So, I went to the gay pride parade in San Francisco and it was pretty fucking fantastic.
I've been to gay pride parades on the East Coast, and while I was never entirely unimpressed by the spectacle of it all, I always felt like a bystander. A mere observer. Someone who is not allowed to truly take part in all the glittering festivities because I, myself, do not identify as gay. I have often found myself wishing there was a holiday in which heterosexuals were allowed to parade through the streets wearing nothing but a sparkly g-string. (and trust me, I get it. In our culture everyday is a celebration of heterosexuality. I just wanna wear the damn g-string!)
Prior to this event, all my friends assured me that it would in fact, be entirely acceptable for me to walk around in a sparkly g-string. I was planning to go all crazy with my outfit, constructing some elaborate costume-thing. But then I went to this party on Friday night and ended up spending Saturday throwing up and eating chocolate sorbet and burnt caramel ice cream from
ici in an attempt to cure my hangover and I woke up on Sunday with nothing planned, or even laundered for that matter. So, I threw on some jeans and a fancy halter, hopped on BART (which was swarming with folks in rainbow tutus) and set off to meet my friends at Oona's office, which is three stories up and has floor to ceiling windows. Straight VIP status, I tell you!
From the second I got off the train, I could tell this was a different scene than I was used to. I swear to god, it felt like everyone in the entire city had shown up to watch this thing. I don't know how to say this without being totally cheesy, but I found it
tender, heartwarming, touching that an entire city would show up to honor gay pride. Not to hate on my hometown, but where I'm from, there are people who wouldn't go to a gay pride parade if you paid them. Pathetic, I know. To most folks from the Bay Area, I imagine that it's no surprise to see their community united this way. It's a well known fact that San Francisco is a notoriously accepting city, not only of gays, but of people from all different walks of life. Still, to me it was really special to know that a place exists where being gay (or a sex-worker, or a radical, pagan feminist, etc.) is not only allowed, it's simply not a big deal. I got hollered at by mad straight dudes who showed up for gay pride and no matter how annoying it may have been (I had one dude scream down the street at me “Girrrl, you got a fattyyy!!”) that's actually kind of cool when you think about it.
Plus, the parade was breathtaking:
So, yeah, I was getting all emotional, not to mention tipsy and feeling so damn warm and fuzzy that I failed to notice I was missing THE BACKSTREET BOYS!!!!!! They played a set after the parade and I was too busy holding hands with my girlfriends and crying happy tears into my gin and tonic to realize what the fuck was going on. The shame! The horror!
After I finally recovered from that massive heartbreak (2 seconds later), we decided to walk down to the castro, where, sure as shit, everyone was still out and about celebratin'. Oh, except for this chick:
We started talking to her because Oona wanted to adopt her cat, but unlike most of the people you encounter posted up on city sidewalks, this woman was actually making sense. She told us this story, how she came from a small town in Ohio and couldn't wait to get out, how she was young and wild and having the time of her life in good old SF, and then, how she found she had HIV and her life fell apart. The saddest thing about her story was the earnestness with which she described attempting to get government assistance and then realizing that all the money that is supposed to be helping people like her is actually being embezzled by fat cat politicians who are using it as a means to their own end. I can't guarantee that she isn't full of shit or batshit crazy, but it was a good reminder that if you're donating to charity and you don't fully research or understand the causes you're donating to, you may as well be throwing your money in the trash for all the good it's doing.
This chick is like, 60 years old and has been living with AIDS for years now. Can you imagine how beautiful she must've been when she was younger? And the whole bit about being from a small town and moving to San Francisco and loving it? That could've been me! Seriously people, if you're shelling out money to some random charity just so you can feel like you're doing something good, please stop. Find a legit program that's actually out there helping real people.
After all that heavy shit (plus a failed attempt at using a public bathroom) we were in desperate need of a drink. We found this place that basically looked like a swanky hall of mirrors and settled in with some dark and stormys
I took random photos in the bathroom.
Then we took off to another bar, where we engaged in more debauchery.
This is where things start to get a bit blurry. Drunk drama, an insufferably long wait for the BART, I may have even eaten mcdonald's (ugh). Still, it was all so fucking worth it. I might not be gay, but when it comes to being part of a community that knows how to unite and truly go wild in celebration of our differences, I'm totally fucking proud.
love always
Unfortunately, the colors didn't come out the way I had hoped, but I promise you, it was the mintiest mint I've ever seen!
When the sun came up in the morning, Scarlet and I were still awake watching creepy videos like this one.
We sat on top of this cliff and watched the fireworks explode over the water. It was dark out and the waves were crashing over all these dark, jagged looking rocks. It was one of those moments where it's so pretty you wish you could share it with everyone, so you sit there clicking the shutter on your camera, attempting to record it somehow, but eventually you just give up because you know it'll never look as beautiful as it did in person.
We stayed up drinking, yet again, until the wee hours of the morning, and by the time I got on the plane on Monday morning I was in this bizarre, slightly blissful half hungover state that lasted a good twenty four hours. I guess that's how you know you've had a vacation, right?
