Thursday, June 29, 2006
Something Pretty
My mom called me yesterday to remind me about our car insurance premiums going up because of my little fender bender last summer. Angry as I am about the $400 coming out of my unpaid-intern salary, I feel somewhat better in the knowledge that at least it was (if such a thing exists) a noble car accident.
I was driving to work when I saw the three picketers, only a few blocks from my house. I don't remember the exact words, but it was something in the vein of "homosexual," "evil" and "sin." Surprising, because I live in a very liberal community. I didn't meet my first Republican until college. I was so caught up in my shock and disgust at these poor ignorant souls that I forgot I was driving and promptly ran into another car. Damn. Mad as I was about the ruined fender, though, it was something else making me still shake with anger as I lay in bed that night.
Last Sunday, trying to walk north from Soho up to Union Square (for a date with Sober!!! She had to come in from DC because she just missed me so much), I got stopped by people traffic. I can tell I'm getting closer to a Real New Yorker (caught up in my own mission without any thought or attention paid to the rest of the world), because it took me three blocks to notice all the rainbows and triangles. Duh, I'd stumbled onto the Pride Parade. Cloudy skies and a constant drizzle weren't enough to keep about ten hundred million people from their celebration. Last summer's three picketers seemed like nothing more than a tiny (albeit horribly obnoxious and unnecessary) mosquito in comparison with the strength and energy emanating from the masses lining Fifth Avenue. I tell you, the hope pulsing up and down the street that day carried me straight into sweet sleep come bedtime.
Labels: Lion
