Beers and Boobs

There was a rumor one year that the Mermaid Parade was having its last hurrah.  That was the year I didn’t go because it was raining, after several years of making it to town too late in the summer to attend.  The rumor proved untrue, but I continued to arrive too late.

Now I live here.  Take THAT Coney Island – you can’t keep me away.

Was it all I had hoped?  Well, there were bras made of koosh balls, yes.

Participants kept things topical:

It was kind of hard to see, especially that fifteen minutes of standing my ground while a tiny Asian lady tried to body slam me out of my place.  Sure showed her.  These guys didn’t have that problem.

In general, there were remarkably few topless participants.  And really, wasn’t that why we were all there?

I did have my first mango-on-a-stick

just before the cart was closed down.

The Russian pirate-themed sushi place we ended up at was pretty nifty too.  Although I don’t like beer, so I didn’t have one of the impressive liter jugs.

New York is neat.