It was the most bizarre thing. Pittsburgh is a rough and rugged city. Its people - known as Pittsburghers - are hard-working folk descended from steel workers. So it came as a surprise when I learned that Pittsburgh - America's Steel City - held its annual Pride in the Street.
You know, gay men, lesbian women and all those in between.
They were all dancing and drinking in the street. Not exactly IN the street, but rather ON it. Oh hell, you know what I mean. Anyway, people from all walks of life were there. There were straight people who were curious to see what an old gray-haired man dressed in leather looked like. There were young boys dressed in speedos and sneakers with flashing lights by their private parts. There was confetti, there was a stage, there was music.
And there were porta potties. These are always wonderful thinks of rank proportions floating on rivers of urine. Gotta love it.
I ended up going into a bar with some friends and chatting to a guy who is originally from Syria. He introduced me to his girlfriend and ten minutes later he was passed out on a leather sofa. We think someone ruffied the poor straight guy so a few of us had to pick up this passed out guy and carry him through the club, down the stairs, along the street and to his girlfriend's car.
Now let me tell you, a passed out guy is NOT an easy thing to carry. Think of a giant, heavy, wobbling mound of jelly. And that's what it's like. Arms and legs everywhere. You ask him to pick his head up. No reply.
Not fun, I tell ya.
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