Some people make it a habit to usher in the new year in a state of such heightened intoxication that they seldom recall the events of their last hours of 2016. Then there are those who watch a few episodes of their favorite show, knock back a glass of cheap sparkling wine and go to sleep before the ball drops. I’ve never been in either of these categories, but the one into which I often align would surely be closer to the former, minus the drunk and disorderly.
The island of Anguilla offers quite a few NYE activities which fall into distinct categories: low-budget, middle range and high-brow. As an island which boasts many high end luxury resorts, it is a given that there will be exclusive parties dripping with celebrity influence. This year wasn’t as lavish as former celebrations, but still did not negate the exclusive NYE shenanigans of the newly christened Four Seasons’ rendition of its former iteration’s lavish ball drop party. Secondary to that was Cuisinart’s new baby “The Reef” which boasted what, according to social media, was the trendiest of Anguilla’s NYE bashes at a lowly $250US per person. For a more low-key NYE, quite a few restaurants offered prix fixe menus ranging from $75-$150.
Was I at any of these?
No. I rang in 2017 on Meads Bay with some of my closest friends, a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and some delectable lychee cupcakes. Turning thirty a couple years ago welcomed a new wave of what we consider a lime (the West Indian word for “hang out”). The idea of overspending at a restaurant or foregoing conversation because the music is too loud is no longer my idea of a fun New Year’s Eve. This was my first year not migrating to Anguilla’s predominant afterparty spot, Sandy Ground, with the masses to continue a sweat infused pantomime of feigned interest in the goings on of the younger crowd and I am okay with that. We saw amazing fireworks from both Four Seasons and Malliouhana, the stoic pair of 5 star resorts which frame Meads Bay. No one was drunk and spewing randomness. Best of all I didn’t have to take my heels off by 2am because (spoiler alert) I wasn’t wearing any.