For New Year’s celebrations, some prefer partying
with throngs of lovely strangers in the city; some with many loved ones in a
home furnished for social gatherings. This last year, the gang and I decided to
do something a little different. We rang in the New Year in a game-laden hotel
room, telling horrible stories of fiction one word and a time, eating
family-restaurant chain congealed appetizers two hours before the drop, and, of
course, trekking into the Pocono Mountains and visiting the fabled Penn Hills
Resort.
