New Years sucks. Not the actual night, but the weeks leading up to it. It's such a pain in the ass to find something that everyone wants to do and then to pull it all together... it's even harder once you make plans (for example, to party in Brighton with, say, Mike.D) and then to have the cornerstone of the plan (er, Mike.D) decide to fly out to, let's say, Hollywood with his fancy ass actor friends, leaving us homeless and with shattered New Years plans.

Actually, I'm just kidding. True, Mike.D bailed on us last minute leaving us to come up with another Master Plan(tm), but we picked up the pieces pretty quick thanks to an invite out from an all-star lineup of younger Medway girls. (Come'on... we were seniors, they were juniors - get your mind out of the gutter).

Okay, so the invite was a bit shady... Tickets to some club in Boston. $45 each. Nothing free included. Furthermore, the place is called "La Boom" (shhh - I'm still embarrassed to tell people I was there) and the website alludes to crappy ass techno DJs. Sweet. In any case, in lieu of better New Years plans, we recruit the usual First Night crew to go in on tickets... me, Rob, Mike Ferrari, Katie, Scott, Sara and Derek.

Fast forward to the day before New Years. We're all hanging out in NH after two days skiing, when one by one, people start to bail on the plan. Katie had some family stuff going on, Scott followed Katie, Sara and Derek decided to drive back to PA, Ferrari just flaked out. So, here we are - Rob and I, that is - with a handful of New Year's tickets and no one to go with... except for the all-star lineup of Medway girls. Despite the fact that everyone dropped out on us, we're thinking we may be in for an okay night.

New Years Eve. Rob and I drive all the way back from NH, check into a hotel in the North End (backup plan #1), drive to Brighton to get Mike.d's keys (he was kind enough to leave us his apt, aka backup plan #2), then drive all the way back to Medway, shower up and drive over to Andrea's apt in Newton (read: longest day ever).

We show up at AJ's, greeted at the door by Ms. Katie Schafer, all dolled up in a velvet catsuit (meow!) fresh off the plane from Iowa/Ohio/Idaho (one of those midwestern states). After a strong pre-bar showing, we head in town...


Our lady friends for the evening... meet Katie, Litsa and Andrea. Cab cost us $40 from Newton (not including $20 bribe to take five people).

Note: You may remember Katie from such NYC adventures as Medway Girls in NYC and Memorial Day 2001. As for Andrea, she's a legend for a number of reasons.


Obligatory shoutout to Big Dig. Rob Moore, pensive.


So, we show up at La Boom around 9pm - just as the doors are opening - and of course, while the place is filling up quickly, it's all guys. (This pic is actually from post-midnight. Yes, girls eventually showed up and despite the meatheads that are scattered throughout this pic, this place was sporting one of the better looking crowds I've seen in a while).


We were soon joined by the rest of the Medway crew - supercute Tanya (and, alas, her boyfriend), and Emma.H in the house with her boyfriend (both visiting from Australia), and er, who else was there? I seem to forget.


A little bit later: Litsa, Rob, Tanya, Katie, and me. Still, no good shot of the velvet catsuit. Damn you, digicam!

 
Hold up. let's not forget the go-go dancers in garters serving us drinks.

Oh, and Andrea's necklace. (Rob made me take this photo.)


Now, these next few photos... not very interesting on their own, but borderline interesting as a series. Or, maybe not interesting to you at all. In that case, shut up.

Katie meet Rob. Rob meet Katie.

Look at the cool, composed style the Lt. brings to the table.

Note: Actually, I think the whole union between Rob & KS was pre-meditated from the start - in fact, I think Katie knew she was going to shack up w/ the Lt. from the moment she touched down in Logan. Afterall, this flirty nonsense has been going on since high school, but only now were both finally single.


The hat comes off as things are heating up.

Note: Take note of the sweet sweet intensity of bottled high school lust in Katie's eyes.


Jackets off. Scarves off. Pants off.

Note: Don't let your man go, girl. Look at that grip.


Player's got moves.


See? This is what I'm talking about!


Uh huh.


See, not much excitement as documented by the digicam. Except of course for this picture of Tom Brady leaving the same club we were at (the only minor difference being he's with some hot escort and a 60 foot limo).

But at least when people look at me and say "La Boom? Oh no", I can at least claim that we were part of Brady's entourage. At least until Rob yelled "Hey Tom - can we get a ride home?!"

Amateur.