Globe Corner Blogs

While I always expect a little madness when I visit New York City, I did not realize, getting off the five hour bus ride from Boston to New York, that this particular Sunday was the culminating event of Gay Pride week: the Pride Parade. This alone would, under normal circumstances, have the already hot, crowded city buzzing a bit louder than usual, but the middle of the World Cup (Germany vs. England and Argentina vs. Mexico) also fell on this weekend. This meant that both admittedly rowdy crowds would be celebrating and I would be going along for the ride.

Arriving early Sunday morning around 3 am, I cautiously navigated the subways and buses to get to the apartment in Brooklyn where I would be staying for my two-day vacation. Six very short hours later, friends awoke me with bagels with cream cheese and my absolute favorite drink: the honey and cumin coffee from Brooklyn Label (to soften the early awakening, I’m sure). They proceeded to inform me that we would be venturing to the very heart of where the Pride festivities would take place. I was skeptical, mostly because I planned to spend my visit camped out in a Brooklyn bar watching the World Cup, but I agreed, never turning down a new, potentially exciting experience. (Also, people watching is one of my favorite activities and this promised to be a prime people watching opportunity.)

Sleepily, we headed to the West Village in Manhattan to see the parade at its epicenter, getting caught a few times along the way by cheering Germany fans. Upon arrival, glowing turquoise Uruguay Soccer jerseys, clashing with costumes of sparkling peacock feathers, welcomed us to the proudest and most crowded version of Manhattan I had ever seen.

We walked along the packed streets to find a good people watching spot, Lady Gaga blaring from seemingly every corner, and settled on the very end of the parade route where we could watch smiling, sequin-speckled dancers disembark (most continuing to dance right into the street) from their florescent floats. In the same area were several bars hosting anxious soccer fans, including Cowgirl, a restaurant and bar that serves a delicious array of frozen margaritas (which is an especially exciting find when outside the temperature approaches one-hundred degrees).

Though my friends and I remained fascinated and entertained by watching each very proud group pass, the call of air conditioning and an icy margarita or a cold glass of local beer was too much to resist. We made our way from place to place, fighting our way down the packed streets, finally finding ourselves in The White Horse Tavern, rich with history, however lacking in seating. Tired, we again braved the streets (our journey now seeming much more challenging than we had previously intended) only to stumble upon Kingswood, a cool, relaxed bar, worlds away from the stifling heat outside. And the best parts? Gathered at the bar were only a dozen or so other heat escapees–and the inventive cocktails the bartender concocted.

By this time nine o’clock was fast approaching, and back on the street the eager celebrators showed no signs of halting their festivities. Though our group agreed that we should stay and celebrate on, our feet were tired, our eyes heavy, and a thick layer glitter coated our hot skin, so we headed back to Brooklyn to watch a movie, order in sushi, and put our feet up, proud that we had survived this long, crowded day.

Read more: Brooklyn, Gay Pride Week, New York City, Travel, West Village, World Cup


Betsy

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