Judge Walker delivered his decision on the case about two seconds after I decided that there was no point waiting by the internet in suspense, I should go the hell and take a shower. After that, it was all squeeing. I was too nervous to actually eat lunch, although I did have a cup of the moderately vile chocolate-flavored hemp-based protein drink I picked up at Trader Joe's in the hopes that it would serve well for just such occasions.
IRC was a-buzz, despite the general prohibition of politics in #dreamwidth. ##crawl-offtopic was less restrained.
Sadly, the chatter became moot when we discovered that there was a stay on the verdict, at least until Friday. So there wasn't to be an emergency wedding -- at least not until later.
I had it in my mind to leave early, but I wound up taking so long with my eye makeup that I was merely leaving on time. At some point in the nebulous past (probably 2008) I bought a little bottle of eyeshadow fixative. I decided to do fabulous, over-the-top eyeshadow, which is not at all my usual way of things. I did each eye with the pink-purple-blue bi pride rainbow, complete with glitter, then made to brush over it with fixative. But I got too much on my brush, and wound up fairly pouring it over everything, washing a lot of the eyeshadow off my eyelid and down my face. My eye was none too happy either, watering and woeful. So I washed it all off and started again. This time I was more careful, and dabbed it on gently, applying a little more eyeshadow on top when it looked like the fixative had thinned the layer. I was going for fabulous, not subtle. Over the top, I put iridescent glitter. I didn't do much with the rest of my face, just lipstick and glitter gloss. (I don't do foundation or anything for pretty much anything but a job interview; it would have all been destroyed by the march.)
I applied pink to one half of my eyelid, going all the way up to the eyebrow, and dark blue to the other half, then put purple over the line in the middle, to take up about a third of the space. I used two lighter shades of blue, going into the teal, on the outside edge of my eye, beyond the lashes. I used a multicolored set of shadow I recently got from Claire's, and some glitter that's been clattering around in my kit for a while. The glitter may have a few types mixed in. I continued the glitter on my cheekbones.
In addition to the eyeshadow and lipstick, I pinned my braid up in a bun, stuck my fascinator in my hair, and wore my Loud Pink Scarf, which is almost as good as a hair-on-fire boa.
I nearly started crying on the train.
I encountered a few people going my way on the platform at the Civic Center station. We greeted each other with enthusiasm and cheer. We didn't know each other. On the crowded train, I high-fived a little girl with a rainbow-striped hoodie and a rainbow flag almost bigger than she was; she asked me if I was heading to the march. Yes, yes, I was. We saw each other in the parade later.
There were Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. There were same-sex couples of all ages. Someone handed me a sign referencing the Loving v. Virginia case. Someone handed me an American flag. I collected stickers. I spotted someone with a "BLOGGER" sign in his hatband, and fist-bumped
chipuni, who recognized me by name: we know people in common. I held the sign facing traffic. The police kept having to push us back off the street so traffic could get through. There was a truck with a sound system, but it was aimed at the crowd down on Castro, not up on the streetcorner. People were taking pictures, video, of everything. People snapped pictures of me. Two different reporters took my name. One asked me where I lived, how did I feel. Great! Proud. My aunt called in the middle of it all with a question about laundry; I shouted back at her so she could hear me over the noise; she told me to enjoy the party, and she'd see me for the Farmers' Market if I was awake in the morning. I started crying at a few points. There was singing. There were more American flags than rainbow ones, even in the Castro. Some people were wearing rainbow flags as capes. I got a few compliments on my eyeshadow. I kept on holding up the sign and the flag and smiling. I was surprised that my face didn't get tired. JD texted me to ask where I was. I made my way through the crowd to their corner, then called to navigate precisely through the masses of people. They were both in SAFETY t-shirts over their long-sleeved shirts. We waited for the parade to start and kept clear of the streetcars. JD insisted that Teshi and I simply must watch Cazwell's "Ice Cream Truck", which elicited equal amounts of giggling and staring from us, peering at Ryan's Blackberry's screen, sharing a pair of earbuds, one for each of us. A woman with a tiny girl in arms walked past; I passed along the pink beads I was wearing.
The parade started out with the truck, blasting music. I fell in behind it. I wasn't sure if I was going to keep up with the parade, as I walk slowly, but I reasoned that I could start out near the head of the parade, walk as fast as I comfortably could, and drop back; if the parade left me behind, I could simply walk to the courthouse on my own, a one-woman parade.
We got the entire half of the street as we marched down Market in the direction of the courthouse. Cars honked. Pedestrians waved and snapped pictures. One guy was driving along with his cellphone stuck out his window, naughty naughty. A streetcar driver rang his bell for us. We cheered and waved back, waving our flags, our signs. There was a huge rainbow flag. One girl wasn't feeling the cold because she was drunk. People waved from windows, from the upper story of a bar. I sang: at first to the truck's music ahead, then, when I fell back out of range, I sang snatches of "We Shall Come Home" to myself quietly -- this was a homecoming, not a protest. Then I switched to "James Bondage". A fellow with a guitar came along, singing "Going to the Courthouse", and I sang along with him. We kept pace for a while, and eventually people around us joined in. Going to the courthouse of love.
My feet hurt, a lot, so I found a place to sit down. It was starting to get chilly, and sprinkling a little. I still wasn't ready to go home, not after the high of the rally and parade, so when the follow-up rally let out, the four of us (Jed, Jed's other internet buddy, JD, and I) headed to the Castro. Jed biked, and the rest of us took the streetcar. We chose from equidistant stops based on the concept that the earlier stop would mean better seat selection. Frank Chu, who had been visible throughout the parade, wound up on our streetcar. There was a general party atmosphere, with people chattering away cheerfully on their cellphones, people on the street waving to each other, cheering at the sight of flags and signs.
We debated bars until I declared that I was going to need Actual Food, and thus we wound up at Orphan Andy's. Tech talk and gossip ensued. After eating, we made our way into the Castro, where I promptly ran into Mike @Handler and boyfriend, who were just heading out. The bar debate started up anew. The truck with the sound system was back, and louder than ever, though they declared that it was about time to call it a night. It was in direct competition with the second-story living room party, which was hanging out a "HAHA WE WON" sign (the Castro is ever tactful and subtle) along with the Lady Gaga at earsplitting volumes. JD scoped out bars and found that Badlands did not have a cover charge, so we went there.
JD had a Long Island Iced Tea. I went for a strawberry cosmo. We became separated in the crowd. JD hit the dance floor. I found a stool at a table and started catching up on Twitter and making drunken commentary, then pulled out a notepad and started laying down some outline for the crackfic I am totally not actually writing. (Having the time of my life, Azz-style!) One drink is sufficient to entertain me for quite some time.
Jed figured it was probably home-time. JD and I caught the L from Castro station, and JD told me where I'd need to get off to Muni to Daly City station (L to 19th, 28 to Daly City). I got there without incident, but did find myself caught up in the conversation between two high school or college aged girls, about a class involving discussions of racism where they felt their teacher was being Wrong On The Internet. I tried to spell "kyriarchy" for them, failed at spelling out loud, switched to paper. One of the spellings I wrote down was correct, I think.
And then home! And ibuprofen! And a hot washcloth across the face to remove the eyeshadow! And sleep, in a soft soft bed.
Crossposted.
