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At the last minute, the Purdy Persian lent me her car to go to Pride celebrations in Snohomish, WA, a picturesque little town about an hour's drive from Seattle. I don't see eye to eye with her about everything, but I can't help but be impressed with her generosity. And she looks fabulous in a bright yellow maxi with matching lemon wedge handbag.
And why would I want to go to Snohomish Pride? Mainly because Taller Woman volunteered for it. She's undergoing treatment for cancer for the second time since I met her. I, well, figured it would be a Good Thing To Do. The hell of it is, I didn't tell her I was coming and she left early because the incision sites for her most recent surgery were hurting her. But hey, I was there.
And how was it? Well, it was small, naturally, but it was super mellow. Yes, the churchy types were there, but they weren't nearly as nasty as the ones you see in Seattle and I could count them on one hand. There were lots of kids walking around in their Pride colors. I talked to a lady wearing a dress made of banned book covers, and a trans person who'd come from Monroe.
Monroe, another small nearby town, reminds me: Monroe, Arlington, and now Snohomish have all had their first Pride in the last few years. That alone is cause for hope. The mellowness that I saw makes it even better.
One gripe: the parade was at 10:00 AM. Even if I hadn't been dependent on the grace of the Purdy Persian, I would have been loath to hit the road before 0900 on a Saturday. Seattle's parade officially starts at what, noon?
Would I go there again? Wayell, maybe if Taller Woman invited me again, but honestly, I love the big city Pride vibe. We tried to make plans for the day before Pride in Seattle, but our schedules clashed yet again. Rats.
I went to Substation for a hippie ravey night. The bartender told me they'd gotten rid of a bunch of practice spaces to make room for more performance space. I... don't feel good about that. The music? Not bad; it was the Psy Ops crew. But I bus-and-trained it over to the Mercury to get my social on. I gotta love a chat in the alley with a young woman wearing a pig snout. The symbolism was not lost on me.
Was I hoping to see a certain burlesque dancer? Is the pope Catholic? Did I? No. I shall try again later.
And why would I want to go to Snohomish Pride? Mainly because Taller Woman volunteered for it. She's undergoing treatment for cancer for the second time since I met her. I, well, figured it would be a Good Thing To Do. The hell of it is, I didn't tell her I was coming and she left early because the incision sites for her most recent surgery were hurting her. But hey, I was there.
And how was it? Well, it was small, naturally, but it was super mellow. Yes, the churchy types were there, but they weren't nearly as nasty as the ones you see in Seattle and I could count them on one hand. There were lots of kids walking around in their Pride colors. I talked to a lady wearing a dress made of banned book covers, and a trans person who'd come from Monroe.
Monroe, another small nearby town, reminds me: Monroe, Arlington, and now Snohomish have all had their first Pride in the last few years. That alone is cause for hope. The mellowness that I saw makes it even better.
One gripe: the parade was at 10:00 AM. Even if I hadn't been dependent on the grace of the Purdy Persian, I would have been loath to hit the road before 0900 on a Saturday. Seattle's parade officially starts at what, noon?
Would I go there again? Wayell, maybe if Taller Woman invited me again, but honestly, I love the big city Pride vibe. We tried to make plans for the day before Pride in Seattle, but our schedules clashed yet again. Rats.
I went to Substation for a hippie ravey night. The bartender told me they'd gotten rid of a bunch of practice spaces to make room for more performance space. I... don't feel good about that. The music? Not bad; it was the Psy Ops crew. But I bus-and-trained it over to the Mercury to get my social on. I gotta love a chat in the alley with a young woman wearing a pig snout. The symbolism was not lost on me.
Was I hoping to see a certain burlesque dancer? Is the pope Catholic? Did I? No. I shall try again later.
