The misty morning gave way to a just-right Fall day. I left around three o'clock, just before everyone's booze kicks in and tipsy turns to topsy. I'm learning, slowly, the art of moderation in the midst of excess.
I spent most of my time along 10th Street admiring the gogo dancers on their plinths. Saint Joseph's Church, long abandoned, is an aptly devout backdrop to a festival that celebrates the male physique and the spectrum of des relations sexuelles avec accoutrement.