Well, a hard rain fell. California is mopping up after a week of storms that brought floods, mudslides, power-outages and evacuations. Governor Arnie yesterday declared a state of emergency in seven counties, and even finally admitted that the levee system, which has suffered a few breaches in the recent storms, are in desperate need of repair. Both my TV and radio yesterday evening were interrupted by a peculiar (and incomprehensible) announcement warning of flash floods in Modesto and areas around Dry Creek. However, while many have been made homeless, everyone appears ready to admit that under the circumstances we got off pretty lightly. One weatherman said “we dodged the bullet – it could have been far worse.”

That wasn’t the only bullet that needed dodging over the New Year, however. The LAPD, among other police departments, issued a warning to people who follow the tradition of shooting a gun into the air at the stroke of midnight, saying they could face up to a year in prison. Shooting guns into the air! Can you believe this? Apparently it’s quite common in some areas. Have they not heard of ‘party poppers’?  

At least it was dry on New Year’s Eve. The storms gave everybody a window in which to party, so we took the cue and stayed in with a couple of videos. At midnight, we switched to a channel showing the New Year festivities, and I was hoping to see a wonderful firework display in San Francisco, a concert in LA, hell I would have settled for some kids shooting their guns in the air in Sacramento. But what we got was the annual Time Square celebration, thousands of people packed into the neon dungeon, waiting for a large crystal ball to drop (but not break). I was disappointed; you probably think, what a grouch, but the thing is, it happened three hours beforehand, and the TV stations had the cheek to say it was ‘Live’! As if Californians do not realize that New York is on the other side of the country. Now New York is a great city and I wish them no disrespect, but is it too much to ask that we see an actual live event from one of the equally great cities in our time zone.

I resolved to write a letter to the TV stations to complain. “I don’t care how old Dick Clarke is, I don’t care if it is tradition…” I started to imagine myself as a revolutionary, leading the secession of the West away from the Empire States, dumping boxes of party-poppers into the San Francisco Bay in protest. Then sleep overwhelmed me, and when I awoke the storms were back, the flood warnings in place, and I realized I didn’t care that much about New Year’s Eve. “I can’t believe it’s 2006,” I overhear imaginary people saying. Well I can; I’ve had a year to prepare for it after all.