So, PrideFest was just as much fun as I hoped. We ended up with a much bigger group than I was originally expecting. Siris, his roomie, a friend of his roomie, Siris’s sister, and a friend of hers, and myself, were together for most of the day, and a guy Siris has been dating ran into us and hung out for a while before wandering off. I’m on the far right in the photo.
I was going to wear a goth-ish outfit, but when I looked outside and found it almost 90 (Fahrenheit) outside at 8:45 AM, I opted for light blue and white instead of black. Plus, that shirt is awesome. It says “I Am New Media and I Will Destroy You!” Then it has a bunch of different new media terms scattered across the front, like “Blogs,” and “Web 2.0″ and “Social Networking.” It’s one of my favorites, but for some reason (cough bra shows through cough) my SO keeps telling me I shouldn’t wear it to work. I work in new media, come on, they would appreciate it!
Anyway, we watched the parade from a prime spot right next to the protesters. That’s always the best place to stand, because the cheering is loudest there, and the people on the floats get a little extra-rowdy as they go by the would-be wet blankets waving their signs. The same church protests the parade every year. It seems they object to it going right outside their front door. I wanted a picture with the guy with a ”Homosexuals are filthy perverts!” sign, but Siris (MEANIE) wouldn’t take one on the grounds that, if there was a riot, he didn’t want to be blamed for starting it. I’ll spare you my dirty jokes about another protest sign, which read, “Homosexuals Have a Choice.”
Then we braved the crowds to wander through the festival and shop, try free samples, dance, take in some performers on the main stage, and, apparently, meet every single person Siris has ever met, ever. I mean, seriously! We couldn’t get more than 10 feet without someone yelling, “Siris! Over here!”
We escaped the craziness (and the sky-high festival food prices) and headed to the 16th Street Mall for lunch:
Then back to the festival for some more running into Siris’s friends, dancing, performers, and shopping. I met lots of cool people, and one cool bird. She’s a Swainson’s Hawk, and she’s a permanent resident at the Raptor Education Center because of a broken wing that didn’t heal fully:
By the time we finally headed back to the car, which was about two miles away (the closest spot we could find), we were exhausted.
On the walk back to my car, a chef taking a break from working at a bar noticed my rainbow lei and pink pride beads and asked if he could have them. We were already quite a ways away from the festival, and not in a neighborhood where I’d expect someone to want pride beads, so the request was just so amusing that I had to agree. The chef thanked me and went back in to work in the seedy dive bar, wearing my lei and beads.
I finally got home, in plenty of time to play with my dog for a while and shower before a 7:00 dinner date with my SO. I got the frisbee for a game of fetch, and after a few tosses, leaned down to pick it up, jumped back up, and knocked my head on a tree branch. I could feel a dent in the top of my head, and my ears were ringing. My neighbor, a nurse, was outside, and immediately asked me all the questions you’re supposed to ask someone who’s hit their head.
“What day is it?”
“Sunday.”
“What month is it?”
“June.”
“What’s your name?”
“Saydrah.”
“Who’s the President of the United States?”
“Hitler.“
Wait…. what?
After a couple of seconds, I corrected myself: “No, wait, that’s not right… it’s Bush, right?”
The Nurse Neighbor told me I had a mild concussion, and to go sit quietly without falling asleep, and hold an ice pack to my head. She offered to take me to the hospital, but I declined– a hospital? For a mild concussion? No way. Nurse Neighbor made me promise that someone would come look after me to make sure I didn’t fall asleep, so I called the SO.
He canceled our dinner reservations and came to sit with me. After a while, I felt well enough to take a cool shower, which helped my dizziness and throbby head. We ended up going to the restaurant after all, at more like 8:30, and have a lovely dinner.
So, it’s official: Pride may not cometh before a fall, but Pride cometh before a concussion!
