No, blog. I did not mean “anthrax on.”
Last Saturday, our friend Erin invited us to the parade at Anthrocon, AKA the furry parade. And by “invited us,” I mean that Erin said they were going and I maybe invited ourselves along.
It was such a great day. We had fun with Erin and family, even though her son was being an asshole (more about that here), and I’m super happy we went, even though it was a rough start. Unfortunately, we had to drive through Kenny Chesney concert traffic to get there. American flag shirts/hats/shorts, Bud Light, and day drinking led to a vague sense of discomfort as we drove through the usually somewhat progressive North Side.
We finally got through that, though, and made it downtown to what I affectionately refer to as the Pegasus garage because it’s next to what used to be a gay bar (named Pegasus) I went to in my youth.
As we parked and walked towards the convention center, my sense of doom started to leave. I don’t know what kind of crowd I expected, but it was so…familiar. I told Erin it felt like Pride. I saw other gays, mostly younger soft butches in fun t-shirts.
It was a good feeling to be in a crowd that was there to support people being themselves. Like, I may not feel a compulsion to go full Anthrocon myself, but I fully support anyone who needs to be a little “different” to be their true selves.
It was a great, welcoming, wonderful experience. Thanks for sort of inviting us, Erin, and sorry I called your kid an asshole?