NOT A DAY FOR GRUMPY DUTCHMEN

Yesterday, as you should know, was the day of the big trek down Market Street.
I believe the official term is ‘Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender’ Pride Parade, LGBT-PP for short, but I’m not particularly interested in what other people do in their bedrooms (or kitchens / backyards / wine cellars) unless they make a tasteful and enchanting porno tape, and I don’t really care.
So even though it is a very important event, I'm not at all sure.
I don’t do well with long names and complicated acronyms.

BTW: by "a tasteful and enchanting porno tape", I do NOT mean anything featuring Paris Hilton or other celebrities. While I will gladly admit to being vibrantly perverse, there are still standards that must be upheld.
My eyes are also too pure and unsullied to watch anything featuring the cast of Jersey Shore, OR the real housewives.

Good clean smut only, thank you.


Our contingent was delayed along with many others because the Occupy movement had a hissy fit and blocked Market Street.
That gave a small teenage nihilist whose mother had bribed her into coming along the opportunity to see even more of all the things that bear no resemblance to Hobbits.

Spandex. Bitch boots. Ass chaps. Chains. Rouge. Spank marks.
Tutus, ruffles, ribbons. Fairy wands & ostrich feathers.
Cunning (!) balloon arrangements.

And a flabby man wearing a sock.
As well as a proud intactivist, full of himself.
I do not know to which group either of them belonged.

Nor do I want to know. Thank heavens for socks.
Intactivists should wear them too.
Or stuff them somewhere.

Because of the delays, our group didn’t get to move out with our Israeli flags and Tel Aviv dance-float till nearly three o’clock.
I had been waiting for over four hours. Never should have shown up on time.
Seriously hung-over. No breakfast or lunch. Low bloodsugar.
I absolutely hate crowds and loud noises.
I wasn't gay or happy.

Grimly bad-tempered, in fact.
No energy left, cranky, uncomfortable, and tired.


GAY PRIDE SMELLS LIKE BACON

Things were much better by five o’clock. By that time the parade was over, and I had walked past several dozen vendors selling hotdogs wrapped in bacon, served with browned onions. All of whom were Mexicans, most of them totally giddy with all the visual stimuli and music.

Months ago they left their small villages in the interior of Mexico, made the long arduous trek to the border, and crossed at night. Once safely arrived in San Francisco’s Mission District, a cousin lent them the funds for the portable grill and their first batch of sausages and bacon. Another cousin showed them how to do the work, and accompanied them on their first trip to a handy intersection near vibrant nightlife..... helped them wrap the yummy pork strips around the frankfurter..... scooped the onions off the hottest spot on the metal sheet so that they didn’t burn.....

Yesterday, all that hard work finally paid off.

All of Civic Center was designated party zone, with thousands of people celebrating.
Hundreds of sausage sellers doing an absolutely booming business.
Gay Pride smells an awful lot like bacon.
Huge amounts of bacon.

Hot greasy meat everywhere.

I didn’t have a bacon-wrapped wurst for breakfast.

Instead I went to a Vietnamese Chinese eatery up in the Tenderloin.


HẲI KÝ MÌ GIA 海記麵家
Hai Ky Noodle House
707 Ellis Street, San Francisco, CA 94109.


Seafood hofun (海鲜河粉), fried fish cake (炸魚餅), green chilies, chilled Vietnamese coffee (越南咖啡奶冰), and lots of warm tea.
The family that runs the place are very mellow. Unsurprisingly, so are the customers, who arrive esurient, and leave content.

The waitress was sweet and engaging, interested in the customers.
An elderly auntie smiled while handing over a jar of pickled jalapeños.
Heard Teochew, Mandarin, Cantonese, Vietnamese, and English spoken.
Not an extensive menu, but it's very good, very clean, very cheap, and very nice.

Hai Ky is probably the best place to be when there is a humongous naked throng near city hall. An island of noodlicious sanity in a sea of straps, lipstick, and leather paddles. It's also a great place during the rest of the year, too.
The fish balls are superior. And they have chan pei duck leg.
陳皮燒鴨腿

Dawdled over my noodles, and was happy as a clam when I left.
Totally restored to good cheer, and zipped to the eye-brows on caffeine.
When I got home after a few cocktails I completely collapsed - too tired to even post.
Which explains why there was nothing new here yesterday.
I got caught up in all the gaiety.
I'm better now.


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