The universe was against us tonight: we get to Promdemonium and my photographer’s camera is out of battery.

The amazing soirée known for its extravagant costumes and makeup without a single photo? And since my son threw my BlackBerry into water yesterday, I couldn’t even use mobile.

Thankfully, a very agitated young man dressed elegantly in all black, including his big SLR, agreed to share his photos with me.

I wanted to ask people a very essential question: which one of these two animals would be a more badass gay icon, beavers or bears? But the music was so good and so loud that people either couldn’t hear me or I couldn’t stop dancing.

My favourite part was the washroom signs, which included the typical girl in a dress also sporting a tie and beside her, a boy in pants with a skirt pencilled over.

Tonight was the first night I peed in the same bathroom as a guy. This was also the first time in my life I told a man, “I’m sorry, I’ll look away. Oh my God, there’s a mirror. I’ll look on the floor, don’t worry.”

Since I was not the designated driver, I drank all my cash away . . . so that when we finally made our way out after a night of ridiculously crazy dancing, we had no money left to pay for parking. And the ATM was broken, so we had to fill out a special paper and give our licence plate to get out. We giggled a lot, from embarrassment.

What else? I found the badge of a NAC supervisor on the floor, but I won’t publically announce his name. You know who you are. I am sorry I will not be returning it — as creepy as this may sound, I will keep it and then one day I’ll throw it out. Nothing else I promise.

While all these funny things happened, I was overwhelmed by the liberating beauty of dancing among people who are gay, straight, bi, lesbian, dressed in strange and elaborate costumes, wearing really scary handmade masks or wrestlers’ leather masks, face-painted and everything in between.

It felt freeing to be myself among others. Way better than my first prom night, where I played the role of the princess, absorbed by what others may be thinking of me, neglecting myself in the process. Thank you, Promdemonium, for giving me this amazing second prom.