The ‘past’ does not truly exist. Neither does the ‘future’. They are only memories and expectations. The only real thing is the fleeting present.

What was once “Friday night” is now a blur of random memories. Here are some of them.

• The plan is to meet up downtown around 7. I get there at 6 so I could go look at some art. Turns out all the galleries are closed except for one.
• I wander around a bit trying to figure out how to kill an entire hour. I make my way down to Indigo for a few beers.
• I’m at Indigo sitting at the bar. Barback tells me that they may have moved “First Friday” to the month’s second Friday, but wasn’t sure. Bartender chimes in and tells me that tonight is the first time in 16 years they are open on Jan1 because of First Friday. Everyone seems confused, and pissed to have to work on New Years.
• Big white lady comes to the bar right next to me and leans in to ask the bartender for a drink suggestions for her friend. She wants something sweet and creamy or light.
• I suggest the Colorado Bulldog to big white lady. She’s never heard of the drink before but likes the suggestion as her friend is originally from Colorado. I never did find out what her friend thought.
• An asshole Euro guy (or maybe Australian I’m not sure) comes up and asks if they use “fresh cream in their chi chi’s”. He is unhappy with the drinks they got and says the cream tasted like it was curdling (does coconut cream even curdle?).
• Bartender is pissed at Euro guy’s attitude (she and I exchanged the “is this guy for real?” look as he complained). Bartender offers to re-make the drink, or suggests margaritas. Euro guy says it’s for his kids, orders fruit punch as replacement, and returns to his table.
• Bartender is even more pissed now at whatever waiter took the order because the original ticket wasn’t for virgin drinks.
• I leave Indigo shortly after, thank the bartender and barback, and say “Hey. Your year will get better.”
• I make my way to Bar 35.
• I get a text from my friend. They are running late. My 1 hour to kill becomes 3.
• Sitting at the bar of Bar35, I order a PBR. My first bottlecap is the Ace of Hearts. “A good way to start off the night” says the bartender.
• A couple sitting next to me is trying new beers. They get red seal ale per the bartender’s suggestion. I just drank that for the first time a few days prior. I ask them if they like it. They do.
• Two white girls come to order drinks. A few minutes of conversation later I’m asking them “How do you not know what PBR is?” Turns out they were born and raised in Hawaii (Kailua). I totally forgot there are white people born on this island, too.
• White girls (actually I found out one was hapa) and I are trying to decide who’s older. They say “We’re pretty old” and I look at them and reply “I’m probably older”. Turns out I was right (yay me!) They invite me to meet their friends who are all in the back but I’m still waiting for mine so I tell them maybe later.
• My friends come. I’ve had about six or seven drinks by then.
• The rest is a little more blurry.
• At some point, white girls from a few lines up leave the club with their friends (who are more white girls). One of them sees me on the way out and gives a friendly wave. I wave back but don’t talk to them again. They are the first people I met in 2010.
• There’s some dancing, and a lot of bad music.
• Cool Haole girl comes up dancing to one of the girls in our group.
• Uncool Haole girl starts saying stupid shit. A fight nearly happens.
• Very uncool Haole girl and her boyfriend are kicked out by security.
• More bad music. Less dancing on my part.
• More bad music, now combined with bad DJ’ing. We leave.
• We all cram in and take a cab over to Bar7. Cab driver is a pervy old dude who uses too much cologne.
• At Bar7 I am standing around surrounded by little kids and feeling really old.
• At Bar7 I run out of steam and bail out on my friends early (to my credit, it should be noted again that I DID start my night about three hours earlier than everyone else did). But sorry friends!
• I walk about two blocks before finding a cab to hail on Keamoku Street.
• Cab driver is looking like a total terrorist, with the cheap long sleeved shirt and all. Nice guy though. He tells me he’s originally from Bangladesh.
• Cab driver begins rants about how he’s got no customers all night and a family to support, which is why he has to work on the night of New Years. “First Friday?! Is bullshit this month!” he says. “Downtown! What a joke!” I tell him I agree. (Cab driver giving off a little more terrorist vibe now).
• As taxi enters freeway, driver puts on a cassette of Islamic Prayer.
• Cab driver asks me if I know what this is. “The Holy Quaran” he says and goes on about how it’s a beautiful history. Not sure if he’s trying to freak me out. (terrorist vibe goes up a notch)

• I tell cab driver that my parents are originally from Malaysia and I’m vaguely familiar with Muslim prayer ritual. “Five times a day, right?” I ask.
• Cab driver is now significantly nicer to me. Terrorist vibe goes back down and now we’re just two dudes talking about life. I realize that cab driver may have been inadvertently been giving me the terrorist vibe in response to me inadvertently giving him the gelled-hair drunk douchebag vibe earlier on. The rest of the trip is pleasant.
• Fare is $15.60. I give cab driver a 20 and tell him to keep the change.
• It is 3am and my night is now over. Before hitting the sack, I have enough energy to change clothes and brush my teeth, which is a lot better than some nights.