Pride-A-Palooza

And Let’s Not Forget About This…

Every year I go directly to the back of my closet and dig up the most obnoxiously bright and festive thing I can find, dust off my feather boa, sharpen my eyeliner, and apply more glitter than a girl could dream of. I wake up at the ass crack of dawn and begin the process of binge drinking and morphing into a beautiful drag queen. This time of year is known as Chicago’s very own Gay Pride Festival. It is typically 100 degrees and there are what feels like 2 million people cooking in the narrow streets of Boystown, all trying to catch a glimpse of the dancing queens. For those of you that have been, you know that it’s a whole different world, and once you cross Clark Street there is absolutely no going back. All the streets are shut down and the only way to get across is by having all the gays huddle up to catapult your body across one of the parade floats, hoping to catch some ass mid-flight. Just picture thousands of people grinding in the streets, strangers hugging strangers, and expect to be told how beautiful you are all day long. From a bird’s eye view it looks like a giant glittery rainbow farted on the North side of town.

I have had my face painted by a lesbian clown, have earned my body weight in dick-shaped beads, sought out and kissed the one and only straight man in the bunch, and have been groped by the best of ‘em. One year I even ran into an unexpected guest on the train. I was sitting with my 3 best girlfriends and minding my own while taking pulls out of a bottle of Wolfschmidt vodka, when suddenly I was slapped upside the head. Ready to turn around and verbally assault someone’s face, I heard “What the hell are you doing here lady!?”(in a smokers voice so deep that she woke up her own cat 50 miles away.) HOLY SHIT! HEY GRANNY!!! I’m going to Gay Pride, what about you?! She roared back, ME TOO!! We clinked vodka’s and high-fived so fiercely that everyone around us now knew we were pre-gaming family style on the 8 AM train.

With all of that being said, there is still one particular year that stands out above all the rest. I decided to bring my friend who was about to pop her Gay Pride Parade cherry. Not really knowing what she was in for, she had the right attitude going into things: A non-judgmental mind and a liver that was open for business. We drank our way into the homosexual chaos and loved every minute of it. We saw the dykes on bikes, approximately 300 sweaty nut sacks, and a variety of questionable characters. Mission accomplished. When the parade came to and end, there was nothing left but mounds of garbage littering the streets and thousands of drunk people doing somersaults through it. We had seen enough and were ready to take the party back to our hometown dive bar where we felt safe and secure in case one of us decided to nap on a stool  Wiping the glitter out of our tear ducts, we attempted to hail a cab. After 45 minutes of walking in the blistering heat and knowing that we had approximately 20 minutes to catch our train, we clunked our dome pieces together and thought up a brilliant plan.

From a distance we spotted a strapping young Hindu that just so happened to be driving an ice cream truck. At this point it was so hot out that I was running a sweat shop between my boobs and this ice cream truck could have been a mirage. Strutting our boiling bodies towards him we were now in 100% prostitute mode. I was completely over walking and we knew if we had any chances of catching that train, our new friend Gudakeysha was our only hope. Two Dora the Explora’s and a Choco Taco later we had finally convinced our main man Ke$ha to take us for a ride. My friend jumped in the passenger seat and without hesitation I opened the gate to the back and made myself right at home next to all the freezer compartments. It was all of 38 seconds before I had my body hanging out of the little window and was chucking ice cream at anyone’s head that was covered in beads. I felt the need to tell every homosexual how fabulous they looked and that the ice cream cone that was coming 40 mph at their face WAS ON ME! You’re welcome! Guda was begging for me to stop throwing away all of his frozen treats free of charge and to please put things back the way they were. Snoopy’s were mixed in with Incredible Hulks and Ninja Turtles were now sharing a bin with the Sponge Bob’s but I didn't care. His shit was a mess, and it was all thanks to me. I yelled back at him, HEY LISTEN GUDAKEYSHA! DON’T EVER TRUST A DRUNK GIRL WITH YOUR DAIRY BRO!! He agreed with me as we pulled up to our destination. Feeling bad about almost ruining all my fun, we hugged it out and he offered up a snow cone on the house as a peace offering. We politely declined and sprinted up the ramp only to find that he had taken us to the wrong station. Son of a Hindu! We missed our train!

With 2 hours to kill until our next ride rolled through, we decided to hit the streets for a cold brew. On our way we met a nice lesbian couple that we learned had been hitched for over 14 years. It was no secret that they were into us and offered to buy as a drink while we waited for our train. One beer quickly turned into a barrel and the next thing you know we were all dancing to Michael Jackson’s Greatest Hits. (Side note: This was right after Michael hit the pavement so we had the entire establishment in tears and up on their feet honoring all of the King of Pop’s best moves -including the bartender). What started out to be an innocent cocktail turned into us unraveling 14 years of marriage simply by smelling of sweet summer corn and knowing all the words to Man In The Mirror. I admit I did notice wife # 1 undressing us with her eyes but thought nothing of it as I continued to raise my arms perfecting the“Thriller” choreography. How sexy could dancing zombies in bloody stitches really be? Well, wife #2 did not appreciate our grace and taught arm movements either and shit got really awkward as she called wife #1 out on all the inappropriate gestures that were directed towards us young fawns. My friend and I found this to be the perfect opportunity to bolt- Well, look at the time!? Ladies, it has been a pleasure and thank you so much for the dance. As the one licked her lips, I grabbed my friends hand, covered her eyes, and sprinted towards the train station. We made it just in the butch of time, and couldn't wait to get back to share our scandalous voyage as homosexuals.

Cheers to Hot Fudge Hitch Hiking  and Butch Break Ups,  

Ti-Bag