You wanna hear a New Year’s Eve story? OK, but then it’s time to put 2005 away and go to bed.

Let’s see…..which one? Soooooo many… How about the most bat shit insane NYE I ever worked? ( I keep copious notes/diaries ) My last night as a club bartender.

OK, here we go….I must first start by saying that at this stage in my bartending career, I did not get behind the bar without getting my hooka on, with a regular like ****** (yes, that ******) what would you do? It kept me from tenderizing someone with the Galliano bottle.

A club bartender is to the service industry what a prison guard is to law enforcement. Evil, mean, nasty shits that can turn on you at any moment. But without us, drunkie, it is utter fucking chaos and despair, so what can you do? The money is soooo worth it, but don’t push it. We can make or break your night.

On this night of nights, I get to the bar at five to set up, with over two dozen people already waiting in line behind the velvet rope. Seriously? Seriously. This is not Ticketmaster, people, first does not mean “in.” And if you have to get to a club four hours before it opens……well, um, yeah…..

So the first thing I’m assaulted with is an over-eager wine rep trying to sell me, I shit you not, last minute Champagne out of the back of his car. Somebody should have been a little less condescending this Christmas, no? Now that his head’s on the chopping block, he’s nice to me, and I just can’t care. It takes 2 flying oranges before he makes for an exit. What part of a giant citrus fruit squishing into your noggin says, “I’m still interested?” And you wonder where springs my love of salesmen.

Our new DJ then shows up sporting this sensitive ponytail-man flannel look, lots of vintage rock in his crates, and I can’t believe my eyes. This is Chicago, bitch. The height of industrial rock and gothic/electro/trance, and I’ve got fucking Cameron Crowe spinning tonight? I think not. I fire him before he can speak and call a drug addict friend who, though I can’t trust for shit, has a wicked collection of 12 inchers and lives around the corner.

Wait. I don’t…..hear….something. I don’t hear something humming, do you? I don’t hear the coolers. The coolers aren’t running. Awesome. Do you have any idea how much an electrician costs on New Year’s Eve? Somewhere north of a hooker, a really good hooker.

My head bouncer just informs me that two of my employees are “sick” and can’t work tonight, but he brought cousins. Great. Untrained, pumped up Greek boys on the door is like Pit Bulls at the petting zoo on Easter.

My bartenders two and three are already prepping and 3 sheets farther to the wind than even I. Stopping to look at them for a few more seconds, I notice the unmistakable hints of….. Oh great, somewhere between last weekend and this weekend–they’ve decided to screw. I’ll have to break them up tonight. I need them working the crowd, not each other. For fuck’s sake. ….And we don’t even open for three and a half more hours.

Before the night is over:

• The police will drop by (for the first time) on a noise complaint (on NEW YEARS EVE), and I will be elected Most Likely To Be Sober Enough to Talk To Them. Indeed, by a hanging chad. I don’t know whether to apologize or offer a bribe. I try both. Success.
• A total of three, all mysteriously friendless, underage girls will be discovered passed out for whom I will blame “the cousins” later. The office will look like Sweet Valley High threw up, literally. (I most certainly could be sued for this.)
• Some not so hot girl will claim over and over again, throughout the entire night and in between many jello shots and for days later, that she was sexually assaulted in the bathroom, by another girl–a hot girl–and won’t I do something about it. Is this even a problem? Am I just being insensitive? Can I be sued for this?
  ((two months later, they’re living together. Mmmm, hmmm.))
• One bouncer will come a hair short of bashing a guy’s head in. Cops will be on the premises for the 3rd time.
• I will break my finger and reset it all in a matter of 35 seconds. I can still tell the weather with a flip of the bird.
• The owner will import a gaggle of hoochie mommas and clog my bar for half the night. (Owner = excessive amounts of extra service and drain on my pour costs and precious little sanity for no increase in tips)
• My D.J. will very nearly O.D. during his last set. (whoa, I could been sued for that)
• Not one, but three B-list stars will puke on the bar. (surely that’s not the record?)
• The two other girls my bartender is “seeing” will get into a major, mondo gato, Puerto Rican style girlfight. ( OK, that’s so bad it’s good. )
• Some guy will manage to reach over the bar and try choking me, only to be discouraged by my hand full of rings to his temple. He will then dog me for weeks seeking my phone number.
• A record 16 individuals will be disrespected by having their asses tossed out of the bar. Mainly separate incidents, mostly by me.
• I can’t even tell you number 9, it gives me the willies to remember. Not a pretty site. Brain hurting. Must stop thinking….
• Five couples will be “caught in the act” in the unisex bathroom. That’s not what unisex means, people!
• I am completely sobered up by 12:45. (Somebody should be sued for this.)
• The night can’t even be saved by some pretty model type who will materialize out of the keg cooler after close, fall and bust out her two front caps, and one full tooth as the final, 4:25 a.m. cherry on the cake of my evening. But she does threaten to sue me. Hey! Finally! I knew it was coming. Go ahead thweetie, make my day.

And this, kids, was my last night as a club bartender. So now maybe you understand, when I say that I come at wine from a different place. By different place I mean universe.

Happy New Year, my little miscreants! And remember it’s best to eat lots of fried foods, take a steamy shower, and drink your V8 in the morning. But skip the coffee.

What will I drink tonight? Camille Saves NV 1er Cru Carte Blanche It is the recipient of my love, love, lovliest Champagne of the year. Pure hazelnut, lemon cream, yeasty goodness with a big, sigh inducing finish. This Champagne is hands down the best value in the country, from one of the good guys too. And the name….is just so apropos, ne c’est pas?