Dour

An estimated one million people attended the pride parade in Toronto yesterday, and we were three of them. Paul and I stood in the front lines, because we’re short, and because I wanted to take photos. Todd stood farther back. After it was over:

Sage What was wrong with you? Every time I turned around you stood there looking so tight-lipped and dour.

Todd That was my “I am transfigured with happiness and trying really hard not to break down into a sobbing mess” face.

Sage Ohhh.

On our way to the parade on the bus I overheard a man saying, “…except I’m not sure when the parade starts.”

I turned around in my seat. “Two o’clock. The parade starts at two o’clock.” Then I realized it was obvious that I’d been eavesdropping, but he just smiled and said, “Oh, good. Thanks.”

That’s how it felt all day. As if everyone had been walking around the city, seperate, and then just for one day we were all together and the usual boundaries didn’t apply.

I was a little concerned when six frowning women marched past us on the subway platform, clutching their bibles, but I guess they were just off to church. (On Saturday Paul and I passed a man on a street corner droning on about God and holding one of those giant bibles with Holy Bible on the cover in gold leaf that looks more like a movie prop than a real book, and everyone was walking briskly by. A block later we passed a man who was showing a PETA video about factory farming and handing out brochures entitled Why Go Vegan. There were about fifteen people watching and reading the literature. Including Paul, which means we may be moving from vegetarian to vegan next week.)

We stood and cheered and clapped and fought back tears for about an hour, and then we were exhausted and headed off to have some lunch. It was very congenial; we sat on the patio with all the gay and lesbian smokers (the non-smoking movement will never take hold in that community) and I wanted to stand up and shout HAPPY PRIDE DAY! to everyone sitting there, but I couldn’t quite get up the courage. When we’d finished lunch Todd and Paul went to the park together and I set off to find a movie to watch.

Originally I’d planned to see Fahrenheit 9/11. Todd went to see it Saturday and said it was incredibly disturbing and well made and scary. So much so that the minute he got home he started filling out the application for permenant residence in Canada (which means you get all the perks of being a citizen except the voting, and we can’t apply for citizenship until January 2007) to ensure that we never have to go back to the States.

I really wanted to see the movie the way Todd did, in a jam packed theatre filled with Pride Week celebrants, but by the time the parade was over I felt so filled with happiness and hope that I didn’t want to have it all come crashing down around my ears. So I went to the Paramount to see what was playing. Nothing. I went to Empress Walk to see what was playing. Nothing. By that time it was too late to make any movie, so I gave up on checking, bought a book, some water, and a bag of gourmet cookies at the grocery store and started home. I love reading on the subway. Sometimes I think that I’d like to hop on the subway at six in the morning and just ride all day, reading and snacking when I get hungry.

Back in an excellent mood, I happily skipped to the apartment building door and put my hand inside my backpack to get my keys out. Except they weren’t there. I had no idea when Todd and Paul were due back, and though I considered sitting on a bench and reading until they got home, I was pretty sure the mosquitos would be out in full force. So I got back on the subway and arrived at the park. Where there was no sign of Todd and Paul, of course.

I managed to have three 30 second conversations on my cellphone with Todd as he crossed over various outdoor bridges on the subway, and conveyed my sad predicament. Luckily they were just a couple of subway stops to the west and came to get me. We all stumbled home around ten o’clock, and heard - for the second night in a row - mysterious live flute music floating on the wind.