“All is quiet on New Year’s Day. A world in white gets underway.” ~U2
When I was working at the pizza buffet we would place bets on when the first customer would come in on New Year’s Day. Closest to the time got a free pie. I always bet the over, so if the latest time was noon, I would say 12:01. More often than not I was right too. You’d think others would have realized it at least one of the three New Year’s Days I worked there.
I always bet the over because I knew what everyone should know. While New Year’s Eve is full of all the pomp and circumstance, all the parties and excitement, all the balloons and revelry, even the giant ball descending from above, it leaves nothing for its counterpart on the other side of midnight. Well, it leaves exhausted people who just want to sleep as much as they possibly can.
That’s why New Year’s morning is always dead. Not many cars on the road. Not many people out and about. Not much at all. Which of course is in direct conflict with the idea of New Year’s, that everything is now vibrant with life, that the flipping of the calendar somehow makes it so. Instead, as the sun rises on a new year, all is quiet. And I love it. I love when things don’t match what they’re supposed to be, because it means there’s a chance the year will bring some positive surprises too.
So what am I doing up? Shhh. I’m not really.