Young folks make New Year’s Eve party tiring

It seems I’ve finally gotten to the age that New Year’s Eve sounds a little more daunting than exciting.

Sure, I get to smash to death one of the weirdest years with a sledgehammer at midnight, and I get to wash the slate clean for 2017 with a new list of resolutions I’ll never achieve, much less get starting upon. (Maybe I should try something more within my reach, like “start smoking.”)

But I haven’t gotten old enough that I’m willing to go to sleep before the ball, peach or buzzard (depending upon where you are) drops at midnight on New Year’s Eve. It still should be a party, even if it’s a mild one.

I’m not interested in being around a bunch of humans, though, unless absolutely necessary. I’ve been in small, medium and very large groups of humans, and nearly each group has been highly overrated. So, that rules out joining the mobs of revelers in the streets of New York, Atlanta or Possum Holler.

We could hit a bar for New Year’s Eve, where, for a small cover fee, we can experience the same joys of overcrowding, pay more for beer and have the added benefit of smelling like cigarettes when we get home.

So, my wife and I decided we’d have a New Year’s Eve party at home. All of our similarly aged friends were off doing other wild things for New Year’s Eve — such as sleeping, watching “Hee Haw” reruns or playing bingo — so we wound up with a bit younger crowd than we anticipated. In fact, I suspect the average age in the house was about half my age.

(I can’t actually calculate the exact average because we covered averaging stuff in my sixth-grade math class after a really wild junior high New Year’s Eve party, and I was still too hungover from the Kool-Aid to pay attention. It must’ve been bad Kool-Aid because I didn’t pay attention in math for the next six years.)

Sure enough, partying with a younger crowd took its toll — mainly upon my sleep. One young fella in particular was the life of the party, and everything revolved around him. Some folks just feel like they have to be the center of attention, even in my house.

By 11:30 p.m., all I wanted to do was hear Mariah Vanilli sing, watch the ball drop, hear insightful comments from Kathy Griffin and Jenny McCarthy and then hit the sack.

But, no, Mr. Center of Attention was not interested in going to sleep and had the nerve to seize the most comfortable chair in the living room and didn’t even show appreciation for the talent it takes for stars like Mariah Vanilli to sing while holding the microphone to her quadricep.

After midnight, long after I had wiped down the Margaritaville machine and kissed it nite-nite, there he was still drinking … and still in my chair.

You know what follows drinking that late, of course — drama. Tears, hollering, talking complete jibberish. Fortunately, the drinking and drama finally took its toll and he passed out. Thankfully! Unfortunately, he passed out on my bed!

I tell you, that’s the last time I invite a 6-month-old to my wild New Year’s Eve party at home. I’ve gotten too old for this.

Connect with Chris Johnson at kudzukid.com.

This story was originally published January 3, 2017 at 8:40 PM with the headline "Young folks make New Year’s Eve party tiring."