Rainbow Sherbet

When the Empire State Building glistens with the hues of rainbow sherbet, it means only one thing. “Free ice cream for everyone, not.” This delightful occurrence is in celebration of gay pride.

It’s the week where New Yorkers ditch the traditional sleek black attire and embrace their inner rainbow. For this New York gay, Pride week has always meant a bevy of splendid events.

This year’s gay pride week was better than unicorns, rainbows and Barbara Streisand belting out a dazzling number. There was the highbrow magazine party, which was better than a Kylie Minogue meets Madonna concert.

Men slipped into their spiffiest attire and schmoozed. This was followed by the grand dame of all events, drag bingo, my personal favorite..

When gayness couldn’t get more gay, there was also the gay, jazz cabaret, celebrating the legendary voices of Billie Holiday and Nat King Cole. By the weekend, there was one event I wanted to avoid.

Years prior I had always avoided the gay Pride Parade. My last parade was in 2009. Vividly, I remember standing on the corner of twenty-third and Fifth.

There was loud club music, dancing go-go boys and humidity, which creped into the threads of my polo shirt. I was bored and yawned. Then I thought, “this is the same shit, I’ve seen everywhere. Why aren’t there more political statements?”

On that faithful day, I eventually met up with Tony in the West Village. He took my hand and walked with me through historically significant Christopher Street. “This is the purpose of pride. I can hold your hand through Christopher Street,” he said. I gulped for a moment there and thought to myself, “shit, I can’t take these things for granted.”

(Fast forward) This year, I had my own pride celebration. My theatre loving friend, Jenna and I indulged in soup dumplings. We then frolicked around Chinatown, singing show tunes from the great gay icons. The singing continued into the East Village. In my own words, I proclaimed, ” I don’t need a parade to display own my gay pride. Everyday is gay pride in Anthony land.”

We eventually sat on a park bench in Union Square, the sounds of loud music from the parade, echoed. I took a gander at the scenery, which featured a bevy of folks decked in rainbow pride. Internally, I thought, ” Gee, all this gay, ain’t it grand.”

Cardigans FM (the radio station in my head) played “Don’t rain on my parade” and I drifted into a land of uber campiness. Happy (be-lated) gay pride, everyone.

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