On the Train

Image:  Facebook

On Sunday, wearing a rainbow shirt, I boarded Seattle's light rail. The train was packed with other Pride-goers, along with assorted Seattle Mariners fans.

At a downtown stop, a 60-something straight Australian couple got on, each wheeling a suitcase suitable for a month's visit to North America. My fellow sardines and I began to chat, and it turned out they'd watched some of the Pride parade.

"This is nothing compared to Sydney's Pride," he said, which he explained is full of floats. I told him I'd heard that was true, and I'd love to see it in person someday, but as Seattle was enthusiastically celebrating its 50th Pride, he might not want to say that too loudly.

I asked them about their travels, and he raved about Alaska's mountains. "Okay," I said. "You've got the Pride, we've got the mountains." They agreed.

Afterwards, as I walked toward the parade, I marveled that the concept of LGBTQ Pride has grown so big and so international that I would find myself good-naturedly comparing celebrations with heterosexual tourists from abroad.

Harvey, Bayard, Barbara—you wouldn't believe it.