Boston Blatte

Raised in Boston, remade in Sweden

New Year’s Eve: Gnesta ain’t no Times Square. Oh well. Been there. Done that.

Tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 2009.  The way that phrase might sound sung to Prince’s 1982 hit of a similar name (- 10 years) just might appropriately resound the same lackluster New Year’s celebration we have in store for us tonight in the wilds of Gnesta.  Well, perhaps it’s more fair to say the partying of 2009 will pale in comparison to the partying on the same eve a decade ago.

On the eve of the new millennium the husband and I managed to finagle an invite to an extremely well-located bash overlooking NY’s Times Square. Times Square Departing our Swedish friends on their way to Ulrika’s on E.60th (a svenska stuga version of Aquavit albeit now closed) carrying a wad of cash ready for the imminent crash of every ATM, computer and humanity as we knew it and feeling snug as a bug in the City (thanks Rudy,) we headed over to 7th Avenue.

We hadn’t counted on a barricaded radius around Times Square manned by NYC’s finest. The message:  If you weren’t already in the Time’s Square area you weren’t getting in.  Well. Kind of. Sort of. Not really.

At least not for innocent Swedes. OK, one real, not-so-innocent-Swede, one fake Swede and one genuine, bona fide New Yorker.  But the tag-team, stereotype-laden, vaudeville routine starring Inga and Sven got us through. Our modus operandi was to approach the gate-keeper yammering inane things in Swedish like “So we just keep speaking Swedish as we approach the cop” and “I hope this works.”

I don’t know if it was my pathetic Swedish bikini team-sounding accent or because I look so genuinely Swedish (Eh, before anyone starts ranting about this…please see the picture above. That’s my genuine hair color. In louder words–I AM BEING FACETIOUS) but Inga got us through.

Faking a Swedish accent in English to dupe the boys in blue worked this time, but my general advice would be, “Do not try this at home.” On the other hand it got an American friend out of a speeding ticket in Arizona when he handed over his Stockholm library card telling the officer, “Dat’s a Sveedish driwing license.”

On a serious note,  I am looking forward to our [quieter] evening in Gnesta. The host is a hunter and there are always choice cuts of Bambi  or Bullwinkle served for dinner accompanied by a medley of Swedish drinking songs (snapsvisor) whet (sic) by a selection of taxed and untaxed snaps/aquavit.

A friendly remember to not drink and drive. Oh, and don’t forget tip your waitress.

Happy New Year,  Gott Nytt År and see you in 2010.


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