This past Sunday was NY Gay Pride. After 5 years of living here, it is only the second Pride weekend that I've experienced (and I choose that particular word because it is quite the experience). Ironically enough, hetero weddings in Miami on Pride weekend have kept me out of NY for the first 3 years. Last year I avoided the parade as I'm just not a fan of mass public gatherings. They reek of the plebeian. Unfortunately for me, I had to work this past Sunday, but the silver lining to that cloud was that I had front row seats to the parade from the store windows. The heavily tourist and Sunday stroller population of bourgie midtown keeps the parade quite tame, clothed and un-fetishistic in the nosebleed zip codes (Maybe next year I'll find a spot somewhere downtown to look onto the debauchery). But I digress. After all, the point of this post is about my euphoric dance celebration. My friend Gio and chose our usual Sunday destination of Greenhouse to celebrate Pride. On Sundays, Greenhouse is host to Van Dam, a Susanne Bartsch and Kenny Kenny hosted night of hedonism where drag queens, costume bedazzled characters, hotties and hipsters dance their pussies off on two levels of unadulterated gayness. It being THE weekend of weekends for us gays, Sunday night exceeded all expectations. In an attempt to beat the crowds, Gio and I jumped in a cab at 10 pm, just as the doors were opening at Greenhouse. Stalled in traffic, we were terrified we'd have to wait in line. We got there and we did have to wait, but for two seconds. The scene inside was already getting rowdy. The mobs at the bars were 6 people deep, but Gio being the rail-thin fit model he is, was able to stealthily maneuver through the boys and score the first round of free drinks (the hosts graciously liquor up the masses for free until 11. It's a recessie, so we oblige!). Drinks securely in hand, we made attempts to stick it out and funk it up in the downstairs jungle but the frenetically strobing lights were enough to put us weaklings over the edge. So we ascended to the glass ball ceilinged upper room where pop/house sounds drive the beats. G and I fagged it up mildly for a bit so as not to expend our energies too prematurely. By 11, I had downed the evening's last drink and was fueled up for a fun night.For some reason, a night's soundtrack rarely rests long in my mind so I cannot remember what music the DJ was spinning but I know it was strong ass-shaking, get-up-and-move tunes. From 1030 til about 230 AM I danced non-stop, with and without partners. Gio left around midnight but within minutes he rushed back to find me and drag me to where Hamish Bowles was dancing in his SS09 patterned Prada jacket (which he did not remove all night) and trademark glasses. He was flipping his silky hair like a stripper does when she's in a "hot for teacher" costume and there was something severely enticing about the swish of his locks. The crowd of boys was ridiculously hot but I was having such an ecstatic time dancing that I refused to be bothered with deciding which one I might want to "get to know better". So instead, I rubbed moist (never sweaty) shoulders and exchanged flirty pleasantries with Casey, the cute tank top clad blond in Alexander Wang's entourage, complimented the pretty black girl in her SS09 Marc Jacobs-inspired costume and flailed alongside my biggest fan, the beautiful and Studio 54 attired Mechial. I was like an epileptic seizure moving with the music, with a wide grin plastered on my face. It was such a great feeling of freedom dancing without a damn care in the world. I didn't give a damn if I was alone or if people thought I was some strung out/crazy crack head, the music was coursing through me and I could only rasp along because my voice was gone. As I deliriously twirled and gyrated, I was being bumped left and right by the anonymous bodies making their way onto and off of the dance floor. Alcohol spilled freely over my bare legs and sweat mists made my face glow. My feet hurt thanks to my high heel green patent leather YSL Johnny boots but the pain was so good it just kept me in a frenzied dance.
Try as I might I couldn't suppress the beaming smile. Even the next day at work, the rapture still hadn't faded. Nothing could conquer the high that still hadn't worn off from my delirious soiree. I really couldn't remember the last time I had felt so free and light.