Congratulations, Icelanders!
50 thousand at the biggest Gay Pride in Reykjavík yet. Many were, of course, tourists and gawkers, but a lot of people showed the colors, which shows at least tolerance, and a lot of people had come from abroad to take part. I was there in 2000 at the first real parade, when the organizers were astonished to come around the corner to find 15 thousand people waiting to march down Laugarvegur with them. The whole thing is really great. I bought a little flag and waved it around and yelled. There wasn't quite enough of that, and there were undoubtedly many among the thousands of concert-goers who were just there for the music and on their own time really just didn't understand why these freaks had to carry on so. Plenty out for the cotton candy and the spectacle of it all.
But the MSC were there, with one fellow in assless chaps, a couple in rubber (which would have been really hot yesterday in the purely literal sense), and a little fellow of at least 70 waving the flag. He was really great. The organization for deaf gays and lesbians in Iceland was there. A whole truck full of hommahækjur -- that's your word of the day, kids, Icelandic for Fag Hag. Out-coming Queens and Kings. Drag Kings and Queens. Fey boys on stilt-like platform heels. Glitter. Dykes on bikes. Some home-grown Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. A a whole football team holding up red cards against prejudice. When they went by the announcer intoned: "Score tonight, boys, score tonight!" Many moms with baby carriages. And Páll Óskar, Iceland's most famous gay boy.
Fantastic weather for it all; I think I sunburned the rims of my ears. I ate a bunch of street-celebration food and was nearly ill. It was the complete experience. No, really. Walking home with the rainbow flag sticking out of my bag, a guy laying pavement yelled:
Hey, Queer!
But the MSC were there, with one fellow in assless chaps, a couple in rubber (which would have been really hot yesterday in the purely literal sense), and a little fellow of at least 70 waving the flag. He was really great. The organization for deaf gays and lesbians in Iceland was there. A whole truck full of hommahækjur -- that's your word of the day, kids, Icelandic for Fag Hag. Out-coming Queens and Kings. Drag Kings and Queens. Fey boys on stilt-like platform heels. Glitter. Dykes on bikes. Some home-grown Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. A a whole football team holding up red cards against prejudice. When they went by the announcer intoned: "Score tonight, boys, score tonight!" Many moms with baby carriages. And Páll Óskar, Iceland's most famous gay boy.
Fantastic weather for it all; I think I sunburned the rims of my ears. I ate a bunch of street-celebration food and was nearly ill. It was the complete experience. No, really. Walking home with the rainbow flag sticking out of my bag, a guy laying pavement yelled:
Hey, Queer!