A Girl...

Proof That Everyone in San Francisco Is Crazy: Parts II and III

Folsom Street Fair = part gay, part leather, part fetish. But, like all good community events, everyone is welcome, and for each guy in a leather zipper mask in attendance, there was a lady in Old Navy capris, although you can bet which type I took more pictures of.

Yet again, we made a game out of distinguishing the "real" from the "fake," although this time it was trying to figure out which guys were real cops and which guys were "sexy" cops. From the waist up it was really hard to tell; well done, gentlemen.

One thing we both noticed was that even in a place where people get extra gold stars for being unique and outrageous, there was still as much of a "uniform" as there is at any frat party (baggy shorts, puka shells, backward baseball cap) or indie concert (snarky T-shirt, battered Chucks) or country club (pastel sweater sets and matching Easy Spirit pumps). I had to remind myself to take a picture of a dude in a leather-and-metal harness, black chaps, and a hat (either a black Stetson or a black brimmed biker hat) because I almost stopped seeing them after the first five minutes; they were everywhere. It's proof that no matter how you dress, there's a time and place somewhere on earth that you'll blend right into the crowd. Unless you're this guy. This guy had too much rainbow for even the vertical 17mm wide-angle.

As for us, after a stranger groped me under my tiny skirt last year, I decided to wear pants this time, and that means there are now pictures of me at FSF that I can show my grandma. If she doesn't look too closely at the nudies in the background. I'll put the "safe" photos here for everyone and their grandmas to enjoy together, and I'll put some of the more "challenging" photos on Flickr later this week if you're interested. (It's mostly just bare butts; nothing porny, you have my word.)

Click here to get the page of "safe" slideshows.

p.s. Simon with a mohawk.

So of our weekend in company with the ecstacy, crystal, pot triumverate*, that was the meth crowd. Although one of the best things about the Folsom Street Fair is the types of booths set up in the street: among the vendors selling whips and paddles and DVDs of questionable taste, there are the AIDS awareness booths and the Don't Do Drugs booths and the Christian + Gay = Okay booths. There was even a table selling Lord of the Rings rings, so even the nerds felt appreciated. Lots of free condoms, lots of free candy, lots of people using the world as their own personal whackadoo playground, if only for a few hours.

(Bonus slideshow! I think this is the same guy who was such a hit in purple at LoveFest the day before. You should see him dance. He is incredible.)

Last year, my favorite part of the day was standing near the exit gates and watching people change out of their freak gear into their everyday clothes. Put some Levi's on over the thong, unclasp the leash and collar, take off the blue wig and slap a ballcap over the flattened side-part underneath. For a lot of people, Folsom Street isn't a lifestyle, just a warm-up to Halloween and nothing more.

This year, though, we didn't see a lot of people changing into street clothes. Five blocks outside the fair, we saw a group of dudes walking down the sidewalk in full leather gear, exposed buns and all. I can only imagine what the tourists were thinking, although I hope their kids had their faces buried in a Gameboy or, better yet, a book. I'm all about openness and acceptance, but there's an age limit, you know.

***

And finally the pot crowd. After Folsom, we hung out in a café for a few hours until it was time for our concert. And not just any concert, but my first Little Feat concert, which is a Big Huge Deal because Little Feat is Simon's "favorite" band (with qualifications depending on the day/his mood/the direction of the winds). It was also his dad's most favoritest band in all the galaxy without question, so going to the concert was kind of an initiation in a way, and Simon told everyone we talked to at the show that it was my first time seeing the band. People actually congratulated me, as if I'd won some sort of prize; funny.

Simon might protest this categorization a bit, but the best way I can describe Little Feat is "kind of Grateful Deady," in that they're old, they do the twenty-minute "jam" thing, and a trail of hippies inevitably follows in their wake. Since I'm not all that familiar with the Dead, I don't have more details than that, but I'm sure Simon will clarify matters when he reads this, declares I've done the band a horrible injustice, and assigns me homework on the intricacies of exactly whatever musical genre they fall under. Perhaps the best thing to do would be give you a sample from a seventeen-minute Little Feat song on which my boyfriend is featured on the harmonica. He hates it when I brag--especially about this--but he's really kind of a wiz on the harmonica, and the first time I talked to him after I heard him play on that CD I said, "How do you make the harmonica talk like that?" Alas, I don't have the mp3 file with me right now, so if you want a taste, email me.

Being that Simon has played with the band on several occasions (and in front of very large crowds at places like the New Orleans Jazz Festival!), after the show (which completely rocked in the way rock-and-roll should) we hung around and chatted with the band. It was handshakes all around, the merch lady gave him her phone number, and the singer (who used to be the other half of a duo with Mealoaf!) wrapped him in a big hug. I shook everybody's hand too and they were each really nice and accessible considering they're rockstars and all, but the best thing was that every one of them said wonderful things about Simon's dad, who I never got to meet.

It was quite a weekend. Parade, fair, concert, and five or six episodes of GG in between, plus a sunset run along the sparkling bayshore. Historically, my M.O. has always been to pick one thing and be really good at it--either be a couch potato and know everything about network television, or be fit and sporty and an expert on nutrition, or be really into music or really into web design or really into rainbow-striped hotpants or whatever. I liked to focus my energy into a few things and be "the best" at them rather than be just a little bit interested in and a little bit good at a thousand and one disparate things. Now, though, I'm realizing that there's something to be said for variety, especially when I'm living in a place where anything can happen--and does on a regular basis. If I ever move out of the Bay Area, I won't be able to say I didn't take advantage of it while I was here.

*Say no to drugs, kids.

Posted by Leah at September 27, 2006 08:12 PM