What happened the night before the new year.

In brief, since it's late.

To downtown Seattle. Accidently drove by a hotel with a view. Stopped in on a hunch. A bit of God's favor later and we had a suite overlooking the space needle, one block from the paramount. Beats a 15 minute drive to the show plus parking. Caught a cab to Kells, the Irish pub on post alley. They wouldn't let my dad buy me non-alchoholic beer. In the words of the Irish woman I met at Kells last year, "Ef I tol' 'em thet en Irelund, they'ould lauff et mae." Watch a security guard lock up the market. Cab back, family decides it wants snacks for the night. Convince valet to give me dad's car, though I don't have the claim ticket. Drive to QFC. Park underground. Shop. Can't find noisemakers. Go to bartell's on the floor above QFC. Turns out there's a parking lot on top of QFC too. Bartells is relegated to a corner of rooftop strip-mall. $3.29 for Happy-Birthday noise makers. Purchased. Get lost looking for car. Parking lot attendant angry: Cashier was supposed to stamp the parking ticket. OOOH, that's what validation means. Here's the receipt. And the bag. It says QFC. "'Don't do it again" he says. Poor guy lives underground: best forgive him. Speed home. Get dressed up. Walk to the Paramount. Feel rich in cashmere sweater holding last minute ticket. Rich feeling subsides as woman with a poorly kempt lawn on her head sits in front of me. Spend Lion King leaning into the aisle. Fifteen seconds in and I'm fighting tears. Not because of the seat; because of the show. It's so beautiful. "Happily ever after" beautiful. "We're gonna be a family!" beautiful. "Home, Shadow, Home," beautiful. "A seperate peace" beautiful. "Les Mis" beautiful. Live choir beautiful. Christmas carols at the president's beautiful. Best friend beautiful. Sunset on the Olympics beautiful. See it. It's that beautiful.

Greet the new year on the balcony above a bunch of drunks chain smoking cheap cigarettes. Love your neighbor has a whole new meaning. Read sister to sleep. Sleep.