SF Pride, Part Four: Remembering my Drama-Free Stance

So in starting 2011, being school free for the first time since I was sixteen, I reconsidered my approaches to life. Some (like my tendency to miss the day-to-day life, like laundry, so “busy” pursuing my bigger goals) I’m still working on, but probably the easiest change in my personal life these last few months has been learning the awareness that I am in control my life, and what it consists of.

Don’t be mistaken, it took me like 2 years beforehand of slamming my head into that wall. The first time anybody even mentioned it to me, my boyfriend at the time said “did you know that when you’re mad it’s because you choose to be?” I was, ironically, furious. Easy for him to say! I told my friends, He’s not a girl!

But when I decided to not go to school for awhile, and stayed home for awhile, I realized that I didn’t have to stay in school until I was totally finished. I also realized I was young when I stopped comparing myself to community college freshmen and started comparing myself to the world.

I also realized that since I spent considerably more time alone, I had less stories. I also found the times that made me happy, didn’t really have stories. Maybe there were jokes to repeat, but the conversations slowed much earlier on.

Folks, I was encountering the phenomenon of a drama-free life. It. Was. Incredible. Sure, I had less to talk about; but I also had less stress, anxiety, or chaos.

It made me make changes in my life for when my life does become sixteen week segments of class, people, and deadlines again. My favorite being the bitchy response, “yep, you’re right,” when I no longer want to be involved in/hear about drama or why people don’t just drop it.

This new found attitude I’ve been cultivating is some of what made Pride such a culture shock for me.

I think my cousin and her friends did what 80% of people did at Pride this year: got way too drunk and hated everybody around them for being so drunk. Before we had even found my cousin, a stranger tried to start a fight with me over wearing my backpack – as if I had intentionally worn my weekend on my back just to antagonize him. Because I was totally able to get a hostel room the night before Pride. It was fairly easy for me to laugh at him and walk away, and at the time, I had just wished I had been around people who knew me well enough to laugh about it with me.

Kay and Tina (which I will be calling her … er .. feisty friend) got into SF around ten pm. We left for Santa Cruz about three am.

Five hours. The following list happened in five. Hours. Keep in mind, by the time the first story starts, my phone had already died. Whatever these folks did, I had to, or else I was sleeping on a park bench that night.

  • We had been drinking for about twenty minutes the good ole city way … walking around, passing a bottle of straight booze and a bottle of chaser like a weed pipe. Kay decided we needed to go to a club, despite my confusion due to three free raves going on in the street. The line for the club was huge, and Kay said “let’s just cut in line. We’re sexy enough. Whatever.” I think we could have gotten away with it had we not cut to be the third group in line. So, naturally, the gay guy in line behind us got mad, and got in Kay’s face. When he started to move towards her, one of the guys grabbed him and bitch slapped him. Meanwhile, another physical altercation started in the same building at almost exactly the same time. In the kerfluffle, Kay tried to pull me in the club around the bouncer, which got me deemed shitty when I didn’t even know what the hell she was doing. Tina thought the bouncer wasn’t a bouncer and got mad when he tried to give somebody their wallet because he was obviously stealing it. We got told to “get the fuck out of his club and not come back.”
  • Two minutes later, Tina decides she seriously has to pee. The lines to the port-a-potties are huge. Tina cuts the line of one by simply walking in. This results in a fight between Tina and another gay man, broken up by myself and another gay man who said something like “can you guys settle this so I can pee? Or I will pee on you?”
  • As the drinking and the not-being-on-Castro progressed, there was what Kay described as a “playfight” over a bottle attachment water gun. I knew then though it wasn’t very playful.
  • About an hour later, there was a huge fight when some guy was overheard by Tina calling my cousin an “ugly white bitch” or something to that effect. Tina couldn’t ignore it, and then suddenly nobody could ignore what other people were saying, evolving into a screaming match of about 8 people lasting a half hour. Meanwhile, I sat somewhere else not out of fear or discomfort but mere not wanting that shit in my life, and knowing that nothing I said could relieve the mood, because nothing they were saying was relieving the mood.
  • It’s about two am, and Tina is so drunk she is picking fights with damn literally every person she comes in contact with. “WHAT DID YOU SAY BITCH” was a slogan that could have gone on her black ghetto business card. Three little hot minute fights have occurred since the last big fight. Oh, and transvestite nipple sucking.

At least five bouts of drama. In five hours. I was overwhelmed in that “not-having-Pride-fun” sense. It was definitely a huge departure from marching up to Castro hours before with such a happy feeling. It has though, while given me many laughs with my local friends, reminded me of why I don’t play those games with people anymore.


~ by Stefani Vonne on 07/03/2011.

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