Gay Pride in Traflgar Square, Or How I Remembered to Blog Again

Last night I called my cousin Ruthie and was asked if I was still at "that bed and breakfast in London" since that was when last my loyal audience heard from me. A better question would have been "did you survive Pride in London?" since I was on my way out the door to that one when last I posted, and the answer is that yes, I did, and it was fabulous.

Alex and I went down to Trafalgar where the parade was supposed to cruise by and then festivities would be taking place. We picked up some schwag, got a sandwich, and tried to strategize the best possible spot to see the parade from. Eventually it began coming by and it was much longer, more exciting, and more colorful than I could have possibly expected. They had what seemed like the entire staff of British airlines marching along for Pride, they had doubledeckers festooned with streamers and banners blaring your best post-disco Eurotrash dance music, beautiful drag queens in Vegas showgirl ensembles, a strange string of Amy Winehouse impersonators, cops, firefighters, ambulances for Pride, the whole shabang! Everyone was so happy and the crowd who turned out was HUGE. I guess it's to be expected in London, but I'm a girl from a mid-size American city, so it was a big deal to me!

When we turned back to Trafalgar Square, where a huge stage was set up for musical acts and Sir Ian McKellan speaking, the crowd started jumping into the fountains and swimming around. I didn't want to miss my once-in-a-lifetime shot at swimming in the Trafalgar fountains, so I stripped down somewhat and jumped in. A nice guy helped me climb up to an upper tier and I surveyed the crowd-- everyone was dancing and laughing and getting photos with the Vegas show queens and hugging. Alex got a few photos of me paddling around and then I borrowed my camera so I could take photos myself. I heard him calling to me and so I waded back over to where I'd left him only to find him lip-locked with a very enamored Asian fellow. Thinking he'd found his own way to get into the spirit of Pride, I busted out my camera to take a few shots, which only egged on his new friend. After taking a few pictures, I noticed the guy wouldn't stop kissing poor Alex, and that the look on Alex's face wasn't so much one of surprise as "help! I'm being lip-raped!" I realized I needed to rescue him, so I jumped out of the fountain and dragged him away-- a difficult task given how attached this guy had become to Alex!

We circled back into the crowd and heard Ian McKellan's speech, which was very stirring. He's got a great voice and everyone was so happy he was there. The cops were getting mad that everyone had been in the fountains, however, and asked the musical act preceding Sir Ian to tell the crowd he wouldn't be able to come on if we didn't stop swimming because everything would get shut down. Everyone climbed out, reluctantly at first, but once Sir Ian came on, the energy built back up and everyone listened very carefully. When he was done with his speech another musical act came on and everyone started jumping up and dancing. It's one thing to go clubbing and get into the energy of a whole roomful of people dancing-- it's quite another when the crowd fills all of Trafalgar square! Alex and I danced and danced until our legs were plumb tuckered and it was time to rush off to the theater.

We got dinner at a very spicy and entirely empty Indian restaurant on the South Bank and then saw a marvelous production of The Revenger's Tragedy at the National Theatre complex. I'm always impressed with their productions and this was no exception. There was the perfect mix of sticking to the interesting parts of period costume and set design without being afraid to throw in some modern elements. There was a revolving stage that the characters moved through in a montage at the beginning-- depicting a bacchanalian orgy and a chilling rape scene set to a throbbing house/trance beat spun by two DJs perched in a box high above the stage and just a little to the left of where we were sitting. I hadn't read or heard of the play before, but Alex and I agreed Tom Middelton put together a wonderful plot full of great creepy moments and satisfying bloodthirst. You can't beat a protagonist who keeps his murdered fiance's skull in a trunk and routinely converses with it. The staging and direction were magnificent, and it was the rare kind of play that made me wish I could have it on video to watch over and over.

I'll save more tales from my adventure in England for next time I post. There's a ton of good stories and photos to share and recent ones as well. I know I'm quite behind on my blogging but I got so wrapped up in being in England I didn't want to take too much time out to reflect while I was there. Never the less, I'm back in America now and it's the school year, so the distraction of blogging is quite welcome.