You know all those people jamming Times Square in midtown Manhattan? They're all Las Vegas locals, making the New Year's Eve scene.
Just kidding.
We can't speak for everyone, of course, but in our experience, locals do on New Year's Eve what locals do the rest of the year. Many work on New Year's Eve. Many casino management and marketing employees who aren't working have to attend the VIP parties at their joints that night. And, presumably, some young, wild, and free visitors drag local friends to the Strip and downtown for the main festivities. We did in fact overhear a local bartender we know, who's Vegas born and bred and well into his '50s, announcing that for the first time ever, he's venturing into the thick of it this year, just for the heck of it. But it's our guess that 99 out of 100 Las Vegans stay as far away from the Strip madness as they possibly can.
After all, they tend to avoid the Strip the other 364 days of the year, in favor of frequenting neighborhood casinos and other hospitality establishments. If they go out at all, they wind up at Cannery East or West, Arizona Charlie's Boulder or Decatur, Sunset Station or Aliante Station, Fiesta Rancho or Henderson, South Point or Suncoast, the Orleans or Santa Fe. Or, just like in any other city, their friendly local bar.
As for the Huntington Press locals, starting at 1 p.m., we party at the office. The HP New Year's Eve Day Party, featuring sushi and Champagne, has been held annually for nearly 20 years. Staff, writers, contractors and vendors, family and friends, stray casino PR people, the odd gambler, and invited subscribers 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 hangs out, especially since two years ago when we took over our new building, which has a fine view of the center Strip from the second-floor balcony (attached to A.C.'s office). Some stay all night, keeping an eye on the Rio employee parking lot, the all-nude strip club down the street, and Mojo, the eight-year-old company-mascot iguana (who managed to surprise us this year by turning out to be a female -- a pregnant female, no less, but that's another story. Never a dull moment around here...)
The rest of us have our own traditions for the evening.
