Portland Gay Pride 2010

Oh, Gay Pride. A magical day in which homosexuals young and old spring from the bushes of every Oregon county like the munchkins in the Wizard of Oz. Fags, dyke's, and bears, oh my! Wake up outsiders, you're not in Gresham anymore.
After waking up in Tonya's ultra plush red lace bed, and the two of us reliving the previous nights drunken antics involving the Reverend St. James and his free prophecy, I boarded the 14 at Felony Flats. Upon arriving in downtown and scavenger hunting for a Wells Fargo ATM, I waited for Ragin Megan at Voodoo Doughnuts. Where the line went completely around Berbati's Pan. What Portland won't do for a doughnut...myself included.
By the time my Bacon Maple Bar was devoured,  Ragin Megan had deboarded the max at Skidmark fountain. I made my wake through the Day of the Locust crowd at Saturday Market until she was found. Decked in purple in black with rainbow eyeshadow. Crossing the hectic crosswalk, and hugging the radical fairies who were advertising FREE HUGS outside the festival, we had arrived over the rainbow.

Inside, the festival was just how I had remembered it two years ago. Our first stop earned us a Portland Gay Yellow pages and an advertisement tattoo. Much higher excitement was to our right, at the Under U for men stand. So many pairs of underwear at half the price, my heart nearly gave out to cotton. But was revived by the powerful hormones of the Under U4 Men model. Who was kind enough to pose with me as well as Ragin Megan.
More walking brought us to many fantastically artistic and real estate savvy stands. Stand upon stand, Megan and I collected a treasure chest of lube and condoms. And stand upon stand did we sign up for free plane tickets, free hotel rooms, and free sex toys.

We ran into Baby Troy, Katrina Bettencourt, and an old high school chum, Sabrina Ashcroft. We ran into Mr. Gay Oregon of 2010, who was graciously classy, and willing to pose with me for the camera. I also posed with two bathing suit beauties who run a burlesque show.
Due to the eye popping red t-shirt I was wearing that states: "Everyone Loves an Asian Boy," my attention was drawn to a stand promoting the ways and gays of the Asian GLBT youth, who were taken in by my chest's apparent wit.
We stopped at the Portland Leather Alliance stand, whose information was recited to me by a man who was clearly the slave in any future relationship he might be having.
We were both drawn to the Fantasy for Adults only stand where Megan and I were given gift bags. My bag contained his and hers lube, and Megan's contained a vibrating bullet. And I still cannot get the image of a vibrating man ass sex toy out of my head.

While listening to the sounds of a drag queen in a purple bra who sang a gritty rousing rendition of Prince's Purple Rain, Megan and I were treated to a free massage by a man with powerful hands and features. It wasn't so much a massage, as much as it was an exorcism on my back, neck, and arms. When he was finished, my face buried in his chair, he seductively whispered in my ear, "Thank-you Christopher."

We stopped at a stand that had what I believe to be the greatest collection of strap-ons in the world. Strap ons resembling dolphins, whales, and lizards. They also had Penis tiaras. Hello Kitty vibrators. An incredible array of buttons.
I donated a dollar to the charity held by the Oregon bears. My reward was a big, sweaty, bear hug. Sweet as it was, I made a swift escape before the bears made could make me their otter.
Megan and I were taken in by a Kilt stand. In which I got to try on and model an amazingly butch camo kilt. My measurements were taken, and I was given a card with a website where I can order my very own fitted kilt.

Making our way back to where we entered, we once again passed by the Under U4 men stand in which a new, much hotter sexier, underwear model was standing. He posed with me as well, my right hand pressing deep into his musky chest. Under U should stand for Under U.
And so we were done. I kicked myself for being such a masochist last year, when I boycotted the entire gay pride establishment. Self hatred therapy aside, today it felt good to be gay again. And though it may not last long, today was all that mattered.
Until next time fruit loops,
this is Cereal Man,
draining the bowl of gay.