It was colourful and loud and crowded.
I pushed through but could barely see the parade. I caught glimpses of brightly coloured headgear and surreal cardboard beasts between bobbing heads and hands holding mobiles as cameras. Occasionally a lorry would go past blasting out music that shook the earth.
I turned away, walking over crushed beer cans and soiled paper plates, past smoky stalls selling curious foods, past lines of policemen in day-glow jackets.
I dived into a crowd blocking the road, it jumped up and down to the speakers, twisted and turned to the music. The air was a thick mix of sweat, alcohol and pot. Half way through I came face to face with a young guy blocking my way.
"Smile," he shouted and offered me his beer.
I declined and he grabbed me and we danced a waltz.
"Smile," he shouted. "It's carnival...."
You know, sometimes, you just need to let go. I grabbed his beer, took a swig, then I smiled and danced a jig.
I just hope I don't catch some spit transmitted disease like elephantitis or leprosy.
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