Happy Next Year

Ah, January second.  My favorite day in the calendar.  All the decorations start coming down.  The shops clear out and I can buy some “Airborne” without being offered a chia pet instead.  I don’t have to listen to “Santa Baby” again for 335 more days.  My fellow New Yorkers are subdued from hangovers and touchingly optimistic about their resolve to attend a gym regularly.  It’s the most wonderful time of the year.

I’m really just here to buy some Advil, but sure! A chia-bob ross! Why not?

Unfortunately, this year, the holiday season broke New York City.  First of all, everyone tried to go over the Brooklyn Bridge.  Then they all tried lining up at Katz’s.   Every year, clever bloggers tell you why you should never, never go to Times Square on New Year’s Eve.  The Post runs annual articles under titles about urine-soaked hell, and yet, there they were, roped in like cattle from 8 a.m. onward.

It’s time to share the love.  Why should New York City get all the tourists?  I plan to use every ounce of my political clout to get our Mayor to put the ball drop on hold for 2020.

How did that ever slip by the censors in 1954?

That will give other places a chance to get out in front.  Why should New York be the only city to experience the annual joy of closed public transit, irked officers of the peace, and international tourists donning designer cocktail dresses and adult diapers for a chance to stand immobilized by thousands of strangers for 18 hours under the pouring rain with no food, no drink, and no bathroom access?

Next year, get ready to watch the glitterati ditch Times Square in favor of….

Viva Las Vegas

East coast? Vegas? I’m confused!

Las Vegas has already obligingly built a fairly convincing replica of New York City (“New York New York”).  Kinda seems like the same place, if you put your fingers in your ears and close one eye.  Dump a bucket of rancid water on your head to create a plausible humidity level and add some earthy notes to the overall scent-scape, and you’re there!  But Vegas – baby!  It’s time to turn up the volume! You need to build an entire accurate replica — building by building — from Columbus Circle to Penn Station.  Don’t worry about east of Park Avenue or west of 8th– those are the invisible “tourist walls”.

We don’t get sunsets like this in Original New York, Original New York!

This new, expanded, “Midtown Manhattan, Midtown Manhattan” can host identical, parallel Christmas tree lightings and new year’s eve ball-drops.  You’ll add authenticity by shoving hundreds of people into aging metal boxes called “subway cars”, shaking them for 15 minutes, and arbitrarily screeching to a halt and turning off the lights.  I’ll get you in touch with some real live New York Subway conductors who can teach your cast members how to say “Move AWAY FROM THE DOORS!!!”,  “Delays due to police action at 34th Street”, and “PULL IN YOUR DAMN BACKPACK or WE’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE”.  We’ll throw in the real Katz’s Deli lock stock, and barrel and airlift it to you for free.

Silly in Philly

Hi Philly. I love ya, but about that image problem….

Philadelphia, you have a long and storied past.  At one point, you were bigger and badder than little old New York City.  Win back that trophy!  I know you’re so much more than cheese steak, but you’ve got a PR problem.  People only know you through Rocky – him, and the cheese steaks.  The good news is that you just need to get the word out internationally, and they’ll be swarming to watch the Liberty Bell drop at midnight in Penn Square.  Here’s how.  We’ll come up with a story line for Netflix involving 4 horsey-faced but attractive

Um, you really need to tackle this image problem, Philly.  It’s not going to get better on its own.

young people having a lot of sex in your home town.  Indoors, outdoors, threesomes, whatever!  It will all sound very radical, but really they’re just looking for true love and happily ever after.  In the meantime, (when they’re not having sex) they’ll need to go shopping at expensive stores and drinking in picturesque locales.  You scout locations, I’ll get a celebrity chef to create a photogenic signature cocktail, and the title just wrote itself.  We can figure out character names and where they fall on the gender scale later.  Once it’s a hit, watch out!

Sleeping In Seattle

How about creating a simulated volcanic eruption for your big party?

Come on, people of Seattle!  You’ve got the Space Needle!  You’ve got a big giant Ferris wheel just like the one in London!  You’ve got a frickin’ VOLCANO!  Let’s stop with the chill down-low attitude and WAKE UP!  You have the potential to be THE party destination when the clock turns 12:01, 2020.  Seattle is, on the inside, one of the weirdest places on earth.  Riding on a scary tectonic plate boundary and gazing into the longest stretch of ocean on the planet (look at a map – it goes from Seattle to Japan), birthplace of Jimi Hendrix….you haven’t even begun to tap into the heady mix of high tech, frontier boom town, and

Let’s move this a little closer to the Sound, and we’ve really got something!

caffeine-fueled seasonal depression that’s all your own.  I’m pretty sure you could put Burning Man to shame if you tried.  Please – I’m begging you – throw one really kickass party every year on Dec 31st and you can go back to your quiet, gentle, Portlandia way of life the other 364 days of the year.

Mardi Gras, Encore

See? Told you they’d come if you drop something shiny!

New Orleans, we already know you can throw a great party.  Who doesn’t have the original Mardi Gras on their bucket list?  I’ve meet native New Orleans folks who are unpleasantly surprised that the rest of the country doesn’t also close down from Ash Wednesday through Maundy Thursday to sleep it off.  Well, we don’t – though it’s an idea I’ll take up with the Mayor next time we brunch.  So what’s holding you back for going global on New Year’s Eve?  I can’t think of anyone who can do it better.  You really don’t need to go very far out of your way – just repeat everything you already did for Mardi Gras, and drop something shiny off the roof of the Saint Louis Cathedral.  Ryan Seacrest would be all over that!

Hey Times Square — I’m not the only one in diapers!

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