My Pride Flag on 5th Avenue.
Today was one of the best Pride Days I've had in a while. Not only did I actually go to the parade, I marched it.
I got a text from Tristian this morning asking me to watch the parade with him. At the time I was undecided if wanted to join up with Dykes on Bicycles and ride in the parade (not to be confused with Dykes on Bikes) or find a skateboarding group, but I ditched both those ideas.
I met up with Tristian. Both of us were under the impression that Jose was somewhere down the route with his buddies. So, we headed downtown to find them. The sidewalk was packed with onlookers, merchants with gay accoutrements and tourists trying to enter the Empire State Building. So, we simply climbed over the barricade and stowed away with LGBT Families for Immigration Reform group. I bought a rainbow flag for $1. Tristian bought a rainbow Mohawk wig for $10. We fitted right in.
Tristian dancing.
By the time we approached the end, deep in the heart of the West Village, neither of us had heard back from Jose. We walked through the street fair where I found empanadas, then stopped in the nearest and emptiest bar for a drink. We were both about to part ways and go home when Jose called.
As it turned out, he was not at the parade at all. He had just come from the E train having transferred from the 6 train after a passenger attempted suicide. The story goes, that the guy began to jump in front of the oncoming train, but some other guy pulled him back and then punched him in the face. Then, a seemingly sweet little old lady said bluntly, "If he wanted to kill himself, why didn't he just jump off a building?" Even Jose was taken back. Then he told her "But that would have created traffic."
Jose still had to met up with his buddies, the drag queen and the muscle guy. We found them, but they where on their way home to dress up for an extremely expensive pier party. The three of us went to GYM, a gay bar which I believe is called "GYM" because it was filled with lots sweaty men. I lasted about 5 minutes before leaving to find an empanada restaurant. I was just really craving empanadas today.
We lost Tristian to prior engagements. I decided to try out the Cubby Hole. It's no secret that I hate lesbian bars, but it was Pride Day, so the internal pressure for just "making an effort" had drove me to...well, get it over with. The line was out the door and around the corner. No. No. I know the experience of standing in illegal sized crowds, not able to reach the bar and losing all personal space, looking at the backs of heads and shoulders while your friend asks if you see any cute girls. In fact I had just experienced it at GYM, with sweaty men and not cute or annoying girls. Yeah, I said that I find most girls annoying.
Jose with the flag he wanted to sell.
Jose and I ended up at an Irish Pub where the Yankees played the Mets on all tvs, the Guinness was poured perfectly and free karaoke. I sang two songs. It wasn't exactly the type of place he wanted to be, but it was subdued enough for me. They also severed free hot dogs, which Jose loved.
We went to one other place afterwards that promised good music and an open bar, but it turned out to be a pretentious waste of time. Then it was close to 11pm and I had to head home. Jose went to the East Village. I hope had a good time there.
So, that was my Pride Day.
