Whose Side Are You On?

Of course it rained today. In the decade i've spent in Barcelona, it has never failed to rain on Carnaval weekend. Considering it's a holiday which, being tied to Easter, moves around the calendar, this is quite a feat. But it was inevitable. Even my shitty weather app, which is wrong enough of the time to completely distrust it but not enough to rely on it for consistently incorrect forecasts, warned me. The sky was filling up with threatening clouds so I decided to forgo my bike and take the subway to work.
We all know that the nineties are back. From rock to hip hop to fashion, the world is partying like it's 1994. Barcelona, being the bad fashion idea capital west of the Urals, reached into the same bag they pulled mullets and poopy pants from a decade ago and produced this.

Not pictured: the smell of stale beer and damp human

These specimens were sitting in the seats across from mine, ready for their Vice don't close-up. But before you assume I'm about to launch into a tirade about their obviously deeply flawed decision making process, take a quick look at this.

This was the woman sitting opposite me who wasn't even trying to hide the contemptuous gaze she would periodically cast their way, then look at me, one eyebrow slightly raised, in complicity. I smiled, amused that I have crossed a definite line in the one-of-us camps that generations have drawn.