TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
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07.25.05, monday night
So dropped us off at the airport on Sunday at 6 friggin AM. Everyone stared, we wildeyed in the fanciest attire. Could you smell the many glasses of scotch on the rocks that we guzzled that night? the baby cupcakes or the post-post-wedding party pizza we consumed? A security guard searched my purse; he did not confiscate, thank god, the sword pin I had hidden in one pocket or another. Items noted: mushed-up sari, gold sandals, bridesmaid instructions, an eclectic collection of gembright bangles, lipstick, perfume, & slightly scandalous photobooth polaroids of some gorgeous ladies I'll never forget.