I don’t understand why New Year’s Eve is such a big deal. I get drunk and tell myself lies all the time. Who needs a special day for that?
And yet I thoroughly enjoyed myself Saturday night at Union Station. It was a really nice event. Couple of thoughts:
In all my time in LA, I’d never been to Union Station, the downtown train station, and it was not what I expected. It’s a gorgeously-designed, mission-revival style California landmark, whose floors withstood a fair amount of champagne and vomit for one night.
Newly-discovered phobia: dudes on stilts.
No good deed goes unpunished: a day and half later, my ears were still ringing from standing next to this speaker while I waited for the people I was with to use the bathroom.
