![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Pride, or, How To Herd Cats
Jul. 26th, 2005 10:36 amPride was awesome. I regret somewhat having not been able to see all the floats and displays, but I must say that dancing non-stop for two hours and riding the crowd's energy was like nothing I've ever done before. I am so going back next year if I'm in a position to do so.
Yesterday I learned that trying to organize sixty-odd gay people into a functioning group is a lot like herding cats. First, you have to take into account GST (Gay Standard Time) which means add on twenty minutes to whatever activity you're planning, and multiply that exponentially as your group gets bigger (the parade itself started something like half an hour late).
Of course finishing work at 5:00 meant that I spent all of last night running around like a headless chicken, trying to get changed, get to the parade, and snatch something to eat in the interim. I barely had time for the latter, but made a point of eating because I didn't particularly feel like passing out in the middle of one of the dances. It would have looked really stupid, not to mention left my dance partner in the lurch, and of course, I would have missed the parade.
Speaking of my dance partner, he was ten minutes late, which meant that he arrived twenty-five minutes after everyone else did (no matter what you say about the whole late start thing, almost everyone was there ahead of schedule. It was just like trying to get molasses moving uphill on a cold day).
We loitered and milled about for almost an hour before we even got close to being in position for the dance, and chatted and kibbitzed and practised one last time before lining up behind our truck. The jokes flew thick and fast, people shouted and whooped and flirted with the other groups who were also milling about waiting for instructions. A man raced around in one of those small street-cleaner cars, the ones that have a giant hose stuck on their end, making them look like a very weird futuristic impression of an elephant rendered by someone who's never seen an elephant in his life but was told once that they have a trunk. No one was very impressed, as all the guy was doing was spewing dust everywhere.
Still, everyone was in high spirits, and we had a great deal of fun when the Gay Autochtone society wandered by. I mean, there we were, in our jeans and cowboy hats, and there were "Injuns." Couldn't have been better. We danced, they mock-whooped, and more jokes flew around like plastic bags in a shopping mall parking lot. Much random silliness.
We danced in a circle for a while, since the parade wasn't going anywhere. We had the CIBC float right behind us for a while, although I'll admit I didn't even notice whether they were still in that position when the parade got underway. It was either them or Feygeleh, the Jewish GLBT group that was also nearby. Best poster of the day was theirs, I think: "I had to come out of the closet: my mother needed the space."
Finally, the whole shebang got moving, and after a few minutes of dancing almost by ourselves, we suddenly found ourselves in the midst of a teeming, cheering throng. The energy last night was electrifying. I've attended Pride the past few years, and the energy that you feel as a spectator is nothing compared to the experience of actually being in the parade itself. People screamed themselves hoarse every time the Shania Twain song we'd picked came on. They clapped and stamped and yelled and whistled, and somehow, even though we ran out of water and the end of the parade was rushed (we had to take it at a run instead of dancing), it was more exhilarating than I could ever express.
There were some low-ish points, I must say. My partner, for one, didn't seem to understand the concept of not wrenching my shoulder from its socket, and kept poking me because the people in our row were falling behind and he didn't want me to get too far ahead (never mind that I was perfectly aware of this anyway). The poking wouldn't have been so bad, except that his fingernails were sharp, and he kept scratching me. Enh. Whatever. It didn't mar my experience, so I won't dwell on it more than I have to.
Met up with some Bolo people who hadn't taken part in the Parade once it was over, and then about half of us staggered back to the club to get some water and decompress. Everyone was in very good spirits, and moaning good-naturedly about how they never, ever wanted to hear "Passadena" ever again. One of our older members, who wasn't dancing but was walking in the parade with us, had an unfortunate accident because the one restaurant that let her inside didn't have a working toilet, which was really too bad. It was supposed to be a good evening for her, and I can't imagine that having wet pants made it fun. She still seemed to be in good form, and people either didn't mention it or made light of it. It's fairly common knowledge that she doesn't have a strong bladder due to an operation she had a while back. The sad part is that this means she probably won't be in the parade next year, although her husband said he would be (yes, they're our token straight couple).
Anyway, after downing another litre or two of water (no, I'm not exaggerating), I eventually staggered to my feet and went home. The main problem with having the parade on a Monday night is this whole work-in-the-morning deal. Frankly, I might have asked for today off if L hadn't already reserved today herself. I have no idea what she's up to, but it's just me all by my lonesome all day.
I was too wired to go to sleep right away (*sigh*), so I read for a while and tormented the cats, and eventually fell into a restless sleep at about 1am. Woke up every two hours after that until 6:30 when I got up to go to work.
Somehow, everything today feels anticlimactic.
Yesterday I learned that trying to organize sixty-odd gay people into a functioning group is a lot like herding cats. First, you have to take into account GST (Gay Standard Time) which means add on twenty minutes to whatever activity you're planning, and multiply that exponentially as your group gets bigger (the parade itself started something like half an hour late).
Of course finishing work at 5:00 meant that I spent all of last night running around like a headless chicken, trying to get changed, get to the parade, and snatch something to eat in the interim. I barely had time for the latter, but made a point of eating because I didn't particularly feel like passing out in the middle of one of the dances. It would have looked really stupid, not to mention left my dance partner in the lurch, and of course, I would have missed the parade.
Speaking of my dance partner, he was ten minutes late, which meant that he arrived twenty-five minutes after everyone else did (no matter what you say about the whole late start thing, almost everyone was there ahead of schedule. It was just like trying to get molasses moving uphill on a cold day).
We loitered and milled about for almost an hour before we even got close to being in position for the dance, and chatted and kibbitzed and practised one last time before lining up behind our truck. The jokes flew thick and fast, people shouted and whooped and flirted with the other groups who were also milling about waiting for instructions. A man raced around in one of those small street-cleaner cars, the ones that have a giant hose stuck on their end, making them look like a very weird futuristic impression of an elephant rendered by someone who's never seen an elephant in his life but was told once that they have a trunk. No one was very impressed, as all the guy was doing was spewing dust everywhere.
Still, everyone was in high spirits, and we had a great deal of fun when the Gay Autochtone society wandered by. I mean, there we were, in our jeans and cowboy hats, and there were "Injuns." Couldn't have been better. We danced, they mock-whooped, and more jokes flew around like plastic bags in a shopping mall parking lot. Much random silliness.
We danced in a circle for a while, since the parade wasn't going anywhere. We had the CIBC float right behind us for a while, although I'll admit I didn't even notice whether they were still in that position when the parade got underway. It was either them or Feygeleh, the Jewish GLBT group that was also nearby. Best poster of the day was theirs, I think: "I had to come out of the closet: my mother needed the space."
Finally, the whole shebang got moving, and after a few minutes of dancing almost by ourselves, we suddenly found ourselves in the midst of a teeming, cheering throng. The energy last night was electrifying. I've attended Pride the past few years, and the energy that you feel as a spectator is nothing compared to the experience of actually being in the parade itself. People screamed themselves hoarse every time the Shania Twain song we'd picked came on. They clapped and stamped and yelled and whistled, and somehow, even though we ran out of water and the end of the parade was rushed (we had to take it at a run instead of dancing), it was more exhilarating than I could ever express.
There were some low-ish points, I must say. My partner, for one, didn't seem to understand the concept of not wrenching my shoulder from its socket, and kept poking me because the people in our row were falling behind and he didn't want me to get too far ahead (never mind that I was perfectly aware of this anyway). The poking wouldn't have been so bad, except that his fingernails were sharp, and he kept scratching me. Enh. Whatever. It didn't mar my experience, so I won't dwell on it more than I have to.
Met up with some Bolo people who hadn't taken part in the Parade once it was over, and then about half of us staggered back to the club to get some water and decompress. Everyone was in very good spirits, and moaning good-naturedly about how they never, ever wanted to hear "Passadena" ever again. One of our older members, who wasn't dancing but was walking in the parade with us, had an unfortunate accident because the one restaurant that let her inside didn't have a working toilet, which was really too bad. It was supposed to be a good evening for her, and I can't imagine that having wet pants made it fun. She still seemed to be in good form, and people either didn't mention it or made light of it. It's fairly common knowledge that she doesn't have a strong bladder due to an operation she had a while back. The sad part is that this means she probably won't be in the parade next year, although her husband said he would be (yes, they're our token straight couple).
Anyway, after downing another litre or two of water (no, I'm not exaggerating), I eventually staggered to my feet and went home. The main problem with having the parade on a Monday night is this whole work-in-the-morning deal. Frankly, I might have asked for today off if L hadn't already reserved today herself. I have no idea what she's up to, but it's just me all by my lonesome all day.
I was too wired to go to sleep right away (*sigh*), so I read for a while and tormented the cats, and eventually fell into a restless sleep at about 1am. Woke up every two hours after that until 6:30 when I got up to go to work.
Somehow, everything today feels anticlimactic.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
