You know it’s gonna be a rough one when your mate hands you a stiff Bloody Mary at 10:30 am and receives a call from a girl he can’t remember kissing from the night before offering everybody a ride to what’s guaranteed to be a big piss up weekend. Such it was lying around on the benches at Finn McCool’s last Sunday. Each one was shaking off his own personal hangover from a kickoff Saturday night to the Carnaval weekend. Tate, myself and Kevin were tearing into Bacon breakfast sandwiches and prepping ourselves for the sure to be rattling heavy traffic laden bus ride to Ibarra, our jumping off point to the famed Carnaval party in the Chota Valley.
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