Tomorrow is Pride Day on Capital Hill, which means that there are more than 100,000 proud, proud folks in my neighborhood that are not here the other 364 days of the year. In response, I've bolted my doors, secured two days worth of snacks and hunkered down for a shut-in weekend with Mrs. Puff.
I know this action will officially put me in the "grouchy," or "sourpuss" category, even the "asocial" and "party pooper" subsections of those categories, it's just where I happen to be this weekend. You roll the dice, sometimes you get Sourpuss Beth. I've imbibed more than my share of mimosas along the parade route in years past (In those cases, you roll the dice and get Funny But Clumsy Drunk Beth that will talk your ear off about Duran Duran) and loved cheering on the thousands of gay men in hot pants and body glitter ("Overly Enthusiastic Fag Hag Beth").
Look, this isn't about what my parents would affectionately call "the gays." This is about what I call "the tourists." Thousands of them looking for the parade route. Thousands of them looking for parking to get to the parade route. Thousands of them waiting in line for bloody marys at brunch. Bloody marys I should be drinking without having to wait in line for 2 hours.
Pride Day celebrants -- have a great Pride Day and hold your heads up high not just today but every day of the year. Have fun in our city, catch up with your friends and loved ones, and then, well, head on home as soon as you can. We'll see how my attitude might change the next time pride rolls around.
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