'Big 50' Bash - The Finale

    There’s no need to describe the state we’re in this morning, If you’ve read the first three posts of this story, then I’m sure you can guess, although one of our crew said it perfectly:

    “There’s too much blood in my alcohol system, and it’s making me feel weird”. Yep, that covers it.

    But we’ve done it! We’ve pushed ourselves to our middle-aged limit, and perhaps a bit beyond, and now the finish line is mere hours away. This was the mission wasn’t it? The plan. The intended journey. The opportunity to ask and perhaps have answered, is 50 really the new 30? 

    The jury is still out on that.

    On another note, one of you who’s been reading this asked me who the vampires might be. The ones referenced above the door that first night.

    It was a good question. Could the monks (the ones who may or may not be monks), possibly be the vampires? Is that why the odd guy gave me a knowing nod, because I was wearing the monk bracelet from San Francisco? Did that save our lives?

    Or was it Alaska Crazy? We never did find out where she was staying… perhaps it was at 433 Bourbon Street.

    Or was it the hustlers, the working girls, and the gunmen. Was it just the gritty underside of the city?

    Or was it us. The tourists. The masses of American suburbanites. And if that's so, are the doors through which we pass nothing more than our experience there? Our foray into a place that is exotically unfamiliar, where by our very presence we dilute its mystery and history and richness? 

    Maybe.

    But I prefer to think it meant actual vampires, passing through those actual doors. 

    Time to go home. I expect I'll spend the next few days in a hammock, resting in the shade of a rehab center.

~ZMF