Frankfurt CSD & More

Whilst my dinner plans fell through (my colleague never showed and I did not have a handy with me), it turns out that this weekend is Christopher Street Days in Frankfurt—and my hotel, which I inaccurately called a “seedy hotel” was actually quite nice and just a block from the main stage for Friday’s beer guzzling festivities in the heart of the city.

I enjoyed watching the crowds and dodging the raindrops (and for the first time in a long time, somebody was interested in me who did not repulse me, but we lost each other in the crowd and I didn’t see him again). After standing on my feet too long, I headed back to the hotel to rest.

Later in the evening, I headed back to the stage—and watched an American perform her favorite songs for pride. They were all the best self motivational hits you could imagine—I felt like I was in Kindergarten listening to old favorites like “wash your hands after pooping,” but instead with lyrics like “being gay is ok.” (All the lyrics were in English, and, quite frankly, I don’t think the performer spoke much German beyond “Vielen Dank.”)

I guess I’ve moved beyond the stage where I need songs that enhance my self-worth. I’ve moved on to Madonna.

Despite my bitching and moaning, I have to say that she was better than Fredrick Ford, the porn-star performer that attempted to sing and do his best hits for Indy Pride.

After I got tired of the pop-song motivational hits, I wandered off to The Stall, Frankfurt’s best known leather bar, where I had a couple of beers and wandered through the darkroom. I find dark rooms to be immensely amusing and interesting, but, relatively speaking, not really that exciting. It was amusing to watch the behavior of guys in the dark—until I realized I was standing in the line to get a blow job from some dude kneeling on the floor a meter or two ahead of me.

By about 1, I’d had enough and went back to my hotel where I promptly fell asleep.

Saturday morning I picked up a copy of the new Harry Potter book at the Frankfurt train station. I’d managed to restrain myself until 7:45am to buy it, unlike the masses of people (including some I know) who waited in line at bookstores around the world. After getting to the airport, checked in and to my gate, I read the book, much to the envy of a number of people who hadn’t realized they could buy the book in Germany in the morning.

I had a double connection, which turned out quite nicely—and I started reading the book immediately on the plane, after swapping seats with a Christian so that he could be with his Christian brothers. This worked out for the best because I ended up next to a really cool French-woman who was reading the book as well. We had a really good time from there to Memphis—although in Memphis the immigration computers were down (supposedly they were down nationwide), and our early arrival resulted in us cooling our heals in the basement of Memphis’ airport. With a two hour connection, this wasn’t really a big deal.

From there it was a quick hop, skip, and jump to Indianapolis and then down to Bloomington. My home for another week or so.