"They sound just like firecrackers..."

Favorite moment of many: we're Marching down 5th Avenue, passing St. Patrick's; there, behind the barriers, are the protesters. In the old days, you could count on red-faced screams of rage; clenched fists; signs quoting Leviticus, and the like; now, there's just a man wearing priest's vestments he probably got in a costume store, and a dozen huddling mundanes clutching signs with tired slogans, looking as though they were waiting for a bus. We call out various mocking greetings; as we head down 5th Avenue, I call out in my cheeriest, most carrying tones, "Thank your mother for the chicken soup!"
Marched for the first time since '99 today; saw many people I hadn't seen in ages (hi, boymeat), and caught up on lives that diverged from mine awhile back. Got to wave my freak flag; got to call out encouragements to passersby; got to remember how things used to be, when the world and I were different. An amusing, enlightening, sunshiny smile of a day; all I could do was nod happily as I would look up and down Fifth Avenue at the men dressed as women, the women dressed as men, the cops offering cheery smiles to people they would've been arresting a generation back, the rows of balloons, and the dog wearing a ruffled skirt as dance music thumped in the background, and think God, I'm glad New York City is back to normal.