(Maybe it's a good thing I'm not going to Burning Man.)
As we walked toward the crowds my scowl spread across my face and I couldn't help it.
Lochlan pumped my hand in warning. Stop it, Bridge. Smile.
I hear generic techno, I reasoned. Who smiles for that?
All of these people.
I look around. He's right. Everyone is smiling. You can't tell me all of these people like this kind of music. I'm judging. I'm generalizing. That's the very worst thing I can do here. That's the very worst kind of person I can be here.
Just think, Peanut. I'm sure some cheesy eighties stuff will find it's way to your ears soon enough.
Okay! I smile. I just hate techno!
Me too! A man with a rainbow mustache and suspenders with no shirt hands us lollipops as he goes by. He laughs and blows kisses as he disappears into the crowd.
I blow a kiss and laugh and then hold it up. Okay! Candy! I feel better!
Give it away, Bridge.
That sounds like a Chili Peppers song-
It's an edible-
It's weed, Bridge.
I look at it. Oh. I smile really wide and hand it to a really pretty boy passing me. He has even more glitter on than I do. Happy Pride! I tell him. He grins and tips an imaginary hat.
We wandered up and down for a couple of hours. People-watching was great. The costumes were fantastic but there seemed to be more people without costumes there to stare. Dancing was fun once the music switched over to more disco-y, groovy stuff. Blondie. There wasn't enough of it but it seemed to be the perfect soundtrack and Lochlan was right. We wore ourselves out. We had some pizza and water and piled back into the truck to come home around midnight. Lest we turn into rainbow pumpkins. I could do that every night if it wasn't so hot and smoky. What fun. What glorious fun. So much love. So many hugs. After the first three dozen the boys stopped being so overprotective and started being more open-minded too. We learned from each other I guess. By the end of it I was the techno-queen. Just don't tell anyone, because I don't like techno.
But that wasn't the fun part of the night-
And this isn't what you're thinking-
According to Daniel and Schuyler (who do this way more than I do and I'm suddenly far more jealous than I should be) the best way to remove glitter is to use baby oil.
So we had bottles of baby oil spray at the ready at home. Out at the end of the lawn as far as the hose could reach. And we took turns spraying each other all over with baby oil and then turning the hose on each other until we all looked like vaguely greasy, glittery, somewhat worn-out rainbow warriors up past our bedtimes. Daniel and Schuyler gave us inappropriate tongue kisses and went up to the house. Matt and Sam said they were headed inside to talk (CROSS YOUR FINGERS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE), and Ben and Lochlan and I continued to fight with the oil, glitter, water and body wash until we couldn't get any cleaner even though we didn't feel very clean at all still, tossing around further ideas like paint thinner, acetone or an autoclave.
Lochlan said he told me so.
About what? The glitter? I'd do it again.
Yeah, so would I.
So what did you tell me so?
That you looked amazing.
Topless people generally do.
It was the smile.
I've been told my fake I-love-techno smile is the best.
They're right. It is.