Monday, March 07, 2005

Oh G.O.D - Gay OverDose

The gayest weekend of my life is over, at least for another year. A few reflections:

March, vantage point and Fox Studios party all good. The march in particular was refreshingly and unashamedly political, with Howard's head on a giant snake my most memorable float (although when I was explaining how evil Howard is to a spunky young Brazilian whom I was sort of chaperoning that evening, I got daggers from a co-spectator who informed me that she proudly voted Liberal and that apparently he "can't please everybody". Frankly, I don't think he needs to aim so high; I'd just like to see him please *anybody* other than mortgaged Jesus folk in the western suburbs and ex-One Nation voters in Cairns. Is that so much to ask?) As the rain began to fall Saturday afternoon when I was frantically mincing up and down King Street trying to find some shiny new shoes to go with my outfit, I feared Fred's prayers were going to be answered two years running, but there was not a drop to drink when the parade itself started.

I now look foward to the conspiracy theories from the usual suspects about how the figure of 450,000-500,000 attendees is a fallacy - that such a number is physically impossible to fit into Liverpool, Oxford and Flinders streets - but the reality is that this is a Mardi Gras renaissance. The parade will probably never be as big as it was in its early 90s halcyon years, but people didn't take it for granted this year and we were reminded that we can still stage a kick-arse parade when we put our minds to it.

The parade party was undeniably a success, sold out to the tune of 19,000. It didn't start brilliantly for me - lots of people, lots of standing around trying to get people together to go somewhere, unable to find a base camp that played music we were looking for, yadda yadda - but eventually as the dust settled the night evolved into a fine morning. I was particularly chuffed to learn that one of the single most beautiful young men I have ever come across in my relatively short time in Sydney also thought I was not completely unfortunate-looking, but the party being the way it is we lost each other somewhere. If anybody comes across an angel with a shaved head called Luke - who was an official with the march - could they please return him to me ASAP? Generous reward offered.

Running into unexpected old friends visiting from Adelaide also made the night that little bit more special. Why is it that at MG parties when you're looking for one specific person, you run into or find instead every single other person you've ever met in your life? And how the hell did people co-ordinate in the days before mobile phone texting too?

I didn't make it to Toybox at Luna Park, which was a pity as you could not have asked for better Sunday weather. 2006 for sure.

I think I'll reserve next weekend for pizza (compensation for my week of no-dinners-pre-MG diet) and Ingmar Bergman/Francois Truffaut movies. My body is crying out for some injection of high-browedness after this weekend's saturation of pop culture. And pepperoni.


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