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It's a Gay World After All - 2003
Written on 06.08.03, at 10:50 am

dizboy's disturbing daily diet...

It's Sunday morning...in the past 24 hours I have eaten:

1 $7 Bacon Cheeseburger

1 $2 Small Sprite

(Gotta love Disney prices)

1 Grande Chai Latte (forced upon me)

Many Bottles of Water

1 "Tremendous Twelve" Breakfast

(3 eggs, 4 strips bacon, 4 pancakes, 1 potatoes worth of Hash browns)

3 + 4 + 4 + 1 = 12


Teaching rednecks math since 1958.

John Live*


Sunday Morning.

Gay Disney Weekend.

Totally. Defeated.

*Not at all live...  

And that statement is true. 

I am a total wreck...it's not at all pretty. 

It's like an Amtrak rolled over me, then backed up to see what it had hit. 

There is crust in my eyes from having my contacts in for nearly 24 hours.

There are sad impressions in my hair from falling asleep on it. 

There are bags under my eyes which would make Louis Vitton sue for patent infringement. 

There is a funk coming off me from not having showered since 9am, Saturday. 

There is acid rising in my stomach from the plate of grease, cleverly disguised as a breakfast that I ate at 4am.

There is the imposing feeling that I have had only 8 hours of sleep since Friday morning. 

There is the decisively un-flattering farmer's burn...not farmer's tan, but burn...on my neck and arms.

The blisters.

Oh, the blisters.

And to top it all off...

There's the realization that I wouldn't have it any other way.

Gay Days 2003 is in full swing, and I've been in the thick of it. 

Quote of the weekend:

"I'm just totally gayed out...I can't take much more."


From the Colosseum party, where a drag queen named Power Infiniti closed out the evening at 2:30am by riding a giant fiberglass elephant on stage with 15 dancers, silk acrobats, pyrotechnics, and confetti...

To the Magic Kingdom, where 40,000+ gay men and women filled the park, decked out in their red attire, creating a sea of crimson gaiety, singing a tuneful "It's a Gay World After All", and making most of the heterosexual couples realize that they are, in fact...not in Kansas anymore. 

There's the Beach Ball, where once the sun set, 6000 gay men...and one or two women...stripped down to the most revealing bathing suits they could find, and had full run of the Typhoon Lagoon water park until 2am. 

And here it is Sunday morning. 

The Lord's day. 

Once I rouse Nick, who seemed to have had a good night, as he got in after I did...which was 6am...

Once I rouse Nick, we will be off to our standing appointment at Dexter's of Thornton park to partake in the holiest of traditions...

$2 Mimosas. 

Others will...slowly...join us. Soon we'll be stepping on top of each other to relay the stories of the weekend to that point, and discussing what our game plan for the Finale Ultimo - The Stars Party - will be.

Why all this excitement?

Why all this hoopla?

Why all this ballyhoo about a weekend of queer life?

Well, because, that's why. 

"Gay Days, eh? Well...why don't we get a straight day? What's that all about?"

You do get a straight day...

A few, rather...

Your wedding day. 

Tax day, when you file a joint return. 

The day you adopt your baby daughter. 

That day when you don't get called a "faggot" while walking to class. 

Those are your "straight days", so enjoy them, because you have them.

Let me just...ok...whoops...all right, there we go, I'm down off that pedestal. 

Anyhow, Gay Days this year has brought a projected 140,000 people to the area, and millions of dollars in to the local economy. 

For the actual event...this is year 13. 

For me...this is year 7.

People do ask what all the hype is about, and really, it's this...

New York, Los Angeles, Atlanta, San Francisco, Chicago...etc...

They all have fantastic Pride celebrations, parades, gigantic festivals celebrating, well...whatever it is that we celebrate. 

We here in Orlando have none of that...as our "Pride Month" consists of a pitiful parade that may or may not make the human interest story on the cable access newscast.

So, in place of those festivities, we have Gay Days. 

Unofficially, it's our Pride celebration, contrary to what Orlando activists would have you believe. 

And what a Pride it's been...

On Thursday, Nick and I went shopping...to stock up for the weekend. 

I, for some reason, decided that my body would look good in 2(x)ist underwear, and purchased a few briefs, some tank tops...

...and a thong.

Yes, ok...I bought a thong. 

And I, um...sort of like it. 

Thursday evening, Nick decided that it was time to be Martha Stuart. 

As Josh, John, and I watched Will & Grace, Nick slaved away in the kitchen, preparing what he said was to be the official "Gay Days Confection".

An hour later, he presented us with this...Careful, it may be too gay for some audiences...

If you're confused as to what you're seeing, those would be rainbow frosted penises. 

Rainbow. Frosted. Penises. 

And you wonder why my banner says:

Friday morning we went to the Gay Days expo, which is basically a big, gay, trade show. 

Businesses, either queer or queer friendly, show up, and peddle their wares to the golden children...The Gays. 

They...they are the smart ones...the businesses who know that they can make a killing selling kitsch to the demographic with the largest expendable income out of any other. 

Finished, we headed home, bags full of free condoms, stickers, and other accoutrements of homosexuality. 

A quick nap later, we (Josh, Nick, and I) were readying ourselves for "Colosseum V", the first major party of the weekend. 

Decked out?

Sort of.

The theme was "Circus Eroticus", so I decided to push the trashy factor up just a little bit.

One square-cut tank top, some waistless jeans, and a black thong later, I was ready to roll. 

Friday evening, it had started to rain...a subtle foreshadowing as to the rest of the weekend.

With the rain, the walk from the parking lot at CityWalk to the Hard Rock Live venue was like the Trail of Tears.

Trail of Queers.

Mary's and Rhoda's running for their lives, so as not to disturb their carefully placed coiffures. 

Only to find that once they arrived at the building, they were not letting people in.

This was about an hour and 1/2 after the doors opened, and the Hard Rock Colosseum had already reached near capacity. 

Recipe for Disaster:

-Take six thousand homosexuals, break off five hundred of them who have paid $85 for a party, and tell them that they are not allowed in. 

-Throw in a clueless Hard Rock staff, sprinkle with rain, and bake in anger for 45 minutes. 

It really wasn't pretty. 

Really, really wasn't.

My credentials allowed the three of us to slip in through the back, but once inside, there wasn't much we could do but get sweat upon. 


The entire setup was unbelievable...I had seen it during load-in, but not in full show mode. Lights, smoke, sound.


If you happened to be near a speaker, the hair on your arms and neck would stand up. 

Here's to earplugs. 

Let it be known, here and now, that I...John...did not drink alcohol but once this weekend. That one time being a shot at home to kick off the festivities. 

I may as well have, though...

Water - $4.00

Gatorade - $5.00

I was drinking Gatorade, and bought it without remorse...

Best not to think about it, I thought. 

"Five bucks even."

I peeled off five ones. 

"Now, will the bottle blow me once I'm done drinking?"


"I said have a good night."

We somehow made it onto the dance floor, and just joined in as people grinded away all around us. 

Josh and I were dancing, and Nick had made a special friend who had taken an interest in him. 

We were in our own little world when I looked over to see the boy that Nick was dancing with lick his index finger, touch Nick's chest, and make the "Ssssssssss" noise as he said "Ooh, hot". 

I turned back around to look at Josh, who had the same incredulous look on his face that I did.

"Did he just...?"

"He did...you saw it too?"

And we laughed, and laughed, and laughed. 

A few minutes later, and Nick gave the "I'm through" sign, which was to turn around like he was grinding up against the boy, raise his eyebrows, and sneer slightly. 

"Oh, hey...we have to get back upstairs."

A quick goodbye to hombre caliente, and we high-tailed it upstairs to the VIP area, where we could escape his sizzling digits, and weed-killing feces breath. 

We stayed upstairs until the show was over, and then at 2:45am, sweaty and tired, made our way home.

Saturday morning came early. 

At 8:00am, we woke up, after getting to bed near 4am...

We would be leaving for the Magic Kingdom at 9am sharp.


That never happens, really. 

At 9:45, with Danny and Jason in tow, we departed for the long standing tradition of red shirts, and theme park rides. 

We arrived at the park with high spirits...the sun was out, the day was nice, and there were thousands of homosexuals of all varieties around us. 

Riding the Monorail to the park, you can't help but laugh when you look out, and see red upon red upon red...teeming masses ready to kick it Tigger-style. 


I had just walked in the gate when...

"Excuse me, sir, could I please read your shirt?"

The Walt Disney World manager looks at me, then the shirt, then back at me.

I knew what was coming...

He was torn between his responsibility to ask me to please turn my shirt inside out, and his sworn duty as a homosexual to tell me just how god darned cute I looked.

"The shirt is...marginal" he told me, "But I'd rather you turned it around because of the word."

"Oh, that? Don't worry...they say it on ABC." I said.

He started to protest, telling me that I could change in the bathroom just around the corner.

"I'll get right on that." I said, and proceeded into the annals of the Disney flagship.

Main Street had a little show going on.

Two, rather.

One was the trolley show, with the paid Disney performers singing and dancing in their little costumes.

The second was the troop of Bears in daisy dukes and Minnie Mouse bows greeting people as the entered.


"What? Oh...sure."

I had forgotten about this little snapshot, but Danny bought it on his way out.

That would be Jason, Danny, Me, and Nick.

One of these things is not like the other.

Oh, it's me...with jeans on.

I DON'T wear shorts.

Even in Florida.

Even in 90-something degrees.

Bathing suit? Yes. That's different.

It just...is.

This year, like my last five, no one else had my shirt on.

At least no one that I saw.

The second time I went to Gay Days, I had bought a cute little red shirt from what was then Structure.

Well, the rest of the world also had the same idea, and I was mortified to see that at least fifty other people were wearing my shirt.

Shallow? Yes.

But I vowed then and there to not again have that happen, and to date, it has not.

This is because I go out of my way to find a shirt that I feel no one else will have.

This year, I even went so far as to ask every associate in the store how many people they'd seen purchase my shirt.

But it was worth it...I think I looked a little cute, if I do say so.

Towards mid-afternoon, we met up with Carly for a quick meet-and-greet with the lesbian consortium.

At three, after successfully navigating most of the major attractions, I had to take my leave, so that I could prepare for the night ahead of me at Beach Ball.

Stay tuned for the rest of the weekend...coming soon...

Be well...


Your Host and Emcee...dizboy.

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