Halloween Good. Gin Bad.

Today I should feel like the cat that has been licking the cream – content and happy. Yesterday was the gay high holiday and my costume won a prize! Not seven meters of green velvet or seven dead dwarves or painting my body blue or an axe with a foot on it or or or….. what won was furry britches and a red scarf! I went as Mr. Tumnus from Narnia and couldn’t have had a better time if I had a bucketful of sardines.

However, my breath smells like ass and my head felt like it was hosting a party most of the day. It wasn’t a throne hugging ‘Oh my God, if you get me through this I will never drink again’ days, but I have had better. And really, it is the fault of my winning. We were having a wickedly perfect night when I found extra cash in my hand. “Double G and Ts for everyone” Mr. Tumnus shouted as we all scurried to the bar. At least what was left of us.

Our band of merry makers got spilt up. Church Street was as packed as it is on Pride – if not more so with all the big costumes about. Fauntleroy, Cell Phone Boy, Mr. Dubai and I were separated from the Dollhouse Girls, CJ, KitKat, H.B.J. and the rest. Talking on a cell phone in Woody’s was about as fruitful as lighting a match under water.

Despite this, all reports so far are that a good time was had by all. They certainly had a great turn out and there were A LOT of costumes. Some years there are so many tourists that finding other people dressed up is like finding a needle in a haystack.

Thanks to the gin as well, I have obligated myself to wearing stilts next year. Fauntleroy thinks this a ‘delicious’ idea. “How about we do the Van Trapp family?” I asked. “On stilts!” He said. No kilts is my only guideline. At the time it felt like a good idea to agree, but if I am so high up, how will I be able to reach my gin? Perhaps an extra long straw.