoughts for the new year. It's going to be a good year, I thought. I can feel it in my tummy. Mr P played my tune (Bob Sinclar's Taj Mahal) - after I'd gone up to the consul, stood like an idiot, until he stuck out his hand to wish me happy new year. Only then, did I ask for my song. It's taken me a whole year to gather enough courage to do this. It was like the early days back in Singapore; just the girls, dancing the night away. There were no cabs and a very long cab line when we got out. We stood in line for 15 minutes while I tried calling for a cab, barefoot and cranky (I felt as if the skin on my soles was peeling off from the friction of manoeuvering around in 4 inch stilettos). We decided to walk home (gasp, yes, Miss E suggested this) since there was no hope of getting a cab in the next hour. It started to pour a few minutes into the walk, and while I successfully avoided broken glass and snails, I stepped into an ant nest. It was a comical sight - in my Paul and Joe best, drenched, and desperately swiping off ants on my feet. It was comforting to see that we weren't the only ones stranded on the streets at 5am. We passed groups of people waiting at bus stops, under bridges, along the road, for a cab. We made it home eventually, deliriously high from the laughing, frizzy-haired (just me), and happy that the dawn of 2006 had been a blast.
I hope, wherever you are, that you had a good one too. I've missed you.