Party, Party, Party

What does one do the day after hanging out with 2000 of your closest friends at a Gala, you ask? Well, if you're us, you go to three local parties, on your bicycles, and live to tell the tale.

We don't have any photos of the first party, although it was such fun. We were both still shell-shocked, I think, from the bizarro world that is Life in a Casino.

We had arrived at the Mohegan Sun, after all, at 5 on Saturday afternoon, and parked -- on purpose -- on the roof level of the parking garage. When we finally left at 10 on Sunday morning -- trousers and jackets and ties and dresses firmly packed inside our bags -- it had been 17 hours since we tasted the tiniest tidbit of real air. We burst through that door onto the roof of the garage and breathed oxygen into the very depths of our souls.

We rode home with every door and every sunroof open, our heads out the windows, gasping for breath.

So it took a while for the fresh air to hit our brains, and to start to take photos. Well, it took fresh air, and a couple of beers.

The second party was a Connecticut College graduation party, at our neighbors' house, and when we rode up on our bikes, this is what we saw:

I know! A grilled cheese truck! In the driveway!

Jelly Roll Alert

A grilled cheese truck in the driveway is like dying and going to heaven.

The party was filled with delightful peeps . . .

. . . especially this delightful peep . . .

. . . and we had a wonderful time.

Awww.

But we couldn't stay. No! We had places to go! More places to go.

And so we were off. Downtown New London is a ghost town on a Sunday afternoon in May, apparently.

Mistah did a great job taking photos whilst on his bike though . . .

. . . well, until the pretty girl got out of her car, then everything became slightly fuzzy.

Speaking of fuzzy . . .

Congrats! To our very own UConn Law School Grad! What a fabulous accomplishment, Victoria!

When I told someone about the, ahem, private party at the Tavern he asked, "So Peter had to turn away all the local drunks?" I answered, "Well, not all of them . . ."

And then, well, we caught the end of the daylight and headed home.

Mistah is ahead of me, and yet the photo is of me. And Mistah's left shoulder. Which means he held the camera over his left shoulder and took the shot. Which is awesome.

I am telling you people. The anecdote antidote to a night in a godforsaken, befuddling casino is a day out on the bikes, party-hopping, champagne-filled-backpack in place. It was a spectacular kick-off to the summer . . .

Where next?