Have I got plans for Millenium-Eve
 Life had been going along rather smoothly. Then someone asked that fatal question, the one I dread every year -- and this time it had a twist. The conversation went like this:
"So what are you doing on New Millenium's Eve?"
"Huh?"
"You mean you haven't made reservations anywhere yet?"
"I uh..."
"Look, if you're ever gonna party with the rest of the world on a New Year's Eve, make it this one... I mean, your great great great great grandchildren won't ever get a millenium in their lives1x It's once in a THOUSAND years1x" (I do understand the term Millenium.) "Do you really want to spend it with your mom, dad and Dick Clark again???"
At that point, I looked at my watch, exclaimed with enthusiasm something about a dentist appointment, and escaped my inquisitor (who obviously hadn't spent much quality time with mom, dad, and Dick). But then I thought, What AM I going to do?
What if November comes around, and then December, and my mom fills her freezer with those miniature piggy-in-blanket hors d'oevres, and my dad asks if I prefer the plastic noisemakers with little streamers dangling off the ends or the paper ones which unroll and then curl up again? What if my great great great great grandchildren one day decide to find out how their ancestors spent the eve of the millenium, the likes of which they will never experience?
I said to myself, why not start the millenium ahead and be among the very first to welcome year 2000? I called friends in beautiful Fiji and they were kind enough to fill me in on a sampling of the festivities scheduled to herald in the New Year. They even offered to sign me up on the reservation waiting lists. Fighting the urge to panic I decided to make a Plan B in the event Plan A doesn't go through (my friends in Fiji are kind, but sometimes relaxed to a fault). It occurred to me: a distant aunt of mine, Cleo Patra, owns a strip of land along the Nile, and would probably appreciate some familial company. Why not give her a ring? Though I tried to explain, I'm not sure she knew who I was. Nevertheless, she graciously suggested I join her at the Pyramids for a gala celebration. That wouldn't be a bad alternative to the tropical South Pacific. Then again, I wouldn't mind hanging out with a bunch of restless chefs in Polynesia . . .
Where ever I go (or whichever waiting list first knocks off names), I will be sure to bring some vital accessories. Here's a tip for those of you inundated with invitations: BYOCF=Bring Your Own Champagne Flute. Why not catch some jealous stares as you toast, clink, and sip from a Y2K champagne flute designed just for you? Or you could bring a set or two and share the wealth, but of course, only if you have other eye-catching accessories which might glean jealousy.
Which brings me to the other yearly dread, the dread of New Year's resolutions.
A New Millenium's resolution sounds too tall an order, although mine should concern making some friends in my own country that I could play with on the eve of January 1, 2001.
My resolution will be orbited into space in a Y2K time capsule, so some day my great great great great grandkids will at least know that once in my life I tried to plan ahead.
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