Oh, hey, look at that. You made it. Good for you. Seriously—for surviving that Mayan thing. It was a close call. For a minute, your whole life flashed before your eyes. Or at least your year. It was beautiful. It looked a little like this...
You knew 2012 would be great when they served you the bacon mash at Acme. Le Baron upped your number of waify Parisian model acquaintances exponentially. And kung pao pastrami finally entered your life, courtesy of San Fran transplant Mission Chinese... The free beer line didn’t hurt either.
Graydon Carter helped the Beatrice Inn grow up from its seedy (wonderful) subterranean past... with snake-venom cocktails. You lamented the passing of Bill’s Gay Nineties and welcomed its wonderful, smoked-bacon-chop-having successor. And Bungalow 8 returned as a gastropub. Most gastropubs party through sunrise these days.
The NoMad Hotel single-handedly legitimized the NoMad portmanteau with a dinner-and-cocktails stunner from the EMP guys. Then came its rooftop. Also, Wythe Hotel gave you the panoramic rooftop views of the Ides and that transcendent duck of Reynards in Williamsburg. Where the ducks transcended before it was cool.
The skies became angry. But you were fine. Your umbrella turned inside out. But it was okay. Unruly champagne-bottle spray went unchecked. And you welcomed it. All because you had this spill-proof tux. No one even seemed to mind that you were wearing it every single day.
The Hamptons were great and all, but... well, there was no free parking. Which wasn’t a problem at Erotic Bethel. It’s why you loved it there. That, and the nude three-legged couples races, the erotic dance party and the judgment-free, swinging Catskills lifestyle. Coulda been those, too.
Your love of ramen saw its pinnacle in 2012. Probably because it got together with your love of pastrami, moved to Brooklyn and became the Deli Ramen at Dassara. It was Mile End meat. It was matzo balls. It was f**king spectacular.
