Carnevale '08: Countdown to Carnevalemageddon!

So, that whole thing where I told you, my trusting readers, that the Internet was fixed and everything was back to normal? Yeah, not so much. It died immediately after that post, and now it's still gone. I asked the IT department to come fix it and they said they would this morning. It's 6 PM now. Hmm.

But that won't stop me from bringing you the sexotic phantasmagoria of this year's Carnevale festivale, held in beautiful Bellinzona, Switzerland, and attended by yours truly, and also me.

Carnevale, for those not "in the know," or even anywhere near the know, is basically the non-union equivalent of Mardi Gras. Mardi Gras (from the French words for "drunk flashers") is the celebration of Shrove Tuesday, which is the day before Ash Wednesday, five days after Flange Thursday, and 200 years away from any religious significance. The practice, dating back, I dunno, a really long time, is a bacchanalian revel celebrating the last day before Lent. I suppose the idea is that you will wake up at the beginning of Lent so hung over that you swear off something manageable like bright light or loud noises, instead of a more rigorous challenge like avarice or envy.

The Carnevale near Franklin College, in Bellinzona, is a tradition among students here. In actuality, the festivities last for about five days BEFORE the actual day it's meant to celebrate, but who am I to judge? Maybe the scriptures actually say it's supposed to be Shrove Fivesday.

The elements of Carnevale are loud music, costumes, and being phenomenally drunk, not necessarily in that order. I'm proud to say that I at least attempted all of these three elements.

The adventure began at 7 PM, when I met with Christina, the girl who asked me to come with her.


Her costume is, according to her, the character of Death, from the Pardoner's Tale. My guess, "A nerd with a paper plate on her chest," is also a legitimate answer. I opted for the classic Halloween standby of "whatever I can find at the last minute," and went as:


The CEO of UnderpantsOnHeadCo., Inc. Shame? I have none.

Accompanying us was a diverse group of...three more lovely young ladies.

So YEAH. I considered myself a gentleman escort, although in reality if they weren't there to lead me around I'd no doubt have ended up hopelessly lost and freezing to death and vomited upon. Still, I think they appreciated having a male presence, considering that most other males at Carnevale were drunk Italian strangers.

Naturally, the drinking commenced at around 8, about an hour before we actually got to Carnevale. Considering that while inside the gates of Carnevale, 12 Swiss francs buys you approximately a Dixie cup full of beer, it's a must that you pre-party before entering. So really, the whole Carenvale experience boils down to getting drunk, getting on a train, going somewhere, getting MORE drunk, and then trying to find your way back. Needless to say, it's staggeringly popular.

So we departed, already well on the road to inebriation, and made our way to the train station and took off to Bellinzona. It was a half-hour train ride on a train packed with drunk teenagers, each of whom seemed to be taking each breath through a lit cigarette. Can't say I particularly enjoyed it, but the girls and I chatted and passed the time kicking empty wine bottles back and forth.

We got to Bellinzona, passed through the gates:

And got frisked, not to make sure we weren't bringing in bombs, but to make sure we weren't bringing in our own liquor. Right.

And so, we went off and danced. Yes. We danced, because we wanted to. We left our friends behind. 'Cause our friends didn't dance, and because they didn't dance, well, they're no friends of mine.


The blurriness in this photograph is a representation of the vision of most of the partygoers. Or maybe they watched the tape from The Ring. Or maybe one of them is a ghost. Look, I don't know.

Anyway, we had a lovely time dancing, wandering around, eating gyros, and more dancing. Oh, and we met Spock:

So a good time was had by all. I actually ended the evening disappointingly sober. I don't know why. I mean, I literally drank all my liquor and spent all my money on more liquor, but I still wasn't drunk. I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing, but at least it meant I had the presence of mind to take precious memory photos such as this:

If you look closely, you can identify a couple of humanoid figures as well as what seems to be a giant potato with a nose looming in the right half of the frame.

So in spite of my nontoxication, I had the time of my life. I mean, one man arm-in-arm with four beautiful, young, fairly drunk young women?

That's hard to beat.