high and proud

Still

I had almost forgotten about the pot caramel I ate when it finally kicked in, with a bit of a whoosh, and suddenly the world slowed down around me.

I had just purchased a hand-rolled corn dog, with thick crunchy batter on it and a little cup of ketchup to dip the hot dog in. I’m not usually a hot dog kind of guy, but something about that particular dish at this particular time sounded perfect. I had had a few bites, but when the pot started working, I sat down promptly in the grass and ate the corn dog, slowly, and it felt different on my tongue. It was delicious, and there was nothing in the world besides me and the corn dog.

Then I remembered I was at the Pride Festival in Seattle, Washington. I looked up from the empty corn dog stick in my hand and realized there were thousands of people around me, and I got a huge smile on my face. I closed my eyes and let it wash over me for a while. Deep bass from the speakers on the stage nearby, sounds of laughter and chatter, an entire sea of people making sounds, and I could feel those sounds in my ear canals, in my veins, in my toes, the echoes of them all vibrating within me. It was wonderful.
My fingers felt the blades of cool grass between them. There was a small patch of sun on my right forearm that resonated there. The air felt cool against my skin. I forgot the sounds as I focused on my skin and how it felt there, then, now.
I’ve only used pot a dozen times or so, and it’s always been at home, generally on a night after I haven’t been sleeping well for a few days. I’ve grown to enjoy the way it just relaxes the mind, makes the world still, and makes me sleepy and cuddly and smiley and relaxed. Usually I’m on my couch with some sort of show playing off in the background, and I just lay there smiling until I fall asleep.
But this time I’m in public. I ate the caramel on my walk over to the festival, where I had planned to be with friends. But I couldn’t find my friends, and they weren’t answering texts, and it took the caramel a full 90 minutes to kick in, and now here I was, on a Sunday at 3 pm, high in a park full of people. People were drunk and high all around me, but this was just me in my own relaxed little world.
After a half hour or so, I stood up, and just watched things for a while. Then I felt myself following one instinct at a time, focused on nothing but that instinct, with only a gentle awareness of the rest of the world around me. I wanted to be closer to the music, so I meandered my way through the crowd until I could be close to the stage. I didn’t want to dance, I just wanted to feel the bass up closer. So I did. Then I watched a group of men dancing, and I stood there smiling, enjoying their movements and the joy they were finding in being there. Then I wanted to be closer to the large fountain in the center of the park, so I worked my way there. I let the cool mist of the fountain blow against my skin and I watched the people playing in the water, many of them naked there in public. I remember thinking that took Pride to an entire new level. Then I wanted to be closer to the Space Needle itself, so I worked my way through the crowds and dogs and bikes and people to that direction, and I found a nice concrete step to sit on, and I looked up at the grey-blue sky and admired the massive structure, which had the Pride flag, six colors in a patterned rainbow, flying on the top of it. The whole city was celebrating Pride.
I let my brain travel back in time for a moment, losing itself in history, and I remembered all those LGBT people who came before me. Kicked out of the military, boarded up in mental institutions and given shock therapy and chemical castration tablets, being sent to reparative therapy, being kicked out of homes and churches and businesses and apartments, being told they weren’t normal and natural and that they needed to be cured, being put in prison and put to death. I thought of all those who grew up in shame, who grew up in pain, who learned to hide themselves in plain sight. Then I opened my eyes and saw the flag waving, and I scanned the crowd, seeing each person there individually in that vast swarm of people. Living, loving, celebrating, dancing, eating, laughing, smiling, proud to be alive.
And my smile grew even bigger somehow as I lay back on the steps, grateful to be alive.

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