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Hey you, its 9:20 p.m. and the hoards are on their way to downtown Hudson, for New Year’s Eve and its next four hours into the a.m. There would be no 16 below temp this year, and although the final results have not yet been tabulated and cross-checked and rubber-stamped, it seems to have really re-hit its stride.

Before the clock struck ten, it was time for the revelry to begin. As the warmer weather had set it.
Like even last year’s 16 below temps — which still did not seem to create much of a damper — could keep the crowds away from their haven of haunts for another holiday, them being open two more hours, (weekday time).
This was New Year’s Eve in downtown Hudson, although it took a few venues a bit to get rolling, thinks were relatively balmy inside and out, and come time for the evening news, the news was that I didn’t even want to guess how many thousands of people the overall joint would eventually push through, by the typical 4 a.m. closing.
A stop at Hudson Tap, at around 8 p.m., where the flood of people had not set in. Give that a half-hour, and the families with young kids would be slowly replaced by the more typical New Year’s Eve-ish crowd, as it filtered in. A quick walk that was a very short jaunt toward the freeway, saw a few couples that could be Classic Rockers working their way back to where I had been.
Then cut ahead to a little after 9 p.m. I thought I recognized the server who was setting up shop behind a steel tub, which was then filled with several bags of ice and then beer She thought things were, still, a bit slower than her liking. But our eyes met as one, and I advised: “give it 20 minutes.”
The resulting rush, for her and co-workers, was like an octopus with suction cups at the tips of its squishy legs. (I’ve just been waiting to use that gag).

This is not as funny as Geico:
Three straight insurance offers popped up into my inbox in just two seconds and only two did Universal coverage and one just Life. And so goes my life. They need a life. Or this time, was it me. Minnesota 3-2 beer? And can I get Insurance for such semi-spam?
A full 3 into 2 messages popped up on my inbox screen red-hot-button prompter, as I think another had just arrived and was deemed to be starred (or trash?) in my eyes, so does that mean it’s deleted, and that’s OK, as we’ve all been there?? (When a tree falls and wind thusly blows in the woods and no one hears or “sees” it with starry eyes … and did this mean I’m actually the one to blame, if I got the analogy wrong?) I think — in a nano-second it was — this time they were timely — when on the bus ticket they said St. Paul and not Hudson, actually, was the place to be picked up. Oh, wait that was my other bus line (yes, there were taken simultaneously, believe it or not, and see how in the previous post. Just that the latter ticket should have said Lakeland rather than the park and ride across from the Hudson Target store). So we go round again?

At Ziggy’s, would the elves and their pointy ears on yet another holiday be behind the counter, on their way back to pick up at the bar-rail, or there out in the audience. Oh, it was a patron, but on this night not listening to a Celtic band.
Next the keyboard, three women (and I think one guy?), were gathered around, on the edge of the ivories. I said they could be the Piano Women. Their bling could bring a jingle.
And bling? I saw out for the first time in ages, a fabulous and leggy woman sporting barely-there strappy and spiked heels. There had been the fashion motif to have worker-meets-metal-concert boots that were tweaked to have a smaller-scale, cool style look, but has now turned functional with the cold and snow. (More relatively soon on this website, about such fashion trends that more and more define things …)
Back up the way again, just north of the corner with Walnut, was an Old School Hudson antique shop, being on the move, which had a set of two scaffoldings taking up space on the sidewalk, to be walked around. (This was the second time I’d had to negotiate this space, and again (after-hours?), there was no construction crew racing things forward, like the whole deal where there on the freeway are/can be dozens or hundreds of orange barrels and nobody blasting concrete, at least at the time. (Maybe I should change-up my driving schedule).
The first time to get-on-by this walking barrier, I encountered on the other side a worker for FedEx, and it was a game of chicken to see who would first enter into the 12-foot-long narrow foot track that still was stilted in snow. He graciously gave in. What a professional.

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