The Pride I almost Died

Two days after my shoulder surgery was the Fort Lauderdale Stonewall Gay Pride Street Fair. To say I was feeling under the weather would be a huge understatement. Besides being in pain I was also week and dizzy. NOT a good time to go the event mentioned above.

So, of course, I went.

Friends of mine were having a little brunch (complete with frozen margaritas) and I really wanted to hang out with them. It was HOT as hell that day (like it always is during any outside event in South Florida) and by the time I got to the place I was already almost passing out. A couple of frozen margaritas later and I was feeling a little better. Well enough to attempt to walk the 6 blocks of the fair and end up at Rosie's restaurant and bar where the Pride Tea-Dance event was being held.

Unfortunately, after walking about half a block, it was clear to me that I was NOT going to make it. My truck was parked farther than Rosie's so the lesser of the two evils was to make it to Rosie's and pass out in whatever friend's arms I might find waiting for me there. (Of course, no one could actually take the time to slow down and walk... I mean shuffle with me.)

• After 1 block I was white as a ghost and severely overheated.

• After 2 blocks I had bloody blisters on my feet from the freakin leather sandals I was wearing. (I only wore them because I couldn't actually tie my shoe laces yet.)

I sat on the sidewalk for 15 minutes to recover and then I continued my journey.

• After 3 blocks I was so week and dizzy and the sky was swimming above me.

Another 15 minutes on the sidewalk and I picked my weak ass off the ground and continued to trudge along. Mind you, the whole time acquaintances were walking by, saying "Hello", giving me the "Oh my God... what the fuck is wrong with you?!!!" look, and then walking away.

• After 4 blocks the pain from my blisters was so extreme that it actually took focus away from the pain in my shoulder and distracted me from the need to pass out.

Another 15 minute break on the sidewalk. This time I was just tempted to curl up in a ball and wait for vultures to start swooping down and slowly but surely put me out of my misery.

• After 5 blocks I could see Rosie's and the tent with the Tea Dance where all of my friends were having a great time dancing and drinking. I felt like Dorothy when she finally woke up from the fucking poppy overdose and saw the Emerald City on the horizon.

I'm trudging along, shuffling my the bloody stumps where my feet had been only a short time ago, and as I look up there is my friend Matt Rush. As I say "Hi" to him my photographer friend Patric (from PornForPatric.net) grabs me and says, can I take a picture of the two of you?

NO!!!! What the fuck are you an idiot?!!! I'm white as a ghost, sweating like a whore in church, covered in stubble because the freakin nurse at the hospital shaved some pagan sign into my chest, loosing gallons of blood from the bleeding blisters on both of my feet, covered with bruises, razor burns and bandages. NO YOU CAN'T TAKE A FUCKING PICTURE!!!!

Of course, that is what I thought. What I actually said was. "Ummm.... I'm really not feeling that well right now. I think I'm going to sit this photo out."

To which, he promptly grabbed me by the arm (thank God not the one in the sling!), shoved me next to Matt, snapped a photo, and wandered off.

Ugh.

The results of that lovely photo shoot can be found at the top of this post. There is Matt looking tanned... and buff.. and tall... and healthy... and beautiful. And there I am looking as close to death as possible without actually being dead.

I never actually did make it to Rosie's. Instead, I fell to the ground, pulled out my cell phone, and called my ex to pick me up and drop my limp body off at my truck.

I guess things could have been a lot worse. A month later, my shoulder doesn't really hurt that much, my blisters have healed, my hair has grown back, I have some color, and I don't feel like passing out. I'm still short but I can live with that. Most importantly, I can look back and laugh at the whole event. Ohh... AND I got a nifty blog post, complete with disturbing photo, that will no doubt be picked up by other bloggers and porn websites and fuel a rumor how I am either dying from some horrible disease or hooked on drugs. Nice!