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Pride parade

Last weekend (not the most recent one, but the one before that… does the English language have a better way to handle this, or are we stuck?) was my first weekend in my new apartment, and that Sunday was a gorgeous day. Best of all, the Space Needle, which I could see quite clearly from my oversized windows, was flying the rainbow flag. Indeed, it was the day of the Seattle Pride Parade, which would be going down my street.

There had been this whole big thing about the owners of the Space Needle wanting $50,000 in exchange for flying the pride flag, and I think some money was collected, but anyway, something happened and they decided to hoist it up. So that was a great thing to see in the morning. I was pondering whether I should watch the parade from my window or from the street when I got a text from my friend Mark. He said he was at my apartment building visiting other people and invited me to join them.

There was a whole get-together going on, and Mark was one of many guests. They had this fancy brunch buffet and everything, complete with mimosas or whatever alcoholic beverages people drink before noon. When it came time for the parade to start, some of us went down to the street to watch. There were a lot of people already there, so one of the other guests had gone ahead and saved us a spot.

I had only been to a few parades before, and none on this scale. There were LGBT groups, corporate groups, church groups, musical groups… you name it. Amazon had a group marching in the parade, and so did Microsoft. Members of Seattle Atheists were dressed as pirates and had a giant Flying Spaghetti Monster, and Mark ran into the street to be touched by its noodly appendage.

Speaking of noodly appendages, I guess it was bad of me to assume that there would be a lot of overt sexuality in the parade. There wasn’t, really, except for the naked bicyclists. I wonder how they were allowed to be naked outside. Some of them didn’t even have body paint… I think. I was looking at their faces.

Throughout the parade, there was a lot of noise—cheering, applauding, and so on—but not a word needed to be spoken. That really made an emotional impact on me, the fact that a large group of people could celebrate without words. Everybody seemed to have the same idea in mind.

I have a retort for anyone who might wonder why many LGBT people express their pride so publicly: “I believe they’ll keep on doing it as long as you keep trying to make them feel ashamed.” Fortunately, I haven’t had to use it yet, and I hope I never will, but there’s still a long way to go. And the fact that the parade was on a Sunday morning: irony at its deliciousest. (Well, it’s not really irony, I guess.)

Here are some photos of the parade from someone who must have been standing right next to me.

This link is a little late for the Fourth of July, but watch an British teenager show off his knowledge of American history.