Where's Waldo (Shitshow Edition)

Mermaid Parade, ugh. Sorry guys, I am not a big "crowd" person. I'm not a big "burlesque" person- I totally think it's a cool thing in and of itself, but much like Steampunk and contact juggling, the neatness of the execution is immediately canceled out by the people it attracts. I am sort of a Coney Island person, in that I like quadriplegics that sell heroin out of their Mr. Softy truck, and I love freakshows and I like the idea that rockabilly has someplace to die.
But honestly, trying to find someone at the Mermaid parade is like looking for straw in a hypodermic needlestack. The people I managed to find instead were:
1. Bill and Rachel, who saw me get off the train and recognized me from the back because of my tattoo.
2. This chick Minna from high school.
3. California Jason
4. Some friends of an ex of an ex- which unfortunately, due to logistical error, doesn't make them friends of mine.
5. A homeless guy from Elizabeth street who told me to tie my shoes on Friday. Yeah, I am queen of the Hoborazzi, motherfuckers. He recognized me because of my tattoo. Then he took a picture of it. Didn't ask me for money, just wanted to let me know that..... I dunno, out of all the mean white girls in New York, my leg piece makes me stand out, I guess.
6. Ryan
7. Omar
8. Finally, FINALLY was able to find Jared. Did I mention that cell phone service doesn't work when a billion drunk people are trying to call each other within a two mile radius in CI? It was like a really festive 9/11.

So, Mermaid Parade. Shitshow, yeah? I spent the entire time trying to find some excuse for leaving. It was only after the 20th person stopped and told me I had great leg art that I realized the complete irony of the situation. In case you've forgotten what it looks like, I direct you here.
Delicious.