I couldn't believe my eyes: Is that guy wearing a thong? What the hell...
I had just gotten off of the train at the Belmont station to catch the purple line train to Evanston, and ran smack-dab into a crowd of outrageously dressed young people, getting their party on. I looked across the train tracks and saw a deluge of people moving down Belmont.
"What's going on?" I thought. Then I saw a man waving a rainbow colored flag. "Oh! It's the gay pride parade." I vaguely remembered hearing about that somewhere. It was a raucous scene. I happened to have my trusty G9 (camera) with me and took a few pictures of the crowd from the train platform. I enjoyed watching the spectacle as I waited for my train ... and waited ... and waited. Eventually, I realized that all of the trains were brown lines, did they cancel the purple line? It sure seemed like it.
I called my appointment. "Oh, you're caught in the gay pride parade,"said the receptionist. "You'll have to reschedule." Great, just great. I started to go back home, but since I was at the parade, I thought I might as well go down and take a few photographs. But, I was acutely aware that, as a middle aged, conservatively dressed Black man, I would be on front street in a crowd of gay, predominantly white twentysomethings, and look foolish. So, I hesitated.
I asked myself, "Do you have the courage to go with the flow?" I looked for a spot where I could hang out and be inconspicuous. I could take a few photos, and keep my photographer/adventurer membership card. "Nah," I thought. "Maybe next time." Then I realized that I would have to go down to the street level to catch a train going back south. Damn.
When I got to the street, I casually strolled over to a spot along the wall I figured would give me a little cover. After a hanging around for a few minutes, I realized that no one was paying any attention to me. No hostile looks or stares that said, "WTF are you doing here?" So I grew bolder, mixed in with the crowd and moved further along the street. And to my surprise, the revelers happily mugged for my camera. They figured I was there to help them celebrate. And so, that's what I did.
After gawking at all of the crazy stuff that was going on for awhile, I picked up on the vibe and found myself having a good time. Getting caught up in the crowd's joyful exuberance, and the level of acceptance I felt, took me back to another time, more than 30 years ago.
I was in college and my best friend, Terry, told everyone in our circle that he was gay. I refused to believe it and pleaded with him to hang out with me, and run the streets, and chase women. But no; he refused to play that game any more, and our friendship fell apart because I felt betrayed. Eventually, I came around and accepted him for who he was, even though we would never party together again. That was OK. He was still a smart, generous guy who loved to laugh, and my mom adored him, and he was a true friend.
Terry loved everything about Los Angeles. And when he decided to move there, me and his cousin helped him pile his stuff into his car, and we took a cross country road trip. As soon as we arrived in L.A., we washed up, changed clothes, hit the strip, and partied; just like old times.
Unfortunately, things didn't work out for him in L.A. AIDS had just come on the scene and no one knew about the new threats to the gay lifestyle. A few years later he came home and, as his friends and family watched, this beautiful guy slowly withered away and died. I haven't thought about Terry in a long, long time. But I thought about him as I watched the Pride crowd party down. He would have loved it.
It's a good thing to take a chance on people who are from a different tribe. You'll probably meet some new friendsand have a great time.
Cardell Phillips is a freelance writer in Chicago and you can read his blog at talesofthewindycity.wordpress.com .