“Originally this was an alternative parade,” I remarked to my wife as the third group of bank employees shuffled listlessly by, humbled by the lack of applause.
The dykes on bikes led it off excellently, it must be said, with wonder-woman and everywoman revving their phat hogs down 4street. But then came commercials for at least 20 corporations who’d “asked” their employees to participate to promote name recognition – a not-bad idea considering that the crowd of spectators must’ve exceeded a hundred thousand.
Some firms at least got into the spirit; like Chipotle, with their cowboy straddling a gyrating burrito “So Big You Can Ride It”. Starbucks made a commendable showing numbers wise; as did Microsoft, whose employees who got more into the colorful spirit. Uninterestingly enough, Amazon again didn’t do dick for the city.
Neighbors had a memorable float, so did Wildrose, as is to be expected of the best gay and lesbian clubs in town, respectively. The firefighters elected not to display their beefcake, a shame, because it was like 90 degrees out and everyone was panting for their hoses.
Kudos to the kamikaze bikini squirt gun crew, who flitted up and down the line, teasing marchers and watchers alike; applause also to pink roller batman, who I swear I saw last week in freemont as black batman – unmistakable physique.
A heartfelt thumbs-up to the doggie fetishists with butt plug tails.
But all in all, San Fran wouldn’t’ve been real impressed.
The Mormon Church was there pledging their solidarity; interesting. I suppose they must be angling for that slippery slope towards polygamy. Washington’s first wives were present as well; kind-eyed smiling octogenarians they looked from afar.
From the boy scouts to the tranny dominatrixes, everyone was totally into it. Especially, I assume, the absent Dan Savage.
Even the bike cops sported mardi gras necklaces.
Afterwards at the Seattle Center there was a mile long line to pee. The A/C was sweet, but the real fun was in getting drenched in the joyously ejaculating fountain. A competent D.J. rocked rave tracks and several freaks flocked towards his beats… but the problem was not enough people were on enough drugs. But that’s okay, there’s a time and a place for that; this was a family affair.
Chock a block with vendors’ stalls; all manner of entrepreneurs selling all kinds of shit: kudos to the guy with the $1 ice cold water cooler on wheels, my wife was just talkin bout how thirsty she is. Marijuana perfumed the air, as it does at every Seattle public gathering these days.
Shoulder to shoulder “Wieners! Penis popsicles for sale”!
It was almost weird being a straight couple there. Don’t get me wrong, we were totally welcomed (if a bit swept to the edges): one very sincere dude even stopped us and thanked us from the bottom of his heart for our support. To which I of course replied: we just came for the flesh, bro- whatever.
Not much tittilating naughtiness in the end; lots of partners with kids. That’s what gay has become in Seattle: no big deal.
Another majority-held value, with which everyone is rushing to associate now that it’s mainstream.