San Francisco Gay Pride Recap

We started out the day with a marvelous brunch with friends who live in a beautiful house with great views of downtown San Francisco.

The company and food were fabulous which saved us from (1) actually bothering to go to the parade and (2) having to eat overpriced booth food.

Yes, we travelled all that way to the City and didn't even go watch the parade. We decided that the parade is merely the route most people take to get to the festival. We did have it on the television while we ate quiche and drank mimosas. Or maybe it was a re-run of last year's parade. It's hard to tell.

We did head down to the festival after the brunch. As expected, everything was pretty much set up exactly how we left it last year and the year before.

Without any expectations of a memorable moment, I actually had one. NFL football player, Esera Tuaolo, belted out a beautiful song at the Asian/Pacific Islander stage. And then, Robert and I caught him as he was leaving to take this photograph.

Esera is an inspiration. After a successful football career, he came out of the closet and he's been a vocal advocate for equality since then. He and his partner have two adopted children. Their family is so adorable. I even joined Esera's fan club, so I was very pleased to get the chance to meet him today.

To San Francisco Gay Pride We Will Go

Once again we are going to San Francisco Pride. I've probably been to Pride 10 times out of the 15 years I've been out. I should be invigorated and inspired to join hundreds of thousands of people to celebrate our freedom and rally for equality, but I find myself dreading it.

We're going to a brunch at our friends' house (the good part) and then heading to the parade and festival (the part I'm dreading). After waiting in a 20-minute line to pee in a Fiberglas hut, eating a $6 teriyaki chicken thigh on a stick, I'll shoulder through a boisterous crowd of hundreds of thousands for several hours, returning home exhausted and sunburnt, leaving any feelings of invigoration and inspiration way back on Market Street. Staying home, working the Sunday Times crossword sounds much more appealing.

Not all "the gays" go to San Francisco Pride every year. Someone has got to keep the rest of the Bay Area fabulous today. Contrary to popular belief, it's not an obligatory annual pilgrimage. No one's taking attendance, anyway, so they can't confiscate anyone's gay card for missing the event.

I'm one of those people who tries to keep expectations low, so if we see something truly fascinating, it'll be doubly rewarding. If, as I suspect, the parade and festival will be surprisingly similar to every other San Francisco gay pride parade I've been to, I won't be terribly disappointed.

Last year, we made the effort to squeeze ourselves over to the main stage to see one of the headliners. A free concert with a band I've heard of is kind of a treat. But now I can't even remember what band it was, but I do remember that they only played two songs I'd ever heard of, and the acoustics at the Civic Center were atrocious. At least it was something to look forward to.

I checked the billing to see what I could anticipate for tomorrow. Well, it's slim pickings. Danny Glover is one of the bigger names. He'll be on the main stage, but I have no idea what kind of act he has. Will he narrate a documentary film?

Jennifer Beals is one of the grand marshals, but unless she gets out of her convertible and pulls me over the barrier to teach me how to flashdance, I can't get myself excited about that.

Other grand marshals include a friend, Robert Bernardo, announced as "the first openly-gay Jewish, Filipino commissioner in the City of South San Francisco." Really? The first? Well, it's about bloody time. Thank you, Robert, for breaking down the walls for all the rest of the openly-gay, Jewish Filipinos aspiring to serve as commissioner in the City of South San Francisco.

We'll go around the festival and probably run into some old friends we haven't seen since, well, we bumped into them at last year's festival.

There. I think I've sufficiently lowered my expectations.

A Triumph at Bay to Breakers

I have neglected to write about our experience running in the Bay to Breakers in May. If you haven't heard of it, Bay to Breakers is a quintessential San Francisco institution, a 7.46 mile race from the Embarcadero to Ocean Beach.

The race is famous for the centipede teams and outrageous costumes (and lack thereof). I think I saw about three dozen naked runners. Fortunately, the majority of them were in pretty good shape. The most surreal moment of the day came right at the beginning of the race when I saw a naked guy with a disposable camera taking pictures of other people.

If you know me well, you may have heard me say that I run "only when chased." Running hurts. That high feeling runners describe? That's never happened to me. In high school, when the football coach made us all run one mile after a long, hot practice, I finished dead last.

When I exercise, I typically need to have the duration and intensity of the regimen imposed upon me to some degree. That is, I'll walk 30 minutes on the stair climber because I only have to make the decision once, as I enter my preferred program. I can finish an hour long yoga class, because once I've started, I feel committed to finishing.

Running outside or on a track is a different story. I am constantly fighting the urge to stop. Every step is a new decision. While some people hum or breath to the rhythm of their pace, I am chanting, "I must stop. I must stop. I must stop." And I usually do.

But for some reason, I got motivated to train for this race. After two three-mile runs in the hills at Stanford, I felt I could actually run the majority of the 12 kilometers. As it turned out, I ran most of it, and only walked when pains started shooting through my knees.

Another tradition, for some unknown reason, is to throw corn tortillas at the beginning of the race. As we made our way to the starting line, we walked on top of a huge blanket of corn tortillas. Quirky, but a clear falling hazard.

After the grueling Hayes Street hill, the rest of the race is a steady decline which works for me. Once we entered Golden Gate Park, every crappy garage band in the greater Bay Area had set up a street performance every few hundred yards. The urge to get out of earshot provided a good motivation to keep on running, but I don't think that was their intention.


To motivate myself, I tried to keep up with an Austin Powers guy (one of three I spotted). I figured I should at least be able to beat a guy in a crushed velvet leisure suit. And then I determined that I would not be outpaced by a guy who was pulling two kids in a Radio Flyer wagon. Later, I set my eyes on the red-pajama-clad Thing One and Thing Two (and a superfluous Thing Three and Thing Four). To my delight, I beat all four of those little house-trashing creeps.

My time was 1 hour, 30 minutes, exactly. It may not sound impressive that I finished in 13418th place, but that doesn't account for the fact that we didn't cross the starting line until 25 minutes into the race. To put it another way, about 47,000 people finished behind me, and that ain't bad.

The trippy part was watching a replay of the race on television later and seeing the Kenyan guy who won. While he finished in under 35 minutes, he and I were in the same race. We ran the exact same course. You don't get that in any other sport. I can't plop down 25 bucks and play in a baseball game with the New York Yankees or race a car with an Andretti.

After the race, a number of people were promoting future runs. I actually feel like I want to do this again. Yesterday, I just bought some better running shoes. Am I a convert? I don't know about that. But next year, I want to beat that Harry Potter and all those Elvises.

The U.S. military still thinks gays are crazy

The Associated Press reported today that a Pentagon document classifies homosexuality as a mental disorder, decades after mental health experts abandoned that position. While the rest of us have moved on to debates about gay marriage, the Defense Department still thinks we're sick in the head.

Next, they'll discover a document that reveals that the Pentagon believes that masturbation causes blindness, that Milli Vanilli sang their own songs, and that drinking Pepsi after eating Pop Rocks will make your stomach explode.

I was never in the military, but after talking to a few people who have served and after watching the HBO special, Baghdad E.R., it's beyond me how this old chestnut (as Dick Cheney called the military ban in 1991) survives. When you see doctors, nurses, and orderlies working in the green zone hospital, you can see that it's a job, albeit a very dangerous and stressful one. It's a workplace, and I can't understand why anyone would care if there was an out gay man or lesbian working there.

Dear ol' Dad

Hey Pop,

One time, when I was about 12, I got so mad at you I swore that I would never, ever speak to you again. It had something to do with a sibling squabble where you, rather uncharacteristically, blamed me without due process. As has been evident, my pledge didn't last long, and I've got to tell you, I don't regret that a bit.

You know the quote from Mark Twain: "When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years."

Well, I never thought you were ignorant, but it did take me awhile to realize how fortunate I am to have such a stand up guy for a father. I've been thinking about some of those things you have done that annually put you in the running for a "World's Best Dad" trophy. Like when you came to Dad's Day at my nursery school (I love that picture of me cutting our pancakes while you looked on, sitting in a chair intended for a four year old). And when you carved my pinewood derby race car when I was a Cub Scout, guaranteeing victory in the competition and my first trophy. And all the family camping trips we went on. And all the goofy jokes you told us. And all the fishing lures you tied for me, knowing they'd soon be stuck to a log a the bottom of the lake. And when you took me hiking to Horseshoe Lake, just the two of us. And when you chaperoned my junior high school Valentine's Day dance and performed fake wedding ceremonies. Though you made me cringe, my friends always thought you were so cool. And when you took me to see The Blue Lagoon, my first rated R movie. And when you helped me with my physics project which involved dropping a bowling ball and a softball at precisely the same time to see which falls faster. And for coming to all of my football games, band and choir concerts, school plays, speghetti feeds and talent shows. And the way you accepted me when I came out and how you've welcomed each of my partners into our family.

And a thousand other things you did to make me into the person I am today. But for the record, my brother had no right to change that channel. I was watching that.

Happy Father's Day.

Hometown Buffet of the Seas

One of the reasons I had never gone on a big cruise before is the very fact that people rave about all the food. Some boast that they will order two entrees at a time, or if all the desserts look good, they'll order all of them.

Here on land, buffets are bad news for me. I'm so cheap, I feel like I have to get my money's worth. And if there's something really tasty looking, I have the urge to try it. My best strategy is to stay away completely. Once last year, a gourmand friend invited us to celebrate his birthday at the Super Buffet. I showed up to greet the celebrant, but immediately left without eating.

But once we decided to take the Atlantis cruise, I resolved that I would enjoy myself, try to get some exercise, and make healthier choices.

We did okay. It could have been worse. We did make it to the gym, but when we realized there was no buffet line in there, it lost it's luster.

We discovered the "Aquaspa Cafe" that served healthy, light entrees and desserts. One late afternoon, we enjoyed a couple of these entree plates and a healthy dessert or two. We found that these plates served as a delightful appetizer to preface our five course meal at the main restaurant.

By about Wednesday, I started to ask myself whose idea it was to pack all these tight jeans that barely fit me before the cruise. I feared that by the end of the week, I'd be wearing my gym sweatpants to the buffet line. My stomach seemed to be expanding to the size of a Mylar balloon. Five course dinners no longer left me feeling bloated. By midnight, we had enough room to stop by the late night buffet. I had completely reverted to old eating habits.

It was with great trepidation that I stepped on the scale when we got back at home (on an empty stomach and bladder, stark naked, of course) to assess the damages. To my delight, I hadn't gained any weight.

Which left me thinking, if I can eat like that and not gain weight, why have I been denying myself five course dinners and chocolaty desserts?

But alas, I have to factor in the fact that on the ship, we were on the go all day long and went to at least six dance parties. We canoed and went on a couple of nature walks. That's quite a bit more active than my typical routine of sitting on my rear for nine hours a day in front of a computer screen.

As soon as we boarded, we even signed up for a yoga class scheduled for Saturday morning at 9 a.m. It sounded like a good idea at the time. After dancing 'til dawn on Friday night (We're not as wild as that sounds--sunrise was at 2:30 a.m.), we ended up waking up at 11:30. Even if we hadn't lost an hour from moving back to Pacific Daylight Time, we never had a chance.

Float plane adventure in Juneau

We were in Juneau at the dock getting ready to board a sea plane and this guy from our ship said, "The air here is so much thinner than back home in Texas. We're from Dallas where it's only about 500 feet above sea level. Here, it's like 5000 feet."

Yes, he really said that.

We're in Alaska, but I think most people have no idea where that is. I think most people on this ship think Alaska is a big island down and just to the left of California and bordered by a thick red line. And that Hawaii lies right beside it, which begs the question, why don't we just take the ship for a little day trip to Waikiki and get some mai tais. Goodness, it's only a half an inch away. Well, I'll tell you why we can't do that. It's because of that red line.

There was a straight couple getting on our plane with us. They were from another cruise ship. They were telling us that the weather for them has been terrific. I asked them if they've been having all of their T-dances on the pool deck, but she didn't quite understand the concept. She said her ship is mostly older folks and that she is old enough to be my mother. She thought I was young. Let's just bask in that for a moment, shall we?

We got in the plane and the pilot was pretty casual. He said one of the passengers could sit in the co-pilot's seat. I was not comforted by this. This ship has people on it who think the sea plane is taking off from 5000 feet above sea level. I do not want them to be my co-pilot.

The pilot quickly went through some safety precautions, told us where the exits were and, importantly, where the barf bags are. Another passenger asked if we were supposed to turn off our cell phones. He said, "Sure." Sure. Hmm. What does that mean? He asked again: "So we're supposed to turn them off?" "Sure." OK, then. I guess I'll turn it off. I don't want my cell phone to trip up that altimeter into saying we're at 5000 feet above sea level. We've got that guy from Dallas for that.

We're back!

Our Alaska adventure was grand. I'll post some photos and musings in installments to avoid overwhelming you and me.

The highlight of the cruise was flying over the Juneau snow field and some glaciers. Here are a few of those photos:

Going up to Alaska

In an unusual move, I've been packing for a trip a full 18 hours before the departure time. That's only because we're leaving for Vancouver tomorrow right after work. On Sunday, we'll be aboard the Celebrity Infinity for a cruise to Alaska. A gay cruise, no less.

The cruise company announced that there will be a special guest on board. We've made some guesses: Megan Mullally (promoting her new talk show), Margaret Cho (because she's a party animal), or Sean Hayes (has nothing better to do; vying for permanent gig in cabaret lounge).

As we're packing, we're watching these young whippersnappers in the National Spelling Bee. I've concluded that I'd only be a decent speller in Hawaii. And that there are quite a few words out there I've never heard. And that advanced spelling is a fairly useless skill. Perhaps, I'm suffering from weltschmerz. I suppose there ought to be a least a few living humans able to spell these words.

Sorry, loyal blog readers, for such a lapse in entries. I've been busy, and my laptop had a major malfunction. I have a little bit of advice for my friends: back up your hard disk. Recovering data from a hard drive is expensive. Now I've got a fancy new external hard disk to sync to.

And more good news. My laptop, which used to take at least five minutes to boot, now is ready to roll in about one minute.