So, the Sydney Mardi Gras Parade is sponsored by the Gay/Lesbian Associations here in New South Wales. It started as a unifying event and has now taken over a decent part of the city for the entire day. It is incredible, and of course, FABULOUS!!!
Becky, Mu, and I took up post at Oxford and Crown Streets a good 3 hours before the parade was set to start. Good thinking. It gets crowded fast. "People watching" at a G/L-Mardi Gras is an event in itself. Bunnies, fairies, angels, brides, bikers, and slightly questionables are out and about, loud and proud. I love it! A day where you can be you with rainbow banners stating "Nations United" flying overhead.
The parade kicked off with Dikes on Bikes, followed leather-clad men on bikes, followed by some of the most gorgeous legs in the tallest stilletos complete with feathers, sequins, and crowns. One float was more colorful than the next, and the Drag Queens have legs and butts even the most confident woman would admire.
About 35 minutes into the parade I felt someone behind me, or should I say somethings- as the woman who was trying fervently to make her way to the fence was a good foot shorter than I and I could only feel a certain part of her. Her breasts to be exact, her very large pillowy breasts had taken up residence on my hips, one of eash side. I was enveloped in DD asain softness. As Becky complained of being chilly I had the warming comfort of a strangers bust wrapped around me. As the parade strutted on (I'm so jealous of the legs) my woman got increasingly closer. Now my butt is pressed up against her belly, not as soft as her chest, but hey, what can a girl do?! She is now so comfortable with our level of intimacy that she has taken it upon herself to gently move my ponytail to the side so as not to obstruct her view. With her small, slightly sausage-esque, left hand resting on my left shoulder I am now becoming irrate.
WHO STANDS THIS CLOSE?!?!!
WHO TOUCHES A STRANGER????
WHAT IS SHE THINKING?!?!?!??!
Becky and Mu are laughing, Mu is taking pictures- of the parade and of me and my woman. This goes on for about an hour and my lady walks away. I feel used, abused, love 'em and leave 'em, that's her moto. OK, not really, I'm glad to have my personal space back and continuing watching one of the most colorful and stilletto laden parades I have ever seen.As the parade wraps up a young man passes out face-down on the sidewalk behind us. Event medical staff and firefighters to the rescue. Hooked up to oxygen, the yound man is making his way back from his alcohol induced coma. As he is recovering, a rainbow haired, sparkling angel emerges from the crowd, "I'm with him, is he ok? Can I come across the barrier?" "NO" is the response. I think, if you were with him, then where were you when he was ingesting enough booze to kill a horse? Or did you not realize that his all of 125lb body, when soaking wet in a denim suit, could not handle that much to drink?? He is now drunkenly pumping his fist in the air along with the everchanging beats of the floats going by. Strapped into a gurney, he feels more secure in moving more body parts along to the rhythm of the music. The firefighters are laughing and shaking their heads as if to say, "you stupid drunk fool". I am also laughing and shaking my head and saying out loud, "what a stupid drunk ass".
With the parade over, and the party to end all parties comencing at the other end of town, we walk back to the train stop. Metallic confetti, rainbow flags, trash and glass bottles line the streets. Pink Australian flags hanging off the shoulders of everyone is town ushers you back to a transit stop.
Ah, Mardi Gras, it's spectacular, even when it's not even close to Fat Tuesday.
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