…and a Wonderful New Year.

I spent last night inside an alcoholic vortex. I came out neither shaken or stirred.

As the night progressed, people slowly peeled off from the pack, reaching their limits both socially and physically. One guy spent two hours loaded to the gills on vodka and India Pale Ale, telling everyone within a few feet of himself that he hasn’t spent much time drinking as of late, while attempting to turn every song included on Rockband’s expansive playlist into a death metal cover, whether he was on the mic or not. Wearing a Slayer vest covered in pins, this boisterous man took periodic breaks from evangelizing about the high glories of metal music to stand out on the balcony, breathing in chilly air in an unsuccessful attempt to clear his head. He was mercifully carted away an hour before midnight, his saintly girlfriend gently tugging him out the door. There’s no way he’ll remember this party, but I’m sure he’ll know from his inevitable hangover that he had a great time.

All of us did.

My friend Michael is a great guy. Like me, he also survived a quasi-comical study-abroad adventure in China’s Gansu province. It was a nonsensical trip, with masturbating roommates, new couples “finding” each other, and a large variety of questionably cheap alcohols. It was the perfect breeding ground for a lasting friendship.

A year later, Michael and his roommates were hosting a party on New Year’s Eve, and I received an invite. Until the last year or so, I’ve had a tendency to avoid social events like the plague. Upon remembering that I’m over 21 and I enjoy alcohol, I’ve made an attempt to develop what might approximate a normal person’s social life. With two bottles of alcohol in tow, I joined the festivities.

One of the weirder things I’ve noticed about adulthood is that there’s a high likelihood that you’ll have to improvise everything. Growing up, I found myself assuming that you reach a certain age and find yourself knowing how to function on a basic level. However, every time I actually talk to people, this premise falls apart immediately. Everyone tries to hold on as best they can, while inevitably learning something new every day. It’s a pretty difficult thing to escape.

These thoughts bubbled through my mind as the party rolled on into the night. People bounced in and out of the main room, with new guests appearing frequently, while each of the hosts disappeared for short stretches. In one corner, a few people hammered controllers, fighting for dominance matches of Super Smash Brothers. In another, people fought with an uncooperative wireless receiver that periodically interrupted the sets of an impromptu Rockband concert. To the other side of the room, a clutch of half-drunken men lustily eyed the oven that had been delivering the delicious final forms of take-and-bake pizzas for hours.

Close to midnight, a short discussion occurred about lame ex-husbands and other messes relating to divorce, and the room got somewhat quieter as a guy got down on one knee and proposed to his girlfriend. It was an awkward attempt in a way, as everyone present seemed somewhat confused and unsure about the reality of this seemingly impromptu moment. As the girlfriend said yes, everyone began politely clapped. The ambient soundtrack of our abandoned Rockband game swelled into a loud, cheering crowd, sealing the moment forever in our memories.

Now gathered around and elated, we all simultaneously checked our phones, trying to pinpoint our proximity to the end of 2015. The minutes counted down until 2016 arrived. One of the guys pulled out a bottle of champagne that he’d secretly brought to the party. As a round was poured, we savored the taste of celebration in red plastic cups.

By the end of the night, the group slowly trimmed. Soon I was among a small handful of people, railing against the inane nature of our retail jobs while the others finished the last remnants of a truly impressive spread of alcohol. Soon, those that weren’t the hosts were thrown out on the street, and the party officially came to a close.

I stood outside next to my car for a little while, staring up at the moon in the cloudless sky while my breath leaked out as a thick mist. It was weird to think that, only two years before, I wouldn’t have had any interest in doing something like showing up at a party where I know only one or two people. Since I’ve passed some of the aging milestones that indicate the onset of adulthood, I’ve felt rather adrift, feeling as though I have to pretend to understand how the world works. At the end of 2015, the feeling of listlessness is still there, but I don’t feel so bad about pretending anymore.

So thanks to everyone that helped me survive 2015, and thanks to everybody that helped me end it in style.