We flew into LaGuardia. On the flight there, we sat in the very back row of the plane, which wouldn't have been a big deal had I not had to sit next to a 400-pound man who I'm convinced was a member of the Russian mafia. His girth was such that putting the armrest between us in the down position was an impossibility. At least that meant that his love handles were constantly touching me the whole flight.
As soon as I stepped off the plane, I could see that New York City is indeed a melting pot! In the airport alone, I saw blacks, Jews, Italians, gays, and women. You just don't see that kind of thing here in the Midwest. Who knew it was possible to see all of them in one place? Only in New York.
We rented a car and drove to my grandma's house, arriving just in time to change and head over to the church for the memorial service. My dad gave a speech entitled "Little Dogs, Tough Broads, and Butterflies" that longwindedly and almost accurately described my grandma. Also in attendance were my brother, my 2 aunts and uncles from that side, and 3 out of my 4 cousins from that side.
After the memorial service, we all went back to the house, where the grandkids were all given various random items that my dad and my aunt had found in the house that they thought would be funny to give us, such as hats, golf crotch hooks aimed at keeping your head down through the swing, and cassette tapes. Then everyone went through the house and figured out what we all wanted. Little did I know that my decision to take the antique cast-iron meat grinder would come back to haunt me.
Sunday morning we woke up at 4:30 Eastern/3:30 Central so that we could get to LaGuardia in plenty of time for our 8am flight. All was going well as we were breezing down the Merritt Parkway until we came around a curve to see several cars at a dead stop behind a huge tree that had fallen across the entire southbound side of the road. There was no way anyone was getting around this thing. After impatiently waiting for about 5 minutes, we turned around and followed some cars that were doing what any good New Englander would have done in the situation: drive the wrong way down a highway to the last exit. We were driving in the right lane, with as much on the shoulder as possible. At one point, the cars in the right lane going the right direction failed to yield, so all of the cars going the wrong way had to veer into the left lane. Luckily the previous exit was only a couple miles back. So we got off and followed some livery van that Jessie was sure was taking us to Massachusetts via the many windy and poorly marked roads in Connecticut. Alas, the guy was just going down to Stamford to get on I-95, which was exactly what we needed to do. We got to LaGuardia about an hour before our flight.
A word to the wise for all of you travelers out there: despite what you may have heard, the Transportation Security Administration does NOT encourage you to travel with a cast-iron antique meat grinder. At LaGuardia, after my bags passed through the x-ray machine, one of the TSA employees said she had to look through my bag. While she's opening the bag, she asks, somewhat coyly, "Do you have a meat grinder in there?" I, of course, said "yes," since I did. "Okay," she says, "Well, I'm going to have to see about that." So she takes it to her supervisor, who apparently gave it the OK, although it was strongly suggested that I refrain from traveling with said meat grinder in the future (as if this was a normal traveling item -- who knows, maybe they thought I was Abe Froman, the Sausage King of Chicago).
We sat in the first row on the flight, and the entire flight was plagued by a flight attendant who couldn't speak to her fellow flight attendants in a six-inch voice and who wouldn't shut her damn trap for more than a couple seconds at a time. Thus, sleeping on the flight was relegated to short, sporadic mini-naps. REM was not achieved. Apparently this woman's godawful voice did not distract the pilots to the point of suicide because we arrived safely at 9:02am (Central).
After getting back to the hizzie, Jessie and I decided to take Harley on a walk and stop at Dunkin' Donuts at the corner of Halsted & Diversey, where I purchased my second DD breakfast sandwich of the day, tying my personal record. The floats for the Gay Pride Parade were lining up on Halsted, which was apparently more than Jessie could take, so we decided to head over to the parade. Some guys in my fraternity a couple years younger than me were having a "pre-pride-parade party," so we stopped by there for a drink, then all headed to the parade. Jester and I thought it was particularly appropriate for Harley, since we're certain she's a lesbian.
Having never been to any sort of gay pride event before (much less a parade), I wasn't sure what to expect, although I figured whatever it was would be fabulous. I learned that, if there's one thing gay people love, it's being gay. It was raining (not raining men) during the morning before the parade, and I'm sure many conservatives were gleefully awaiting the following headline on FoxNews or in the National Review: "God Rains on Gays' Parade." Without a doubt, it was the gayest parade I've ever been to.
A friend of one of the aformentioned guys who had the party
was in town from Kansas, where they don't have gays or transvestites. He seemed to be particularly smitten with the parade. At one point, he had his picture taken with a tranny, hoisting it into his arms. And this was not the kind of tranny who you look at and say, "I'm not gay, but maybe after a few blueberry daiquiris I can overlook that Adam's apple." This was a fifty- or sixtysomething tranny in less-than-perfect shape with an obviously fake blond curly wig, who was wearing a black undergarment of some sort on the outside of her person, along with black fishnet stockings showing off its thick thighs. Nonetheless, it seemed all too natural for this kid from Kansas.
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Would you say that this parade set back the mainstream acceptance of gays by 50 years?
(Note: This would have been funnier had the Onion's archives been more reliable.)
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