Starting at 1 p.m., all "us guys" party at the office. The Huntington Press New Year's Eve Day Party, featuring sushi and champagne, has been held annually for more than 15 years. Staff, writers, contractors and vendors, family and friends, stray casino PR people, and the odd gambler get together and ring in the new year. The festivities break up around 5, when most of the revelers go their separate ways, though a hardcore handful tend to hang out, especially since last year when we took over our new building, which has a fine view of the center Strip from the second-floor balcony. Some stay all night, keeping an eye on the Rio employee parking lot, the all-nude strip club down the street, and Mojo, the company-mascot iguana.
The rest of us have our own traditions for the evening.
Publisher Anthony Curtis, for one, usually gets inspired by the New Year's Eve room-availability survey we do for the December Las Vegas Advisor and books a night or two at the casino with the best deal. That way he can drink Heineken to his heart’s content, then all he has to do is stumble and weave into an elevator and up to a hotel room, where he often falls asleep on the floor in his clothes.
Web-content director Jessica Roe, for another, likes to party with Anthony Curtis.
Marketing director Bethany Coffey spent more than a dozen years attending the Stardust's New Year's Eve VIP party. With the demise of the Stardust, she's looking forward to celebrating away from Strip with someone special, though she still plans to don her evening gown and tiara.
Senior editor Deke Castleman often winds up doing something like watching the fireworks with Jean and Brad Scott, especially when his kids and their grandchildren (ages 15, 14, 13, and 12, respectively), are in attendance. Last year, though, he wimped out, grabbed some pho at the Vietnamese restaurant at Chinatown, went to the movies at 7:30, was happily fast asleep by 11 p.m., and woke up the next morning asking, "So? Did New Year's Eve happen?" This year he'll probably do the same. He hears the new Charlotte's Web is pretty good.
Tanya, research assistant, likes to act like a visitor on New Year's Eve, so she braves the Las Vegas Strip. It's one thing to watch it on TV, she tells us, but it's another thing to stand in the middle of Tropicana Avenue with MGM Grand, New York-New York, Excalibur, the Tropicana, and 100,000 people all around you. For those of you who plan to join her there, she strongly recommends holding onto whoever you're with; it's easy to get separated from your date or your group in the crowd. (And allow us to add that you might want to leave your wallets and purses in your hotel room, stashing your ID and cash down your pants or somewhere equally inaccessible.)
Sarah, Tanya's partner-in-crime, once went to the Strip for New Year's, but describes it as the worst mistake of her life. These days she plays games at home and occasionally drinks one or two alcoholic beverages.
Laurie, the production manager, usually goes to bed around 10:30 on New Year's Eve, but this year, she tells us with a wink, she plans to book a night at the Golden Gate, attend the big party on Fremont Street, and then, around 2 a.m., go to her room, open her window, and invite everyone up.
Becki, office manager, likes to get loose at the office party. If she "just says no" to the "pineapple stuff" (an annual HP tradition of canned pineapple soaked in vodka for several months) here, she can usually make it to midnight. She tries to find a view of the valley to watch the fireworks from a safe distance -- she avoids the Strip and downtown at all costs because of the crowds -- then hits the hay.
Gail, the queen of data input, stays home with her tortoise.
Dale, Web developer, usually goes home after the LVA party, sits in his La-Z-Boy, waits for 10 pm, and goes to bed. This year, however, he might catch the whole city's fireworks from a secret vantage point.
