Thank God I survived another gay pride. It’s like surviving another tour of duty. It’s not the parade so much or the drugs or the alcohol. It’s the people. Oh Lord the people. If we really wanted to gain some respect from society at large and promote ourselves as positive contributors to society, we’d definitely do background checks on who we let in pride events. It’s basically like a juvenile detention center and a federal prison unlocked their doors and said, “Have at it.” I wasn’t armed, but I was flexing a lot, you know, to show people I got some pythons that escaped from the gun show.
Pride is trashy. Literally. After the parade there was trash piled up all along North Halstead. And I’m not talking about your normal quantities of street festival trash. I’m talking fuck-the-world kind of trash. It was as if it was the end of days and everyone just decided to let loose. Who cares about climate change when a meteor is rocketing toward your planet? Let’s throw all our soda cans and McDonalds bags in the street. And hey, later, we can roll around in them. Because we’re trashy. Super trashy.
Overall I was pretty disgusted, but not surprised, by my own kind. Oh sure, I’ve done some sleazy, trashy shit in my days. But it was always conducted in a dark basement of some bar’s back room. Not on the city street of Chicago for God’s sake. Get a room…at a bathhouse, you freak.
But I had a great time. Good food. Good friends. Good drinks. And most of all this: