Friday husband Niks and I went to a movie, You and Me and Everyone We Know. It's an offbeat, indie movie. We have this sweet little theater across the river that shows movies that don't ordinarily come to a small area such as the one where we live. Heck, many big cities just get the big movies. Most of the films shown at this alternative movie house are no completion to the big theaters around here, because the general public has no interest in them. In fact, the seats in this theater were donated to them from the bigger movie houses here. I still have to smile when I think of that.
Just the same, this little place has shown some movies that ended up being big successes. Things like My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Abd The Man Who Wasn't There, and In the Bedroom. Those movies were all nominated for Academy Awards, but weren't box office draws before they were nominated.
Well, this movie, You and Me, etc. isn't anything to write home about. Why, I wonder, am I boring you about it? Maybe I'm not boring you, 'cause you aren't even over here reading this blog. That's okay. The movie was nothin' so why should you be over here readin' about it? You shouldn't be.
Niks liked it. Some guys. I'm surprised he thought it was good, because after all it wasn't in a foreign language or subtitled or anything. He usually just likes strange, foreign movies. He volunteers at our local library one day a week, shelving the audio-visual stuff, you know, DVDs, like that. He brings home about four movies a week. Offbeat stuff generally. That's okay since I don't care that much about watching TV anyway, but then he gets hurt because I don't want to sit with him and watch these things. If he's trying to keep me off the PC, he oughta bring home better stuff.
Saturday I was a "Silent Witness" at the Gay Pride Festival In Harrisburg. Straight members of our church volunteered to be sort of a barrier between the fanatical "Christians" and the members of the gay community who were just trying to come to a festival and enjoy themselves in peace. Not askin' people to approve, just leave 'em alone.
I had fun. It was pretty hot, but not as bad as some years. I don't know why the festival always has to be in July, but it is. Anyway, the event is held in the park along the river. Beautiful site. The entryway where I was stationed was near the music, and the music was great. So I lucked out.
As luck would also have it, I was stationed near a young anti-gay man who paced with his Bible, yelling at the gay folks coming into the festival. He told them that they were going to hell, etc. That God hated them. Like that. Very Christian.
Then he decided to start in on me. Now, I was a SILENT witness. I was not supposed to engage these lunatics in conversation. And I didn't. I'm used to being yelled at, from my days as a volunteer escort at the clinic that provides abortions for women who need them.
I can keep my mouth shut. Teeth clinched. Smile frozen in place. I look cute that way.
This guy told me that of course I'm going to hell. Like I didn’t know that? He asked me if I thought that God loved whores. I think that Jesus loved Mary Magdalene. He asked me if God loved people who had sex with animals. He felt the need to go through the list of various animals. "Does God love people who have sex with a horse?" Huh? What the $%#^ is he talking about? He actually named about every perversion a person could think of. I'm worried about his sexual fantasies. Seems a tad unhealthy. Think maybe I should tell his mother. Maybe the one holding the sign about fags is his mother.
When I got a 30-minute break, I strolled through the festival itself. That's always fun. Most gays just look like anybody else, because they are just like anybody else. So no one paid attention to me. At first. Then I got a big, I mean really big, blue shaved ice. I say blue because I don't know what "blue" is supposed to taste like – maybe blueberry? But it just tastes blue. Anyway. People start smiling at me. What the heck? I'm cute. They should smile. Mmmmm... turns out my lips are blue, which someone finally mentions to me. I'm cute alright.
Then later after I've done another shift at the gate, and my lips are no longer blue, I'm at last leaving, walking down lovely Front Street, past the hecklers, and who should appear but the sex manic carrying his Bible? Whoooo... I'm no longer a silent witness. I could speak, if I care to. But instead I stick my tongue out and down, making it as long as I can, a la the singing group KISS, and show him my very, very, blue tongue. He actually jumped. Thought I was possessed I guess. I had checked out my tongue before I started walking to my car, just in case I was given this wonderful opportunity to amuse myself.
Before he could recover and say something evil to me, a police PADDY WAGON drove up. Seems the hecklers didn't have a permit for the bullhorn they had been using, and they were violating the area restrictions that they had been given in writing. They had been warned several times. Now a very scary-looking police sergeant was reading them the riot act, LOUDLY, and another policeman was filming the entire thing.
I whistled all the way to the car.