Full Frontal: To Make a Long Story Short (14 page)

The same company that made the balloons for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade agreed to help, provided the organizers could get sponsors to underwrite the cost of the balloons, which was substantial. It took several months for the organizers to get the sponsors they needed to mount such an extravagant event set to take place on Father’s Day in June. The starting point would be the Dakota at West Seventy-Second and Central Park West, and it would end up at Washington Square Park, a long, ambitious route down Broadway and Fifth Avenue. The city was amazingly cooperative in issuing permits for such an event, although crowd control was always an issue.

Other than the
New York Times
and the
Post,
which always covered the event, the only broadcast media that agreed to carry the parade was the classical music radio station, WQXR. TV channels wouldn’t touch it, except for maybe a brief clip on the nightly news. The radio station had contracted with the two announcers from the Westminster Kennel Club, Dale and Don, to cover the event. Yoko Ono had agreed to open her apartment at the Dakota to be used as a staging point for the broadcast crew. The Dakota was a landmark building in Manhattan, built in 1884. Its name reflected the fact that at the time it was built, it was so far removed from the city’s more established luxury areas that the tenants might as well be living in North Dakota. Nevertheless, it became an icon and ultimately home to many famous writers, actors, and musicians. The organizers of the parade were delighted that Mrs. Lennon had offered, at no fee, to let them broadcast from her apartment, with a wonderful view of the starting point of the parade. She would be away in London at the time.

Dale and Dan were the announcers. The broadcast was set to begin at 10:00 a.m., a bit early for such an event, but then most everyone participating or watching along the parade route had been up all night. Just like the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, the volunteers who would handle the massive balloons were Macy’s employees. The store had a very gay-friendly policy, as a large number of their employees and customers were LGBT.

The balloons had been manufactured at a warehouse in Secaucus, New Jersey, the most contaminated site in North America. Even with facemasks, you could barely breathe as toxic air wafted across the Meadowlands. The huge balloons were transported to Manhattan in the middle of the night on flatbed trucks, through the Holland Tunnel to the starting point of the parade at Central Park West, where they would then be inflated.

Tim had gotten up early to watch this process. He’d taken a subway up to the West Side. There were lots of guys standing around to watch as the workmen inflated the giant balloons with helium, bringing the rubber figures to life for a short time as Macy’s employees struggled with the guy wires to control the heaving rubber masses.

The lead balloon in the parade was Liza Minnelli, a big, zeppelin-shaped thing, sponsored by Kamchatka Vodka. The Liza balloon would kick off the parade, accompanied by a chorus of young boys, all children of Macy’s employees, singing “Follow the Yellow Brick Road.”

“Well, that was some opening!” Dan cooed admiringly from his post at Yoko’s apartment in the Dakota. “WQXR has never had such a show. I can’t wait to see what follows.”

That was just the beginning, because after Liza, Cher—sponsored by the Palm Springs Convention and Visitors Bureau—rounded the corner. Vail, Colorado, had declined the invitation to participate. Cher was resplendent, with big hair and peacock feathers, another farewell tour, but she looked lonely without Sonny. Chaz was nowhere to be seen.

“This is some parade,” Dan narrated. “But I think the best is yet to come. Wow … there’s Bette Midler … brought to you by the Ansonia Hotel … followed by Barry Manilow playing a white baby grand piano.”

“What a sight!” Dale gushed from his primo position in the Ono/Lennon suite. “And look! It’s Jerry Brown and Linda Rondstat, in khaki safari gear, sponsored by the African Safari Company from Burbank, California. They really love their politicians out there. But wait … here comes Bill Clinton right behind Jerry and Linda. They must be doing this in alphabetical order. And look at that woman in a beret and black dress holding the lead guy wire. Does she look familiar?”

“Yes,” Dan said, trying to suppress a laugh. “These guys sure knew what they were doing when they put this parade together. Oh, and the Clinton balloon sponsor is the S. C. Johnson Company laundry stain remover, Shout. Great contribution from a family company. They obviously know who’s using their products.”

Tim was watching from his vantage point on Central Park West. The crowd was mostly gay men, some in costumes or leather or full drag; a few of the younger, buff boys were wearing Speedos, even though the temperature was barely seventy degrees. It was quite a scene, and a lot of people were listening to the WQXR coverage on their iPhones. It was a shame the networks or local TV stations had declined to cover the event.

“It certainly is a proud moment,” Dan commented. “Right up there with the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, although I do miss Snoopy and Santa Claus. I guess a gay Santa in June may not be appropriate.”

Next came the New York City Gay Men’s Chorus, marching in formation and wearing impeccable green and white uniforms, singing “Somewhere” from
West Side Story.
“Now that is a statement—‘there’s a place for us,’” Dale observed, sounding truly moved. “And proudly sponsored by American Airlines. Way to fly over the rainbow!”

The mood changed when Gladys Knight and the Pips turned the corner, singing “Midnight Train to Georgia.” It was one of the largest balloons in the parade and required over fifty Macy’s employees to handle it. Motown was making its contribution, and the sponsor was the Tropicanna Hotel. “Does she still perform?” Dan asked.

“Yes, mostly in Las Vegas,” Dale confirmed. “And remember her outstanding run on
Dancing with the Stars
?”

“You seem to be pretty up on this stuff,” Dan joked.

“I try,” Dale responded dryly.

Celine Dion followed, looking like she’d just gotten off the Titanic
.
One exception in the parade was that the handlers of the Celine balloon were not Macy’s employees. They were cast members of Cirque du Soleil, the sponsor of the Celine balloon. It was a requirement of the company’s sponsorship, since no one else was allowed to touch Celine. It was quite a sight, seeing that she was after Gladys Knight, a big rival in Vegas.

“This just goes on and on,” Dan commented. “To our listeners who cannot view the parade, I must say, this is one of the most spectacular events I’ve ever seen in the city. Regardless of your orientation, you should share in the pride of all the effort and all the time that went into putting this together. And a special thanks to the sponsors who made this possible. We hope you will support them for being up-front and courageous to stand up for human rights … for everyone.” Dan was getting choked up with emotion.

The crowd cheered when the George Michael balloon, sponsored by the Beverly Hills Parks and Recreation Committee, appeared after Celine. Who else could follow the Diva from Canada—and singing “I Want Your Sex”?

Tammy Fay Bakker was next with enormous eyelashes and fake tears, of course sponsored by Maybelline, who probably had an exclusive contract with her.

Then the crowd went into a frenzy when Norma Jean Baker turned the corner, her famous white dress billowing. “I don’t think we’ve ever seen this quite three-dimensional effect before,” Dale remarked. “It is truly spectacular. And the sponsor for this balloon asked to remain anonymous.”

“A mystery,” Don added.

Porn star Jeff Stryker followed—Mattel Toys his sponsor. “I don’t know what to say,” Dale stammered. “It must have taken a lot of rubber to put that together.” He laughed. “I’m sure our listening audience will understand, although I’m not sure they can really quite grasp the enormity of what we are seeing.”

“And now we seem to be getting to the end: the legendary Barbra Streisand,” Dale announced. A brief pause. “But there seems to be a problem.” The Barbra balloon was caught on a lamppost that cut into the rubber, slashing a nasty scar across her nose. The air was rushing out of the balloon, and the handlers had lost control. The rubber Barbra took off into the wind, and after flailing in the air in front of the Dakota, she collapsed onto the Central Park brambles.

“Oh my God,” Dan gasped, not realizing he was still on the air. “Barbra’s a-shambles in the brambles.” The crowd on the street groaned in disbelief as the fallen star deflated amid the tree limbs and bushes in Central Park.

“What a shame,” Dale said. “Who would have thought such a thing could happen? I feel sorry for the parade organizers—but wait … there’s one more balloon rounding the corner. It’s Lady Gaga in her famous meat dress. What a finale!”

“Lady Gaga is certainly an inspiration to the LGBT community—actually, an inspiration to everyone who believes discrimination and bullying are wrong. And her Born This Way Foundation has done an incredible job in reaching out to troubled young people.” Dan sounded like a paid spokesperson from the Gaga press organization.

Tim looked at the young guy standing in front of him on the curb at Central Park West. He was singing “Born This Way” as if he were on stage at Madison Square Garden, singing the lyrics
“’cause God makes no mistakes”
with the thousands of others lined along the parade route following the Gaga balloon.

“You’re really good.” Tim smiled, nudging the boy with his elbow.

“Oh.” The boy blushed. “I get carried away.”

“Why not? That’s what it’s all about.”

“I guess, but Lady Gaga really changed my life,” the boy volunteered. He was slim with soft, straight, light-brown hair, like a horse’s mane, brushing over his forehead. He was wearing a simple white T-shirt and tight faded chinos.

“What do you mean?” Tim asked.

The boy looked at Tim uncertainly, paused, and then spoke. “Well … three years ago I was really messed up.”

“So join the club.” Tim smirked.

“It was when Anderson Cooper came to our high school to talk to kids who’d been bullied.”

“Yes, I remember that. Were you one of the kids interviewed on CNN?”

“Yeah,” he said sheepishly.

“Right, you were Tim from Buffalo.”

“You remember that?” the boy asked incredulously.

“Yes. Because my name is Tim and I related to you.”

The boy looked at Tim, not quite believing what he was hearing.

“Were you bullied too?”

“We didn’t call it that, but it’s pretty much the same thing.”

“After the interview I got a call from a volunteer at the Born This Way Foundation. He set me up with a treatment center to help me work out of my depression.”

“That’s amazing,” Tim said. “And it looks like it worked.”

“It took two years to get over the feeling of being worthless. But all the bullying and teasing about being too skinny or too gay, and all the insecurities that came with that shit, all of that turned around at the center. The counselors taught me to be brave and to take those experiences and all the nasty names I’d been called, they taught me how to channel those experiences and emotions and express them in my photography.”

“You’re a photographer?” Tim asked.

“I’m studying photography at the School of Visual Arts. Thanks to Lady Gaga I got up the courage to apply for a scholarship at SVA, and I actually got one.”

“That’s amazing,” Tim said impressed. “You must be very proud.”

“I’m grateful. Grateful to Gaga. She saved my life.”

“Well, I’m proud to meet you, Tim from Buffalo.” Tim put his arm across the boy’s shoulder and hugged him gently.

The boy responded by wrapping his arms around Tim, pressing tightly against him. “I’m proud I was born this way.”