Red and yellow and pink and green...

Somewhere over the rainbow

In Chicago's Boystown, the lamposts on Halsted are permanently adorned with gay (and I don't mean happy) rainbows and coloured lights. Elsewhere in the windows of the more adult establishments, mannequins are bedecked in all manner of leather, feather, and fur. The neighbourhood is friendly, happy, and safe. And this Sunday afternoon, the streets will erupt as Chicago celebrates Gay Pride.

Bluebirds Fly

I have only been to Sydney's Mardi Gras once. I should have gone twice of course, but I am not going to dwell on the circumstances that prevented that, am I, Kate? Build a bridge, Gab. But I remember being on Oxford Street and perching myeslf on three stacked milk crates to watch the fabulous parade, only to get down 4 hours later and realise that my knees had locked together making walking very difficult indeed. A repeat performance of such pain will not be necessary this year. I only live one street away from all the action, so no milk crates will be required. As a citizen of the area, I'm going to use my elbows and muscle into position at the front of the crowd to claim a section of the sidewalk just for myself.

There's a land that I heard of

The funniest part about this year's Parade is that I was actually invited to participate in it. I've only ever been in one parade before, and then I was anonymous - dressed as a clown and riding a tricycle. It was Christmas, by the way. But this year, the Human Rights Commission's Chicago Chapter has invited me to take 'pride' of place on its float! Of course they're asking me because I volunteered some time with them last weekend for their big annual gala. But I wonder whether they realise that I would perhaps be the only straight girl on the float? If I got to wear a tiara I would think about it. But really, I have already committed myself to hosting a cocktail party on Sunday in advance of the parade, so I had to politely decline. Instead, I've agreed to stand on the sidewalk by the IHOP and wave enthusiastically when the HRC passes by.

Once in a lullaby

The Gay Pride parade only happens once a year in Chicago, but the spirit of the neighbourhood doesn't seem to realise it. And sure Boystown may not be the easiest place for a straight girl to find the loving she's looking for, but it makes it vastly easier to find capable dancing partners and guys more than ready to sing the John Travolta part in "Summer Days" karaoke. And sometimes that really is what a girl wants.

So to the boys and girls marching this weekend, best of luck. I will be out there (but not "out" there) waving my hanky at you with one hand, and holding a champagne cocktail in the other. Solidarity, brother (I mean, sister).