I rang in the new millennium in Evanston, Wyo. I figured if all technology was going to fail at the stroke of midnight, I should be in a place where there WAS no technology. (Many of the people there already think the year is 1900 anyway.)
Evanston’s biggest claim to fame is that Utahns go there to buy fireworks that are quite understandably illegal in Utah. I was there, however, to hang out with my friend Other Eric, who lives there.
I had never been to Wyoming before. My first impression of it as I neared Other Eric’s house was that it’s a scenic, beautiful place, a winter wonderland full of WHY THE CRUD AM I BEING PULLED OVER?! I was not speeding. The officer did not give me a ticket, but neither did he ever say why he stopped me. I later learned that it was probably because my car has Utah license plates, which is evidently against the law in the otherwise lawless state of Wyoming.
We learned late in the evening that the town of Evanston (pop. 12,000) was having a big celebration downtown, including the dropping of a ball much like Times Square does. So we went downtown and found the area packed full of excited Evanstoners and their cigarettes. There was a grandstand on which stood a man who I’m guessing was the mayor, who was speaking into a microphone that did not seem to be working, though this did not stop him from speaking. All the local police were there, thus allowing people with Utah license plates to run amok in other parts of the city. People were talking and smoking excitedly. Some of them were dressed (I’m serious here) in hunting fatigues. I did not see any guns, but I’m sure the fatigue-wearers had them at the ready, in case something crazy happened at the advent of Y2K, like a riot erupting or a homosexual existing.
The ball, it turns out, was a glittering disco ball attached to a cable that someone was going to lower from atop a crane. When midnight struck, the dropping of the ball proved to be rather stupid, as you might expect, but it was followed by a fireworks display that, in all honesty, was 1,000,000 times better than Provo’s annual “Stadium of (Fire the Employee Who Recommended You Go to Stadium of) Fire.” Seriously. They might be a little back-woodsy in Wyoming, and sure, maybe they have more guns than library books, but I’ll give them this: They know how to put together a fireworks show.
Immediately after this, there was a party in a nearby building. Much of the crowd began to file festively into this party. Other Eric and I mixed in with the revelers, many of whom, being efficiency-minded, had saved time by getting drunk beforehand, possibly as early as November. We couldn’t afford the cover charge at the party (and didn’t really want to go in anyway); instead, upon leaving the building, we saw four men in suits standing behind a pickup truck, urinating in the parking lot. All four were turned at precisely the same angle, making it look like an event of Synchronized Peeing.
Evanston!
Back at Other Eric’s place, he introduced me to his family’s New Year’s tradition, where you run a lap, barefoot, around the outside of the house. This is easily as stupid as it sounds, as there is a great deal of snow on the ground on New Year’s Eve in Wyoming, but we did it anyway. Then we went out back and shot off a bunch of fireworks. Other Eric, ignoring the label on the Roman Candles that said “Do not hold this in your hand,” held it in his hand. When it didn’t shoot out its fireballs immediately, he feared it was going to explode in his hand, so he dropped it on the ground, at which point it DID shoot out its fireballs, only instead of being pointed at the sky, it was now pointed at us. We all ran for cover as fireballs erupted around us, and Other Eric’s brother took one in the butt. (The worst part about that was that he later insisted on showing us the welt it caused.) The millennium was not even an hour old, and already Other Eric had endangered the lives of others. His family did not seem surprised by this.
So if the first night is any indication, the new millennium is going to be one of festivities, drunkenness, public urination and poorly handled explosives. Just like the old millennium! Hooray!