For want of a plastic cutlass

I was more of a gypsy than a pirate, in the final analysis. But no one gave me a hard time about it. In fact, all the other swashbuckling folk were terribly welcoming. And I made friends in odd ways. I tried to teach someone how to juggle with a trio of limes. I doubled up on a Cheap Trick song for moral karaoke support. I helped remove a corset and stood as lady-in-waiting while the disgusting bathroom facilities were being used. And I took scads of photos. And met people I already knew but didn't actually know. And I'm too tired to try and handle the photos or to tell the tales or to complain about the coffee shop or to even recount all that Beulah and Justin and I did today. But it's coming up on five a.m., and that means exactly the same thing every day.

I couldn't get drunk to save my life.