Tabatha Deans

Bringing Integrity to the Written Word

It was time again for the annual Pridefest, a weekend-long festival that celebrates diversity—specifically gay, lesbian, bi-sexual and transgender pride. My neighborhood, and all of downtown, is transformed into one big party, with streets being closed, tents erected, and everything/everyone being covered in rainbow flags, clothes, bikes, and even dogs. I stopped by the $1.35 scoop Chinese restaurant and got an order to go, then plopped myself down in the shade at Civic Center Park in front of the vodka stage, to watch the excitement.
The vodka stage resembles an S&M club, as scantily clad dancers, this year in leather harnesses, gyrate and grind upon each other and the instruments. The music is loud and makes you want to move, resulting in a dancing crowd. There were all manner of costumes on display, some favorites being assless chaps, rainbow jock straps, pink furry boots and a few Superheros. I finished my cheap Chinese fare and joined the crowd, bouncing to the music and working up a sweat. Suddenly, a young man, probably in his mid-twenties, turned around, grabbed my hand and started dancing with me.
“Oh, pretty lady. Let me dance with you.” There was something adorable about the way he said pretty lady. So I kept dancing with him. He had lost his people, and like many of the festival-goers was more than a little high and well on his way to being drunk. But dancing in the heat and sweating seemed to keep everyone from getting too drunk and passing out. We danced until the festival started to close down, his name was Ramsey and had no idea where his boyfriend and their friends were. We followed the crowd out the gate, and it turns out he didn’t live too far from me. We walked to the liquor store a block away from my house, bought some wine and sat on my porch while he continued calling his friends. They weren’t answering the phone, and I was concerned they’d ditched him. He was such a sweet boy, and I must admit the “pretty lady” thing was flattering.
So we drank wine and chatted with each other and others passing by, and maybe we had a mutual harassment going on with the people on the patio at Hamburger Mary’s. I drank too much wine of course, but sitting on the porch, with my new friend, really made me feel like home. Like a scene out of the storybook of my life, it was really a picture-perfect afternoon.

June 19, 2012 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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