Pride!

     There was a torrential downpour, an unexpected dance for a drag queen with excellent hair, an exceptionally long train ride, a little stalking, and some really bad subway.

    I went to my first pride fest! As noted above, it was a loaded experience. Like most trips to Chicago, my roommates and I thought we had it all planned. We knew which train to get on, where to get off at what time, and where to walk from there. We were incorrect. What actually happened, instead of a smooth journey to the festival, was this: three college kids got off of one train, realized they were in over their heads, and began following anyone in rainbow attire in hopes they were headed in the same direction. 

    A good walk, some light stalking, and a second train later, we arrived. It was beautiful. There's just something so special about seeing people finally able to freely be who they are and celebrate that. Everyone was dancing and so happy. There was just a feeling in the air that we could all really feel. It was incredible. 

    We found ourselves in the audience of a drag show (Which was incredible, I might add). The woman leading the show eventually asked for volunteers to come on stage. Something, I still don't know what, must've come over my introverted self because I found my hand was raised... She called me to the stage along with a few others and I looked out onto a sea of faces far larger than I expected. The crowd had grown exponentially since we first arrived, and I became a little nervous. Not quite as nervous as I became, though, when she announced we would be participating in a dance competition. I then felt like maybe I should take of running and not turn back. One by one, contestants went center stage, my heart beating a little faster with every new dancer, knowing my turn was coming. 

    I can't dance. Not at all. It's not visually pleasing when I do. I'm not fun to look at. Seeing no way out, though, I strutted up to center stage and flailed around till the music stopped, hoping what I was doing maybe had a little comedic value in the least. When it was all said and done and I was safely back in the audience, I was glad I did it. Did I look fabulous? Heavens, no. But I did something I found to be rather terrifying and I made it out with a pretty fun memory. 

    Not long after the show, it started to downpour and my friends and I spent the next hour or so huddled under what ever ledges we could find, till we found a booth selling ponchos and decided to make our way back. It was a long way back. In the interest of keeping this blog post shorter than our journey home, let me just say that we got on the wrong train, rode to the opposite side of the city, boarded another train, rode all the way back, got off, got lost looking for the next train, eventually found the station after a cold walk in the again pouring rain, and headed inside. 

    Once inside the train station, cold, wet, and hungry, I ate some really bad subway and we all boarded our final train home. 

    Looking back on the day, nothing really went as planned. I spent far more money than I anticipated, my stomach still hates me for the subway food, and I came home with very wet shoes, but I don't think I would trade any of it. All of the misadventures made for a day I'll never forget. The festival itself was beautiful and a wonderful experience- something I plan on attending for many years to come. I met some really sweet people that allowed me to stalk them for a couple hours so we could get where we needed to go and I learned that life really doesn't always have to go as planned for it turn out just right.