NYC Gay Pride 2008

So Sunday morning found me sleep-deprived and heading back up to midtown, determined not to arrive at the designated meeting spot late. I made it right on time and found that everyone was gathering just as I arrived. It was a big social scene in general, as all the other groups were also gathering members, making adjustments to costumes and vehicles and finishing preparations for the march. I watched a group of hot men that were marching with AMFAR as they received their T-Shirts. Scissors appeared as if by magic as sleeves were disdainfully removed and cast aside and shirts were cut to playfully peek-a-boo belly length. The whole operation took about 30 seconds. Gays.

We were a rag-tag group to be sure, wedged in a section with the better attended AMFAR and GMHC (And yes, more than one person noticed they seem to have an "AIDS section" for the march). But what we lacked in numbers we would surely, as I found out later, make up in energy and enthusiasm. For most of the morning we were within earshot of a Caribbean Pride group, and once we had the rickshaws decked out and the signs and banners distributed, we waited patiently for the parade to begin and danced in the hot noon sun to some killer Caribbean beats.

Once the parade actually began, it took about 1/2 hour before we rounded the corner and stepped on to 5th Avenue. Let me tell you, if you've never experienced it, the energy you get from the city and the tens of thousands of people lining the Avenue waiting is hard to describe. It's a palpable rush, and it was the first of many times I got a lump in my throat.



One of the highlights of the march came at the 2 pm mark. This is traditionally the Moment of Silence observed along the parade route for all the men, women and children that lost the battle and were taken away in the fight against HIV/AIDS. As a parade observer of many years, it was always a powerful moment. As a parade participant, alongside the members of SIN who still fight that fight every day in every way, it was almost overwhelming. We happened to be standing in the middle of 34th/5th avenue when the Moment of Silence was observed. And it truly seemed as if the entire city fell silent as everyone simply stopped, bowed our heads and reflected on our grief and resolve. I spent the next city block wiping away the tears that I couldn't stop. Afterward, the music returned, as it always does, the cheering resumed and if anything, the demeanor of the collective members of SIN seemed to be that we are alive, we are happy and we've come to party and take our place at the table. And that we did.






As big red rickshaws made ever more perilous circles around the group, and David L., Hector, and Anne Chilada ran screaming from side to side working an already enthusiastic crowd into a frenzy and showering them in candy, we were met with cheers and whistles and shouts of encouragement along the entire route.





We continued making our way down 5th Avenue, until around 19th street when we all started to notice the sky begin to visibly darken. Luckily for Miss Girl (below), she was already prepared in her bathing suit.



After a fantastic lightning bolt tore through the sky the rain finally began to pour down, and while some of the crowds on the street retreated under nearby awnings and scaffolding, many remained out in the storm. Like the good Gay Girl Scout I am, I remembered to check the weather the night before and tucked a 99 Cent Store rain poncho in one of my pockets. Great idea, but it did nothing to keep my socks and sneaks from being completely soaked through. Amazingly, in a phenomenon that seemed to emanate from within our group, every peal of lightning and crack of thunder was met by an equally aggressive roar of approval and howl of defiance. Seemingly, after all we have each been through in our struggle, a little violent rainstorm was simply another obstacle to shout down.

If there was a bright spot to the rain, many of the marchers (including some quite yummy SIN men) simply opted to strip down and enjoy the soaking. As everyone was now completely drenched and (not surprisingly) a little chilled, more than a few people (myself obviously included) noticed how downright nipple-y it had become.

By the time we headed towards the West Village, the rain finally stopped and the warming rays of sun returned. If people had left the parade route, you couldn't tell from here, as the narrow streets of the West Village let us all get up-close and personal with parade watchers and well-wishers. As I found all along the parade route, frequently all you needed do was point a camera to get a smile, a wave or a bulging ...err tricep.

We finally finished our march around 3:30 that afternoon and gathered again about a block away. Signs were discarded and banners were rolled up. Well-deserved rounds of applause went to David L., Anne Chilada (someone get her some new boots!) and the men who pulled those handy red rickshaws all the way down from 56th street (and one who carried his busted rickshaw, like a fallen soldier, back to the pedicab infirmary on the far west side). People started to head their separate ways, and I was in absolutely desperate need of some food, having skipped eating to get to the parade in the morning. Right before we broke up, David got everyone to pull up a rickshaw and pile on in for one last group photo. And there they are, a little tired and a lot happy. As was I. I headed off to the Pride Fest in search of something, at this point anything, to eat. I was pretty beat myself, but inside, I knew this was a NYC Gay Pride I will more than likely never forget.

(If you click on this particular image, you'll get an embiggened version of the group photo.)

And I thank you all for being there. It was truly special.