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You know you've had a good time when you're home before 1am blubbering about how much fun you had, how beautiful everyone was and how hung over you're going to be the following morning. Such was the case for yours truly recently after a good 12 hour stint of, well, enjoying myself. The event that inspired so many tears...and dead brain cells? The 22nd Annual Mermaid Parade. This event's genesis predates my arrival in New York City, but it has come to represent all that I treasure, personally, about living here. It embodies the stick-to-it-iveness of a tenacious community. It celebrates freaks and costumes and boobs and glitter. And it brings together just about everyone I want to see, all in one place, at one time, in the sunshine and at the beach. With beer!  For those of us living in The East Village, which was once a scary and spectacular place but has since been invaded by the khaki-clad masses, The Mermaid Parade approximates Avenue A and perhaps Ludlow Street a decade ago, picked up and plopped down on the boardwalk of Coney Island. It's a day when Astroland is overrun by tattooed hipsters with Manic Panic hair and seashell pasties and when refusing-to-age Gen Xers (and boomers?) converge on this seaside outpost, outnumbering the families, locals and immigrants with unnerving, invigorating results. For one day, it is a sunburned, sparkling nirvana.This year's parade starred former ink-errific catwalk queen and Lunachick babe Theo as Queen Mermaid and Moby as King Neptune. They purportedly reign in the judges' section and help choose the winners in a slew of categories, but anyone can be a judge - for a price. A price that was $100, last I heard. But why would you want to be up in the judges' section when you can be strolling down Surf Avenue with an army of cycling, spinning, sea creatures, disorganized drill teams, politically motivated costumed activists and every imaginable breed of flora, fauna and fabulous mermaid creation? There are flatbeds with rock bands, like this year's Banana Fish Zero. There are antique cars. People build floats and drive buses, pull wagons and push contraptions. But most importantly, this parade is for everyone. All you need to do is dress up and pay your $10 to officially participate. Or you can participate unofficially by jumping into the street to join the insanity. But the parade needs your money. So pay the man!  The best photo ops take place before the parade begins, as everyone lines up and ogles each other in the shadow of The Cyclone, one of America's oldest wooden roller coasters. Everyone is madly snapping pictures and complimenting each other on their ingenuity. One of this year's prizes went to My Big Fat Deep Sea Wedding, which was beautiful. Pink Inc. had the most amazing sea creatures. Every burlesque troupe showed up in full regalia, each with their own individual interpretation of mermaids. The Billionaires for Bush were pirates and wenches. The Hungry March Band was an army of golden Vikings and valkyries. I laughed at the Iron Mer-Maidens, who stopped occasionally to rock out and eat fire. The Red Hot Mermaids were dressed as sexy firewomen. But the photographers' favorite was definitely the mermaid trio with orange hair and fish bowl boobies, even if their fishes were only plastic. I don't know if their boobs were plastic, too; they were obscured by their fish bowls!Those on foot get to promenade on the boardwalk, which is lined with enthusiastic spectators smelling like booze and suntan lotion. It seems to take forever to get onto the street, where still more excited crowds cheer you on. Complete mayhem breaks out in front of the judges as everyone tries to curry favor for the coveted prizes by offering bribes and lap dances. And at the very end, the Coney Island Fire Department treats everyone to a cooling spray of water. Once the parade is over, everyone heads to Ruby's, an ancient oceanfront bar with the most horrifying bathrooms you've ever seen in your life. Fortunately, this year the renovated public facilities on the boardwalk were not only larger, they were accessible late into the afternoon, and the frighteningly long lines moved surprisingly fast. (Last year I almost got arrested for trying to use the men's room, which had no line. When you gotta pee, you gotta pee!)  There are a few musts, but I didn't get around to most of them this year. You should start the day with a hot dog and cheez fries from Nathan's and fortify yourself for your day of fun. At some point, ya gotta ride The Cyclone, preferably after you've had a few. Then maybe take a whirl on The Wonder Wheel, an enormous super-deluxe Ferris wheel. You should take a dip in the Atlantic, eat a corn dog and definitely drink too much. I took care of that last one NO problem!And all afternoon, you stand in the sun, kissing friends you don't see often enough, and shmoozing! Chet, love those diapers! You never change! The genius with the snow globe ensemble? Wasn't she the one with the amazing paint chip costume two years ago? Harlequinn! Are you an unrepentant goth mermaid? Pink Snow, are those pot leaf pasties? And my favorite costume, Wake-n-Bake Dave as the BEST pirate ever, with his girlfriend as his pot of sunken treasure, positively dazzling in gold body paint and glitter, which, I believe, gave Dave his authentic dusty pirate patina. This year, Dick Zigun, the man responsible for the parade, Sideshows by the Seashore and all the other stuff that brings the freaks to Coney, hosted a Mermaid Ball that began at 8pm. It wasn't really a ball, though I believe I HAD a ball. It was actually more, um, more drinking, in the outdoor garden of a Surf Avenue bar. There were performers...I recall seeing Jo Boobs twirling her tassels, but little else. Somewhere around 11pm or so I wound up on my way back into the city in a radio car. We were headed for The Pussycat Lounge and more drunken debauchery with Banana Fish Zero. I took a few photos but honestly can't recall being there. I must've decided I was way too smashed sometime in the midnight ballpark, because I arrived home a sweaty, sunburned, glittery, sobbing mess, blathering about how I miss having that much fun all the time. Man, I couldn't have that much fun all the time. It'd kill me. But once a year is perfect! Don't miss next year's Mermaid Parade. It always happens on the first Saturday of summer. See you in Coney Island!
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