More nuts than a bag of nuts.
Day 28

It's impossible to accurately describe the sheer insanity that is the Fete de Bayonne. You really do have to see it. But I'd say this picture pretty much describes it.

Ryan, Mikey, Alexander, John-Laurent; we're all Americans by birth, so we knew it was important that we represent our country in true form. We had our uniforms. We had our bottles of booze strapped like weapons across our chests. We were going to battle. Our enemy: sobriety. And he was going down.

The first thing you notice upon arriving at the Fete is the lack of rhyme or reason to anything. We jumped right into the heat of it. In war it's important to deliver the first blow quickly so the enemy knows you mean business. After a few swigs from our shoulder-strapped bottles, Alexander and I "mailmanned" some beer. Things get a little hazy from here on...

(The following takes place between 11pm and 6am.)

Some poor sucker asked us for a drink from our bottles. Mikey obliged and shoved the bottle of Ricard to his mouth. Ryan gave him a bit too. Then Alexander felt generous as well. "Merci," he muttered with a thumbs up before stumbling away, his mouth and shirt now soaked in Ricard.

Standing on top of a mailbox, two dudes danced and gave the crowd a striptease. With his pants at his feet, one of the guys laughed and sang with his fans. Then someone stole his pants. Undeterred, he kept on dancing.

Out of nowhere, my father appeared from the crowd to share a drink with us. Then he left.

In some back alley, we yelled along with some invisible radio blaring Rage Against the Machine's "Killing in the Name." Somewhere in all that we met Dimitri, a Frenchman by way of Russia. We followed him to find his friend at a bar. His friend wasn't there, but we all got some beer and split.

Bathrooms are everywhere at the Fete de Bayonne, just pick one and let go.

Love and friendship.

The four of us danced, screamed, jumped, pushed and shoved for an hour and a half on one of the many dance floors. Mikey head butt someone by accident.

At 4am, Alexander suggested we try the carnival rides. To say it was a bit disorienting would be a big understatement. Ryan held on for dear life. Mikey screamed nonstop. I concentrated on keeping the wine and beer in my stomach. Alexander took it all in stride.

With less than 20 euros between us, we pooled our money so Alexander could buy a merguez sausage to split. None of us got a single bite and he passed out afterward.

We struggled onto the 5am bus and passed out. I woke up less than an hour later to find the entire bus empty. "When do we get to Hossegor?" I yelled to the bus driver. "We already passed it," he replied.

The driver turned that bus around however, and we made it back home at 6:30am. By the end of it all I had lost my glasses, Alexander lost a shoe, and we all lost some brain cells.

The next morning...

Last but not least... My wicked fine photoshop skillz!!!1!

-John-Laurent