Tag Archives: gay pride

Lame Adventures 317: New York City Gay Pride March 2012

As we have done every year since I started writing Lame Adventures in 2010, Milton and I have watched the Big Apple’s Gay Pride parade from the sidelines.  We watch it from the sidelines because we have not been tagged to serve as the grand marshals.  What a shock!  This year we arrived armed with two cameras, three camera batteries, and his iPhone.  By the time the event ended, approximately five hours after it began, we had three dead batteries and one bar of iPhone power.  We shot over 2000 pictures and missed so many perfect moments due to our digital cameras’ slow shutter speeds.   We now have a whole new appreciation for sports photographers.  My fellow lesbian New Yorker and blogger-bud Natasia over at Hot Femme (who covered the Dyke March on her site) admires our fortitude.  She is unaware that to cap off the event, I broiled my formerly Casper-white left arm.

Ow.

Enough of my blathering, these pictures will tell the story of Gay Pride 2012 here in Gotham City.

Beautiful weather and blue sky on lower Fifth Avenue in Green Village.

Crowd waiting patiently for parade. Line in street was painted lavender.

Two nice guys that were next to us that were photographed endlessly prompting Milton to observe, “They know how to work it.”

First yike on bike for all you types that love your girls in uniform? The parade is about to start.

The parade is starting and the crowd is screaming.

The usual start – the yikes on bikes!

Lone rider.

Caped crusader.

Strutting his stuff.

Mr. Pansy is here wearing a live bird on his head.

Heritage of Pride marchers.

Rainbow balloons.

Grand Marshal Cyndi Lauper.  You rock Cyndi!

NYC Mayor Michael Bloomberg, looking like he’d rather be elsewhere.

Maybe she’s why Bloomberg is scowling?

I suppose this sign is targeting Milton and me.

On second thought …

Flaunting her Pride!

Diet Coke float boys dancing.

Lady Liberty flies in with the Delta Airlines marchers.

Big cheers for LGBT hero Governor Andrew Cuomo marching with his partner Sandra Lee.

We love our governor!

30 years together and finally allowed to marry thanks to Governor Cuomo.

Pretty boy.

Butch and Femme lesbians.

Star Trek star, gay activist and 75-year-old Boy Scout George Takei.

Hollaback girls.

Dignity marchers.

Raising the rainbow flag.

LGBT Catholics.

NAACP marchers.

Smiling gladiators.

Be yourself in blue chiffon.

Pride chapeau.

Here comes the fuzz.

Faces in the crowd.

Proud NYPD marchers.

Hot yikes on bike, but ladies you’re way behind the pack! Maybe they planned it that way?

Firetruck Pride!

LGBT firefighters marching.

The King and I all-in-one package.

Marching Fido Pride.

Girl Pride.

Pumped!

Flaming Saddles Saloon float blasting “Thank God I’m a Country Boy”.

Tattooed chick.

Hipster hat boy and friend.

News to Milton and me.

“I like that idea … I think.”

Soft focus hot chick.

Striking a pose.

Obama 2012 contingency — yes, we can again (we hope)!

Obama marchers chanting, “Four more years!” Not adding to chant, “Or else we’re screwed!”

Pride and joy boy.

Waving flag in crowd. Milton said, “Thank God we’re not by them.”

Exuberant girl ignores me and high fives Milton. He asks, “What the hell was that for?”

Mercy for all animals, not just gay ones.

Seriously WTF?

Thank you for posing for us Naked Cowgirl and my number is 1-800-LUNATIC.

Here comes the Mr. Natural guys!

I know a good waxer … just sayin’.

Whole Paycheck Pride.

Food float!

Rainbow legs.

Drummer girls.

Jock strap Pride.

Pouting Pride, or maybe the crummy photographer just missed her smiling?

Mastercard happy guy.

Babelicious girl with flag.

Good idea — get rid of DOMA!

Gay dads with their kids.

Log Cabin Republicans — all five of them (the rest read the memo).

Sewing party hat marcher.

Oooooo!

Fairy tale fellas.

Even Snow White and the Wicked Queen showed up!

Letting it all hang out.

Stilted Pride.

Pride is the time and place to wear your pink hair!

Or your pink short shorts.

Pink short shorts with rearview message.

A nurse like no other.

For anyone that forgot his or her bath salts this marcher’s prepared.

Congratulations!

“Let me climb up here for a better view.”

This chap is a wizard with a baton.

Swinging her necklaces.

Cheer leading squad.

Marching band cymbal player, also a good excuse to wear white gloves.

Happy marchers.

Feathered friends.

In case anyone was wondering, there was confetti.

Evita rolls into Pride, but without Ricky Martin.

Feeling confident.

Top hat and blue feathered boa, dressed for Pride success.

Yes, those are umbrella skirts.

“Do you want a piece of this?” Ask Milton.

Spreading his wings.

Anyone need an Adonis? They’re right here!

Gold lame ensemble (note: not wash n’ wear).

Naughty shameless flirts – and this float went by much too fast! Our interest was purely historical (hysterical?).

Dry clean only.

It’s not on a chain!

Ah, a friend of Dorothy’s!

Talented Asian drummer boys.

Frisking concerns.

In case anyone at home is wondering if she’s a lesbian and why she’s marching.

Miss, you on the right, is your name Deborah Harry?

Flaunt those blue lips and Mondrian influence.

Who is this masked man?

Impressive plumage requiring significant doorway ducking.

Winged creature but he did stay grounded.

Was this a do-it-yourself ensemble?

The Roadrunner look works well on this bloke.

Altogether say, “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!”

The very entertaining Flaggots are here!

He caught it! (But it surely would have poked my eye out.)

Flaggots are gender inclusive!

Here she comes, Miss Texas!

Not the type of frock or hat one would wear around the house.

Sunshine on heels.

Blue swirl.

Princess Leia’s hair-do lives on right here at Pride!

Mr. Mermaid or may we call you Neptune?

Gay Peruvians take their float very seriously.

Pants-less feathered pride, a CEO’s wish.

Bill de Blasio marching for votes.

Anti-fracking marcher’s poignant message.

New York Congresswoman Carolyn Maloney.

The Alien.

New York District Attorney Cyrus Vance, Jr. getting his groove on with the missus, Peggy McDonnell.

If you guys insist.

Who needs vanity plates?

To each her own.

Little sleepyhead with Mom. Milton and I know how you feel kid.

Crown available at your local florist’s.

Bear Pride!

Alright, smile for the camera!

Cycling for Pride to be followed with pounding water for Pride and scarfing a sandwich for Pride.

Is that a feather duster she’s wielding? Hm, there are a lot of feathers flying.

No longer closeted Segway rider.

Actual live singing and this guy was great!

Charlie the Matchmaker!

Are these the latest boy band heart throbs? Think again.

Whoever he is, he’s here!

“I gotta go, I can’t hold it. Sorry!”

Hello New York City!

Got sunglasses?

Lambda marchers.

Peacocks on parade.

Skipping a.k.a. how to twist an ankle where I come from.

She does not need to carry her flag on some stinking pole.

Google courts the LGBT crowd.

Crowd member (not Milton or me) pummeling Google Girl with questions.

Gay guy and gal pals.

Running for Pride to flaunt fitness.

Channeling Rock Hudson.

Pride-wear from the circus.

Fitness is no joke with these guys.

Milton and I could do this … in our dreams.

Milton’s shoelace voluntarily untied just watching those guys.

“C’mon, Milton, tie that shoelace!”

“Leave Milton alone, he tied it!”

Dalton school marchers.

Manhattan borough president Christine Quinn and possibly the first lesbian to be mayor of New York City. Go Chris!

Putting her best black boot forward.

Flirt with me – try black boot girl.

Suddenly, I’m in the mood to hear Spanish guitar.

Look, a quartet of matadors!

Never the matador, always the bull.

Olé!

In the event of a rainbow stripe shortage, here’s the reason.

Translatinas float (yes, we can read, too).

Macy’s shilling for shoppers in the name of Pride.

Multi-tasker – both photographer and marcher.

Merry Zip Car studs.

From Logo’s A-list: New York – Ryan Nikulas & Rodiney Santiago. Who knew? We didn’t.

Roman Empire boys.

We’ll keep that in mind.

Pretty young people.

Fabulous showgirls!

You came to the right parade fella.

At least they’re not nerds.

Definitely a geek.

Geek taking a bow.

Gay puppet Pride.

In case anyone missed seeing the 9,843 earlier rainbow flags, here are two more.

LGBT Bikram yoga lovers.

LGBT Russians!

Lez Factor (not related to Max Factor) marching.

Israeli guys marching.

She brings offerings but it’s not food so we pass.

Go girls.

Go Magazine float.

Occupy Wall Street marcher with Madonna issue (must prefer Lady Gaga).

Pride in a rainbow gown.

LGBT Mormons.

Pole dancer making it look uncomfortable; I’ll take the stairs.

Chief.

Mr. Pansy at the end returning to his own planet until we reconvene in 2013.

Lame Adventure 203: New York City 2011 Gay Pride Euphoria!

We were somewhere under this rainbow.

Between the two of us, Milton and I have attended many Pride celebrations through the years, but following Friday night’s historic same-sex marriage vote by the New York State Senate, neither of us had ever experienced a celebration quite like the glorious one we witnessed from the sidelines on Sunday.  The gratitude expressed to Governor Andrew Cuomo for completing the work that his predecessor, former Governor David Patterson, had started to legalize same-sex marriage in the Empire State, was expressed throughout.  Andrew Cuomo is a hero who has earned the vote of every LGBT New Yorker forever.

Gratitude.

Milton and I met at our usual undisclosed meeting place in the West Village.  Everything seemed to be going according to plan until we were pounding the pavement en route to staking out a good picture-taking spot.   I stepped off a curb and one of my gunboats landed in a fetid puddle of garbage soup.  I was generously splashed with toxic stink but fortunately my attire was not stained.  I simply smelled like I was wearing a fragrance that could have been called Vomit by Chanel.

This year, the turnout seemed much larger than in earlier years.  There was more of everyone in both the ultra inclusive crowd and the march itself.  There were gay people, straight people, oldsters, youngsters, drag queens, butch and femme types of both genders, punt dogs, families with children and couples of all persuasions.  The lovely warm weather was the perfect compliment to the celebrating.  We never once felt like we might collapse from heat prostration.

There was also an unseen heroine at Sunday’s march who was there in spirit.  She’s Lady Gaga and her anthem, Born This Way, blasted triumphantly from so many of the floats.  Milton hailed:

Milton (hailing): That’s the song of a generation!

I pondered his assessment and groaned.

Me (groaning):  We had Material Girl for ours.

Clearly, the country is moving in a progressive direction.  Posted below are some of the over 1,200 pictures Milton and I shot of this year’s victory march.  Enjoy!

Waiting for the march to start.

The traditional kickoff featuring Dykes on Bikes leading the way.

Throng of jubilant marriage equality supporters marching, including one wearing her pet snake as a scarf.

Victorious marriage equality float.

Grand Marshalls, It Gets Better Project creators, Dan Savage & Terry Miller.

Gay man's burden.

Jubilation!

Flag bearer.

Grumpy the Care Bear.

Senator Chuck Schumer

NYPD marching band.

New York City Police Commissioner Ray Kelly

Easy riders.

Hand in hand in awe of the crowd.

FDNY couple.

New mother pride.

Five decades ready to make it legal.

Super soaker boys.

Boxers with a fighting chance.

Milton's dreamboat financial advisors.

Can your financial advisor do this?

Hand in hand.

Fitness king.

Rainbow attire.

Uber rainbow attire.

Rainbow diva.

Naked Cowgirl and Friends.

Asian pride boys.

Asian pride girls.

What Milton and I will wear to 2012 Pride.

Handsome scooter kid.

Topless joy.

Leg up on pride.

Got it and flaunting it.

If anyone's missing feathers, they're over here.

Nice hats.

Nice boots.

Winged victory.

Dominique Strauss Kahn's nemesis*, Manhattan District Attorney Cyrus Vance, Jr.

*Not anymore!

Great view.

New York State Senator Tom Duane and his spouse Louis Webre.

Rainbow flag bearer.

Thanks for sharing.

Modern family.

Dads and daughter.

Pedal power.

Milton and I have tried to do this at home with me peddling and he pole dancing. He told me his concussion wasn't that bad.

The reliably lovely Juno.

Marching with the Yorkie.

Marching with the Dachshund.

Punk Batman.

Princess Bear.

Showing off their little girl side.

Banner says all.

Leatherman and friend.

Latin women marching.

Latin guys marching.

Evita's here!

Ready to be wed.

Super ready to be wed.

Hey sailor!

Together at last, blue bikini undies and white chiffon.

Say cheesecake!

Happy dance.

Daughter of Divine: Miss Liberty with attitude!

News to us.

Happy face.

Pretty dudes.

Dignity

Good question.

Good observation.

Shake it.

Michael Lucas of Lucas Entertainment waving Israel's flag.

Blue masked man.

Living color.

Lamba Legal.

Lesbian action heroines.

Bears.

Quakers marching.

Affection.

Hedda Redda.

Whistle blower.

Shirtless smile. Yes, that is a penismobile in the backgound.

Superhero pride.

Turkey baster son with his lesbian mom.

Daughter proud to have a lesbian mom.

Hula hoopster.

Sandwich board pride.

Interesting concept: sobriety.

Viking man.

Viking woman.

Stonewall law students.

Silver Surfer's spawn.

Euphoria!

Subtle signage.

As the saying goes, little flag, big smile.

Nice glasses.

Big wheels.

Big stilts.

Out and proud journalist Jane Velez Mitchell.

Dancing duet of joy.

Muscle Beach Fabio.

Pride and joy.

Post pride water canons in the Hudson at sunset.

Big bang fireworks over Hudson.

Lame Adventure 71: She’s Baaaaaaaaaaaaack!

Milton and I spent most of Sunday on the phone talking to each other in our respective hovels on the East and West Sides of Manhattan.  We were busy adding Lame Adventures to Facebook (something I had hoped to avoid doing forever) and solving the mysteries of Twitter.  The fact that I bombarded him with so many irritating questions (“I swear I don’t have that button on my screen!  Where’s it on yours?”) encouraged him to guzzle a fifth of Maker’s Mark.  This might have also delayed our progress a tad.

We finally accomplished our goals around ten in the evening and then Milton spent the next hour complaining to me in a slurred voice about how much he did not want to return to work on Monday.  Ever the loyal friend, I expressed a similar opinion, also with slurred speech, even though I had only polished off a quart of Lipton Cold Brew iced tea.  Just as we were saying goodnight, Milton instantly sobered:

Milton:  I forgot to tell you!

Me:  What?

Milton:  Blow Tart shops at my supermarket!

Even though I heard him perfectly, I said:

Me:  What?

Milton (insistent):  Blow Tart shops at my supermarket!

Blow Tart, for the unaware Lame Adventures reader (please see Lame Adventure 65: Pride Baby!), is a person of indeterminate gender that was standing next to us when we watched the Gay Pride parade in lower Manhattan two weeks ago.  I thought she was a woman, Milton thought she was a man, or possibly someone pre-op.  We were both indifferent about that – hey, to each his or her own – but our issue with Blow Tart was the ear splitting piercing whistle that she blew for so long and so loud, even marchers in the parade were shouting at her to knock it off.  An exhausted drag queen with painfully blistered feet told her he could hear her from three blocks away, adding, “Where do you get the energy?  Helen Keller can hear you!”

This wilted rose surely looked a lot fresher four hours earlier that day.

Back to Sunday night:

Me:  Was she still wearing the whistle?

Milton:  I could recognize her even without the whistle.

Me:  Are you absolutely, positively, 100% sure it was Blow Tart?  [hopeful] Maybe you were mistaken.

Milton:  She was with that same odd fellow friend.  They looked at me funny.  If they saw me with you, they’d recognize us.  If they knew about your blog …

Milton’s voice trails off.

Me:  What?  We’d both be entering the Witness Protection Program about now?  Please!  She loves attention.  She’d probably kiss us both on the lips.

Milton emits a groan reminiscent of a constipated buffalo.

Milton:  Now I dread I’m going to see her every time I buy spaghetti sauce.  Don’t you get it?  She lives in my neighborhood!  My neighborhood!

Me:  What was she wearing?

Milton:  I don’t know!  I ran!  I lost myself in the Dairy Department!

On that note, we ended the conversation; Milton polished off the last of his Maker’s Mark, and then passed out with audio of Blow Tart blowing that whistle right into our ears again.

Torture by whistle -- water boarding's great-grandmother.