Now after you see a parade float for bail bonds that says "because it really does" and you have to decide for yourself if they are refering to jail being no fun or the relationship you might develope with your new cellmate, there is only one thing to do. Eat more mini donuts and drink more champagne. Out of the bottle. Standing in front of the port-o-potty.
Then you make more random friends. You take pictures with them even though you have no intention of ever seeing them again. You do some jello shots. You drink more champagne. Then you realize the illustrious stripper, bail bond, alumni group and bar floats have come to an end. It's a good thing someone was taking pictures. I don't think I saw more than 3 floats (if you can call a flat bed trailer full of drunks a float).
So we headed toward Trinity Hall with our new friends. On the way we stopped at the cruiser so I could drop off the cooler and put on deodorant... in front of strangers. Unfortunately at this point all hope of my having any manners was lost.
Trinity Hall brought us more drinks and more firends. Sadly though, the people who met us there were still, what's the word I'm looking for... sober. On the flip side, the triathlete turns out to be an amazing wingman for her drunk friends and somehow this happened...