First appeared on Byte Stories:

http://www.bytestories.com/story/8a33a73/my-worst-ever-new-years-ever

It was twelve years ago.

In the month before, I’d broken up with my second serious girlfriend.

In the week before, I’d been involved in a team kayak race that finished on NYE in Swan Hill.

At 9pm on NYE I got chatting to a girl in a pub. My teammates left. I stayed. Then the girl left. Alone.

At 8pm I’d loaned my drivers licence to a 16-year-old teammate. By 9.30pm I’d been refused entry. Everywhere.

Moments after my ex-girlfriend phoned to tell me that so far she’d pashed 17 boys, and three girls, my mobile phone ran out of battery.

I walked around looking for my teammates, and then listened to the countdown. Alone.

I spent the next seven hours walking around Swan Hill looking for the campsite.

I repeatedly found a racecourse, football oval and farming equipment dealership.

At 3.30am I started trying to open car doors, in an effort to borrow one.

At 3.43am I opened one, and couldn’t start it.

By 4.23am I’d hailed over 50 taxis. Unsuccessfully.

At 4.32am a guy started walking beside me. He told me that he had four kids, to two different women, and picked oranges 363 days a year to afford the child support, as well as food and alcohol for himself. He was very skinny, and very drunk.

At 5.13am I started walking towards oncoming traffic. All the cars drove around me. None stopped. Some tooted.

At 7.03am I found the campsite. It was next to the racecourse.