After care-a-lot, I drove back to St. Louis to meet up with Dustin. We got a room for two nights in our favorite little B&B in St. Louis. It's a little old brick house right by an abandoned brewery.
Originally called the Grozdik brewery, they wisely changed it to Falstaff before it closed.
Neither of us had really been to a pride fest before.
For those of you not in the know, a pride fest is where tens of thousands of gay folk converge for a weekend to be happy about being gay.
Our biggest shock was how many lesbians were there.
Now, my sister being a lesbian, I've had plenty of exposure to them. Every time I come to see her in St. Louis, we end up at a lesbian bar in St. Louis. And I've got to tell you, some of them scare the shit out of me. Some have got bigger wienesses than I. And a lot of them are angry.
One night I watched an entire bus load of lesbians, brass knuckles and all, get off the bus and immediately start a fight.
Gay men don't do that. Why beat up someone you might sleep with?
At pride, the lesbians each had their own pack of lesbians set up around a cooler. They all had dogs. Most had pitched a canopy of some sort. And I imagine they pissed around the canopy to mark their territory. The lesbians, that is. Not the dogs.
When it came right down to it, my sister was the only lesbian we really talked to.
Except for the taro card reader. But she didn't beep.
We both had our fortunes read.
She said that Dustin and I were soulmates. (Edit: if you need proof that Tarot cards are shit, this is it. Dustin turned out to be a sociopath who caused me enough trauma to need years of therapy) I will live a long, healthy life. I would be taking a trip by the water soon. And that my life hasn't even really begun. Apparently I'm going to be working in the same field I'm in, but will be doing something very different and will be extraordinarily successful at it.
But she did say that my mom had more troubles ahead, but she'll make it through.
The main reason we went to the parade on Sunday was to see my sister march in St. Louis' gay marching/concert band. They rocked as usual. During the year I try to make it back to St. Louis to see most of their concerts.
And you've never seen a marching band in perfect step till you've seen this band.
You KNOW that these were the little boys and girls in H.S. that were pissed when the clarinet in front of them got out of step.
It rained. It stopped. It rained. It stopped. It rained. It stopped.
Then it rained and stopped again.
All damn day.
Dustin heads back to Kansas. I head back to Illinois to take care of mom for the week.
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