Thoth Brings the Pain

There was a flurry of activity, and we had to get up around 10 or 11, which wasn’t fun. After not recalling much from the prior evening, my hangover was surprisingly mild, but I still was far from 100%. I made a trip back to the Winn-Dixie, which took a very long time. My brain, running slower than normal, just couldn’t comprehend where the bacon would be, and J-R eventually called my phone, worried that I had passed out somewhere in the pork section.
The Thoth parade was starting right near Linsday’s house, but we walked up a couple blocks onto Magazine to stand in a more festive area.

Brothers Mitch and Andy Cahn enjoy a pre-parade beer. Photo by Rich.

Carm feels like a million bucks. (He hasn’t eaten anything yet.)

Photo by Rich.

The Thoth float presents Dick Cheney’s worst nightmare.

Photo by Carm.

In the middle of the parade, a skywriter made a big smiley face. This was later followed by “Jesus loves you,” but the wind was blowing and it took him so long to finish that it just looked like “sus loves you.”

Photo by Carm.

We all caught a ton of beads, cups, and other crap, and most of us got whacked in the face at least once. Of course, no one had it worse than a guy who was basically asking for it. One of Kevin’s friends wore a Saints helmet and held up a sign that said “(name of some guy he knew on a float) throws like Brooks.” Apparently, this guy and his floatmates did not appreciate being compared to the Saints former, interception-prone quarterback, so they pelted him with beads. I mean, he got drilled. The float stopped in front of him, and everyone threw everything at him. He was pummeled by beads, dubloons, cups, footballs, and more. The poor guy even sunk to the ground in the fetal position, but they showed no mercy. It was so brutal that the bead throwers broke a store window.

The Thoth victim before he took his fall. Photo by Carm.

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