Playa del Carmen, Mexico
It's gone 7pm when we wake from our siesta to the sound of terrible piano covers of Beatles songs wafting up from the lobby. 'Hey Jude' is especially excruciating, almost as bad as Macca's massacre of it at the Olympics. Still groggy we steel ourselves for the celebrations to come.
But first is dinner, buffet-style, in Cafe Del Mar. There's a vast array of dishes on offer but none of them particularly grab us. We graze away for a while before I notice a chap in the corner cooking steaks to order. So I have a very juicy New York steak while Coman tucks into a huge bowl of pasta.
Outside around the pool families have pre-booked tables for a gala-style New Year's Eve dinner, with "entertainment". A DJ who looks just like Psy, but without the Gangnam Style dance, is on the decks while on stage is a dance troupe gamely hoofing their way through some fabulously camp yet ropy cabaret performances.
The routines veer from traditional Mexican dancing through the can-can to Bollywood and a Beatles medley in the first ten minutes alone - all performed by the same eight dancers frantically changing costumes in between, barely concealed by a flimsy curtain. It's like a budget Strictly Come Dancing meets Seaside Special, all in front of a poolside audience trying to control their screaming, over-tired children.
A spectacularly out of time routine to Beyonce's 'Single Ladies' is jaw-droppingly hilarious not least because of the fierce looks of concentration on the poor dancers' faces as they all wonder what each other is actually dancing to. A flamenco stamp quickly turns into a mambo and then comes Riverdance. Oh holy hilarity. This is priceless! David Guetta better pull out all the stops later to beat this.
Once they've finished Coman and I go and get ready for the beach rave, artfully filling a water bottle from the liquor dispensers in our room, and - stopping only for a photo beside the rapidly-melting 2013 ice sculpture in the lobby - venture onto 5th Avenue which is mobbed.
Every bar and restaurant is filled to capacity, music is throbbing from every establishment, rock bands and mariachi bands vie for listeners, refreshed holiday-makers are staggering their way along the street and we're offered a variety of drugs as we weave our way between them all.
It's close to 11pm by the time we make it to Marmitas Beach Club, where 15,000 revellers have paid between $150 and $500 US dollars for the privilege of being crammed into a ridiculously busy outdoor club. We've been given VIP tickets but if anything this area is even busier than the others and queuing to get a diet coke to add to our discretely hidden water bottle proves a Herculean task.
At one bar we struggle to get served for 15 minutes while a succession of besuited New York 'industry' types barge their way to the front and scream at the bar staff demanding bottles of vodka, insisting the bar-tenders speak to them in English ("I ain't speaking Spanish to you, asshole!!") and thrusting fistfuls of dollars at the poor guys while egging each other on ("Let's get bombed!").
When our turn eventually comes - after I actually have to put my hand across one girl's mouth who is trying to shout over me to get herself and her friends served first - we're told they can't serve soft drinks at this bar, despite mountains of them piled up behind them, only alcohol.
The whole vibe is deeply unpleasant and we almost leave in despair before finally finding a quieter spot elsewhere and managing to purchase a couple of cans of coke. By now it's almost midnight and as the obligatory countdown reaches zero fireworks light up the sky to huge cheers and then a burst of lazers and a throbbing bassline announce the Gallic DJ's arrival.
The light show is spectacular, the sound exceptional and the hits blasted out back to back. All around us people are bouncing up and down and for the first 40 minutes or so we're swept up in the spectacle. With some one-liners from Mr Guetta along the lines of "Scream if you like 2013" and "Are you ready for 2013" and "Everybody, let's go mad for..." - you guessed it - "2013!!" there's no doubting that we've seen in the New Year with a suitably diverting night, but to be honest - I'm knackered and want to go to bed.
So it's the long, slow walk back along 5th Avenue, past more revellers showing no signs of stopping, and a welcome flop into bed by 2am. I could sleep for a week.
