For many years, New Year’s Eve was the night I got to watch people with unrealistic expectations pay $50 to get into a bar (that on any other night they could walk into for free), get a dollar store party favor and a NyQuil cup half-full of cheap ‘champagne’ that would later be puked onto their good shoes while they wait 45 minutes for a cab. So just like Canada Day and St.Patrick’s Day, New Years Eve is a night where you won’t find self-respecting former bar staff (of which there are five) anywhere near a licensed establishment. The few years that I haven’t spent midnight kissing my sweaty bar-back I have spent in the company of friends in someone’s home. There are many advantages to a house party. The champagne is better, there are no annoying strangers at the next booth requesting ‘Sweet Caroline’ (bar staff hate that song*), no line-ups, no last call and everyone is there because they want to be, not because they purchased their ticket months ago and feel obligated to get their money’s worth. My BFF, Julie had the mother of all formal house parties several years ago that was catered, had a heated tent for smokers, and a horse and carriage for guests to take rides around the neighborhood. After all that excitement, several of us chose to doff our evening wear for bathing suits for a soak in the hot tub. Beats changing kegs and emptying slop buckets full of Guinness and regret any day. Read more