Ye Faithful

Or, How I Spent My New Year's

December 31

I'm sitting on my food and dirt-stained sofa wearing a tee shirt bearing the symbol of the Robert Plant/Jimmy Page reunion concert, and jeans of Levi and Strauss. When was the last time I showered? Or shaved? Couldn't have been that long ago. Recently I've had no reason to. Of course, I would. If I had to worry about offending somebody else.

I wonder what Jimmy Page is doing right now.

I'm alone, not by choice. Well not quite alone. I have Kurt Loder and Lisa Loeb, and Moon Zappa keeping me company. Not to mention the Wise owl that stares at me from his nest on the potato chip bag...

Okay, I'm alone.

But what is New Year's anyway? I mean, just some arbitrary night that was chosen to make you feel blah blah blah blah blah --

That's not working for me. It never does. Rationalizing. Ha! I'm bound to self-pity. I'll just have to live with it. And now I have yet another reason: I can't even get it together enough to explain away the meaninglessness of New Year's Freaking Eve!

I let some time pass.

Tonight I've laughed with Comedy Central. I've cried with A&E. I got into some trouble with Mr. Ed and Samantha Stevens on Nick at Night. Now, I'm back in Times Square with MTV. I look like crap. My mouth has a dry salty, sour taste -- dry from the potato chips and pizza.

The apartment is dark, and the only light and noise is coming from the TV.

It's getting close.

Why am I alone. Why? I ask myself. Because I'm not good looking enough? Because I wouldn't settle and just go out with just anybody? Yep.

Yeah. That's it. It has nothing to do with the fact that my date -- the reason why I spent a fortune on my haircut and wardrobe for the evening -- ditched me in the end. Where's she right now, huh? Probably out... having fun.. and --

Well, I don't need her. I've got...

... Martha Stewart on Lifetime.

Here it comes. That meaningless commercialized... no, that's just not going to work tonight. I am looking at the phone. I'm hoping it will ring. I am hoping this, because I know if it does, that will be a good thing. It can't be my mom. My mom already called and is out for the night. My mom is out for the night. And I am here. A l o n e. alonealonealonealonealone

Okay -- so, a phone call would definitely be a good thing.

I am looking at the phone. And the clock. And Times Square.

It rings. It Rings! IT RINGS!! I jump off the couch (for the first time in about 5 hours) and run to it. To my savior. I let it ring once more. You know: to play it cool. Don't wanna jinx it. (Rings again.) But I also don't want to let an opportunity get out of reach, so...

"Hello?"

"Good evening"

(Good evening? Who says good evening?)

"Yes. Who is this please?"

"I'm calling from AT&T."

"Ya don't say." I'm angry. I'm fuming. I never fume, but I think I'm beginning to fume now.

"I'm sorry?" The man was obviously confused.

"You should be." And with that, I hang up.

And then I just sit on the floor, a few feet from the TV that's still talking to me, holding the purveyor of evil in my lap. "Te- le-phone." I say out loud to nobody in particular, looking at it. It's actually funny. Why is the phone shaped like the Liberty Bell?

I pick it up, for no reason at all. Maybe I'll rip the cord off. Maybe I'll slam the receiver against the wall. Maybe I'll bite it.

Instead, I listen to the dial tone. And,

I dial 0. That perfect number centered in the bottom row of the organized keypad. "OPER."

"Thank you for calling Bell Atlantic. Can I help you?"

Pleasant enough.

"Well, actually, um..."

"Yes sir?"

Sounds like a nice young lady.

"Well, you know how its New Year's and all..." My voice trailed off.

"Sir, can I help you?"

She was beginning to sound irate. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. Forget it.

This wasn't right. Not at all.

But maybe it wasn't me. Maybe she wasn't the right operator. I was beginning to get my confidence back. This was something I've never done before, but I knew enough to know that if I called back, the odds of getting the same woman -- if I was lucky enough to get another woman (it had to be a woman, don't know why) -- were very good.

I still had one more minute. I was determined.

I dial 0, again.

"Thank you for calling Bell Atlantic. Can I help you?"

This time, I'm more confident.

"Yes, hi. First, I'd like to say thank you."

She laughs.

Excellent sign.

"Okay... For what?"

"Well, you know how it's New Year's?"

"Yes, yes I do."

She sounds really friendly. Not only that, but she continues, almost reading my mind.

"Are you alone tonight?"

"Actually I am." Did I call the operator, or Psychic Friends Network?

"Sir, Happy New Year." She says calmly.

"Well, Happy New Year to you too," I say cheerfully.

"And," the operator seems hesitant.

"Yes?"

"You're welcome, sir."

Silence for a moment.

"Can I help you with anything else?"

"May I ask your name?"

"We're only supposed to give out our operator numbers. You know, if there's any complaints."

"Oh no." I answer. "Nothing like that. It's just that, well..." I pause not really knowing exactly what it is I want to say. "You really brightened up my year, and I'd like to know your name, if that's okay."

"What the heck -- it's New Year's. I'm Hope."

"Hope, it's nice to meet you."

"While it is a pleasure to meet you, I could get into serious trouble if I just sit and chat like this."

"I understand." Pause. "Hope, thank you."

"No. Thank you."

I could tell she was smiling.