Stupid time travel. Stupid immortality. Stupid alternate universes.
He's still thinking about the Dyer expedition and its new Year at the bottom of the world tonight. Peter and Dana made a date tonight, and so did Egon and Janine. Winston was off with his sister and her kids. That just leaves Ecto, and Slimer, and technically Peck. That's fine with Ray; he's not ready to celebrate another New Year just yet. Being surrounded by people intent on partying would be much too weird. So he begged off hanging out with his daughter (Ecto said it was fine, as she had some foreign markets to check up on), fed the Siamese fighting fish, tucked Slimer in for the night, and went upstairs.
The Firehouse is located in lower Manhattan, at the heart of one of the biggest pits of light pollution on the Eastern seaboard. Between the mucky sodium light scattered uselessly upwards and the clouds that ghost over the island, headed out to sea from the Jersey side, it's almost enough to let him forget that they're coming 'round right.