August 04, 2009
The Color of Jealously is Yellow
Oh my God, I can't believe I forgot to tell you about my Near Death Experience at the Pride Parade! Okay, really, I probably wasn't near to death, but had I been less sophisticated and merciful than I am, it definitely would have escalated into a fistfight.
I attended the (Gay) Pride Parade -- the Gay is in parentheses because, apparently, it has been dropped from the name of the parade, and I don't know why because if you are proud of being gay then why would you remove gayness from the title, thereby cloaking the whole parade in such vagueness??? -- with Heather, Joe and Larry. I was Joe's hag; Heather was mine.
We stationed ourselves on a less-busy street of the route, outside a bar owned and operated by some good friends of Joe's. We had a good view and weren't at all crowded. It was a lovely day -- not too hot -- and we were on the shady side of the street. All in all, it was quite perfectly splendid, and we couldn't have asked for a nicer time.
Until Miss Terry Cloth came along. First, I will describe the dress. It was a banana-yellow, terrycloth halter-dress. TERRYCLOTH. Uck. Horrible. Friends don't let friends wear terrycloth in public, people! Clearly, she was no one's hag because no self-respecting gay would have let her leave the house like that. Myself, I was decked out in assorted leather accessories from Joe's vast collection. Tres chic!
So Terry came barrelling down the sidewalk towards our peaceful perch just outside the bar. Her arms were flailing, her hair was whipping -- she was in quite a tizzy. She was followed closely by a man I can only describe as a greasy, hairy slimeball, and he was trying in vain to grab her arm and make her stop walking. He was finally successful. Right in front of us. Oh joy.
I can't really transcribe their conversation, since I don't think there were actual sentences, but it boiled down to this: Terry was sure that Hairy was cheating on her with one of their mutual friends. (Now, I'm not sure, but I think that this may have been due, at least in part, to her blood alcohol level being well over .08.) Hairy thought that the accusation was The Most Ridiculous and Hilarious Thing In the History of Ever.
Methinks the slimeball doth protest too much.
He was doing that thing that guilty skirt-chasers do when confronted with their actions -- laugh OUTRAGEOUSLY in an attempt to deflect attention from the fact that they're not actually denying that the cheating happened.
It was pretty obvious to everyone at, and in, the parade that Hairy was boffing Terry's friend. I've seen mimes do a better, more subtle job of physically expressing laughter. Dude actually held his stomach and slapped his knee. It was quite a show.
Less interesting, however, was Terry's repetitive, F-bomb-laden diatribe. Personally, I've never been one to shy from a well-placed F-bomb, but when that's all you can think of to say, it's time to stop talking. Terry and Hairy were, almost literally, raining on our parade.
Finally, I was obliged to say something.
"Excuse me. My friends and I are here to have a nice time, so can you please take your argument somewhere else?"
"FUCK YOU! WE'RE NOT ARGUING!"
Okay then. I weighed my options. I could fire back with some F-bombs, since that's the only language she speaks. However, I figured that was only asking for some hair-pulling and eye-scratching, which would then require Heather, Joe and Larry to back me up, and why ruin everyone's day? The Pride Parade is supposed to be about LOVE and ACCEPTANCE. And I respect that.
Terry and Hairy didn't leave, but they stopped speaking to each other, and Hairy had the good taste to at least look a little embarassed. Meanwhile, I ran through possible scenarios in my head, should the star-crossed lover start up again.
Would Heather have my back? Of course. Heather would cut a bitch for me with a smile on her face and a song in her heart.
Would Joe have my back? Most likely. Whatever reservation he might feel about cold-cocking a chick would be overturned by the knowledge that she'd never remember it anyway.
Would Larry have my back? No, Larry would probably stand there with an amused look on his face, happy to watch the drama from out of fists' reach. And I can't really blame him.
Public drama sucks, people. It is never, never, ever okay. I don't care how just your cause -- losing your shit in public is trashy. It tells everyone in a five-block radius that you are uneducated, immature and self-absorbed. This has been a Public Service Announcement.
Oddly enough, you know who saved the day? The mutual friend that Hairy was schtupping. She showed up completely oblivious like, "Hey, guys, whattup?" And Terry motored outta there. Awesome! Thank you, Slutty Mutual Friend! Many blessings upon your future adulterous escapades!
Comments
You are quite the storyteller!
Posted by: Kurt at August 15, 2009 06:28 PM