New Year’s is all about tradition. We eat black-eyed peas; we see those dumb cartoons with the old man labeled 2008 and the baby labeled 2009; we are forced to deal with people who usually don’t drink as they come out of the woodwork to get wasted at some place with a $50 cover. And of course, the ball drops — sometimes in more ways than one.

Overheard of the Week

In the bathroom at Union Station, about 1 a.m. on January 1:

A phone rings inside a stall:

Man: “Yo, happy new year! I’m in Union Station taking a shit, what about yourself?”

After the jump, precocious kids, seemingly obvious sports explanations, and saxophones.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, send overheards to overheardindc(at)gmail(dot)com

Photo by lorigoldberg