You don’t need to drink to have a hangover after Mardi Gras; I have one now, just sitting in the office beneath fluorescent lights, tuning out the murmur of phone calls and machines, the sharpness of sounds dulled by asbestos tiles and thin carpet, everything seeming somnolent and solemn. After so many days in winter-crisp, sun-warmed streets, the city thrumming with music and chants and the sounds of ebullient crowds, this feels like Hell’s orderly waiting room. The wildness and laughter and delight of those nights gives way to this: a muted headache, a half-hearted yawn.
I love, love, love, love, love Mardi Gras, and I loved having Abby with me. With friends from Tumblr like Lacey and Liz and my regular pals like Will, John, Lucas, Paul, and others, we had a wonderful time, even when my mother almost got me arrested. Some assorted shots:
Alternate GPOYW: girls can’t resist the scarf.
Favorite costume: rum IV drip.
To be honest, it’s hard to discuss without growing a bit sad that it’s over, so I think I’ll just note this is my GPOYW with my favorite girl and my favorite pants (I’m wearing them right now), and the photos are here.
(I took better ones last year; this year I was having too much fun).