Mardi Gras 2005

Sydney's Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras 2005 is now history. I had a pretty mixed weekend, to be honest, starting out with a big night on Friday with Peter and Kevin from Melbourne (great guys) and a few of their friends. We hit a few bars and had plenty o' fun along the way. Obviously I drank way too much, as evidenced by the fact that Saturday was spent fighting a headache most of the day. Moan. Groan. Damn those orange Bacardi Breezers. They truly are the devil's work!

Saturday evening I pulled myself off the couch and to the city to catch up with the boys for the requisite viewing of the parade. What. Ever. Mary. Despite its reputation as one of the world's foremost celebrations of gay and lesbian decadence independence, it was unexpectedly disappointing. Holy bummer, Batman.

I've seen a Sydney Mardi Gras parade before, in 2001. I'm not sure if this time just wasn't up to snuff because:

• My best friend Suzie wasn't there to share it with me, like last time.
• Or I've become more and more jaded over the past 4 years.
• Or I've come to realize that much of the "gay experience" hasn't been working for me over the past several months.
• Or my feet and back hurt like hell from standing for hours in the middle of a crowd (numbering 450,000) that really limited my ability to move and keep blood flowing to my appendages.

I suspect my ho-hum response to the event resulted from a combination of all of the above. Regardless, for people who have never been exposed to anything like this -- ever -- it was obviously entertaining. Jeepers, everyone else sure seemed to be enjoying themselves tremendously! Obviously I've just turned into an unimpressionable old queen : )

After the parade was over, the boys went to the Mardi Gras Party at Fox Studios. I had no real interest in going, so hadn't purchased a ticket. Instead, I sourced out some much-needed foodstuffs (ahhh, Subway always comes through in a pinch!), and batted around the idea of waiting in line for one of the clubs on Oxford. In the end, I realized that I'd be queueing for an hour at least, and I was better off heading home for some handy-dandy sleep. So my Mardi Gras Saturday night ended at 11PM with me crawling into bed and falling fast asleep.

Sunday rolled around, and I felt fighting fit. Heading to Oxford mid-afternoon, I hung out at one of my favourite watering holes and just enjoyed hours of listening to cheesy music and watching totally messy people. Very entertaining to be the only sober one in a bar filled with sloppy sorts! I ended up being pursued by a nice guy who ended up hanging out with me for a few hours of drinking, people-watching, and chatting. Eventually, he proclaimed himself in love with me and in the midst of making mental notes so that he could recite the precise details of our meeting at our 20-year anniversary party. Hmmmm. Not convinced. Still, he was nice enough and certainly knew how to dish out a compliment.

Me: "But how can you be in love with me when you don't know anything about me?"
Him: "I just know. I've never met anyone who takes my breath away like you do. And it's not just a physical thing. You've got no pretense, but you've got a genuine nature that shines from your heart."

Or so it went something like that. And it didn't stop there. Ironic that, after 15 months living in this place, I meet someone who values me for character and integrity and not for the labels I'm wearing (or not wearing, in my case). Who cares that it's mere days before I leave here? Who cares that it was a slightyly-strung-out-on-E-and-majorly-intoxicated fella? Sometimes it's just nice to hear, even if it's in the unlikeliest of circumstances.

At any rate, Jon was fairly surprised that I planned on going home instead of to his place. But I happily ended my Mardi Gras weekend at 10:50PM by curling up in bed and promptly falling asleep. Weird dreams followed, but that's another post entirely!

Although Mardi Gras is promoted as an epic weekend, I just don't think I was in the right frame of mind to enjoy it properly. If I know one thing, it's that "mentally moved on" is an oft-visited place on my travel itinerary. I think this weekend proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that I've found myself there yet again. As a result, I'm not surprised that my time here in Sydney is ending with a whimper, not a bang.

Work visa, come through soon. Pleeeeaaaaaaase.