Milton and I celebrated gay pride New York City-style this weekend by watching the LGBT Pride March from the sidelines on lower Fifth Avenue near West 16th Street. As we played dueling digital cameras in the humid heat, we did not complain for it did not rain on our parade, something I feared might happen. We also kept ourselves well hydrated. I had my 20-ounce bottle of water and Milton guzzled an entire Poland Spring water truck personally before we shared a liter of refreshing mango (not served by Chris Kattan) sangria over dinner afterward.
The parade itself was an uplifting event. Marriage, family, religious acceptance and equality were key themes. We noticed many members of organized faiths marching. In the forty years that this event has been taking place, it’s very moving to see the progress that has been made. Milton and I both got lumps in our throats when we saw the contingency from the New York Police Department in their dress blues march past. Forty-one years ago when the Stonewall riots ignited in Greenwich Village, the police bashed the patrons to the point of inciting revolt. That was the pivotal event that started the pride movement that continues today, but who would have ever anticipated that a battalion of out gay and lesbian cops would march proudly in such a parade? And they were followed by the out gay and lesbian firefighters. What’s next out and proud Catholic priests and nuns? Oops, better not go there.
The person standing next to me, an individual of indeterminate gender who I thought was female, but Milton swore he saw an Adam’s apple, doubled as a human vuvuzela forever blowing a piercing whistle to entice marchers to come her way. Standing along side this exuberantly demonstrative parade-goer for three hours and forty-five minutes was a bit taxing for both of us. The limited hearing in my impaired right ear is undoubtedly further decreased, but I pointed out to Milton that “Blow Tart” (our name for this person) was not the worst person in the world. It was not like we were stuck standing next to Osama bin Laden and his dialysis machine. Afterward, I asked Milton what he thought someone like Blow Tart did for a living. He suggested in a droll tone, “Annoy people. She’s great at her job.”
Posted below are some of our photographs and because we’re devils, a little video we shot of Blow Tart that we posted on YouTube. This better illustrates why Milton’s knee-jerk response is “idiot” every time I mention this person. Overall, it was a lovely parade, and we did have a great time.

Grand Marshal US Army Lieutenant Dan Choi, West Point graduate and gay rights activist trying to overturn Don't Ask Don't Tell.

Parade worker cleaning crap emitted from Wells Fargo carriage horse prompting Milton to say, "Don't shit on our parade!"

The blood rushed to both our heads just watching this. The dancer is 27-year-old Marlo Fiskin. Her partner is pedaling the bike.

New York Congressman Anthony Weiner -- "Isn't it great to have a name like Weiner on gay pride day?"
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thank you, la woman. that was an excellent taste of the city and wonderful coverage of the parade!!!
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Excellent!
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Fun & Beautiful
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Love all the photos. Didn’t want it to end.
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“Is that you Courtney Love?” Looks kina like Genesis P-Orridge
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Good point. There is a resemblance. Thanks for sharing.
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lovely parade photos.. those beautiful men 🙂 sigh…haa
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Milton and I had a good time at the parade that year excluding Blow Tart blowing that whistle directly into my ear canal.
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