What's worse than a bad hangover on a trip to see your parents?
Click Read More to find out.
After leaving McDonalds, I headed down the block to Ditmars Boulevard. When I got to the corner, I saw a police car slowly navigating the intersection of 31st Street and Ditmars Boulevard, lights flashing, bored cop at the wheel. What's this? I thought. Catholic Easter is over, and tomorrow is Palm Sunday for the Greeks, so...what the fuck?
Just behind the cop car, four children were holding a banner for the ICYP, which stands for Immaculate Conception Youth Program. I know this, because, as a child, I was forced to partake in their stupid sports-themed field trips to their shitty baseball field next to the poultry slaughter house and Con Ed power plant. Just the sound of those four letters brings horrific repressed memories to the surface. Memories of being alone, with no friends. Memories of bullies. Memories of unrequited love, believe it or not. (Up yours, Monica. I hope Ray gave you an STD.)
A good horror story needs screaming, right? So this sudden flood of nightmares came complete with about a thousand screaming children. Screaming, yelling, chanting, marching, out of control children. They were accompanied by parents pushing strollers. The mess went for blocks and blocks up Ditmars Boulevard.
It was the Million Brat March.
Terrified that this would block off the street for hours, I bolted down the block, bag of Egg McMuffins flapping next to me. I must have looked incredibly stupid, but I didn't care. I could just imagine the scuffle as I tried to cross through the crowd, or being stopped by some stubborn old man telling me, "Now, now, let the children pass," as my food got cold and my temper grew hot.
I outran the slow moving procession and crossed the street. Relieved, I shook my head and continued on. Go back to bed, assholes. Then I remembered that I had my camera. I had a surge of adrenaline as I clumsily fished through my backpack to find it and pull it out of its ill-fitting case. Again, I must have looked so stupid.
These pictures will properly convey the horror, I thought.
I had to stop after two pictures, knowing full well that some crazy parent might start screaming at me and accusing me of being a pedophile. It's way to early to get arrested on false charges.
When I got home, I looked at the pics and was disappointed. Instead of the noisy, never ending