Sawyer slapped his hand away. “You’re so embarrassing.”
“That’s the job.”
The spectacle of queer joy began. Finn had known he was bi for most of his life, but it didn’t feel like something to celebrate until the first time his dad took him to the parade.
The first float featured drag queens dancing to “Born This Way.” As the June sun baked the concrete, they pulled out Super Soakers and started to douse the crowd.
“Please tell me this is water,” Robbie said under his breath as he wiped his forehead.
“What, you think a drag queen would waste lube like that?” Finn brushed water from his chest. There was glitter stuck in his chest hair. “Nah. Just water and body glitter.”
The lube came a few floats down—one sponsored by an adult-novelty-shop chain—in the form of individual packets tossed out by employees in fetish gear. Robbie playfully tried to cover Sawyer’s eyes. Imogen’s ears went bright pink when she caught one that almost hit her in the face. Finn pointedly looked away so he didn’t find out what she did with it.
Unfortunately that meant he did see Robbie stick a couple in his pocket. “Interesting marketing tactic,” he commented.
Finn inclined his head. “Well, you’ve heard of ‘word of mouth….’”
The next freebies were magnets, palm-sized rainbows with the words You’re Safe With Me printed along the bottom. Robbie made grabby hands as soon as the woman in the She/Her tank and tulle rainbow skirt was within shouting distance.
She gave him two and a wink for his enthusiasm.
“Sweet.” Robbie offered Finn the spare and carefully pocketed his own.
“Must you be cringe?” Sawyer asked with an eye roll and a smile that belied his embarrassment.
“Free souvenir magnet, Sawyer.Free.”
“You know, other people’s parents are simps for their partners or their kids, not tchotchkes they could afford a billion of.”
Robbie grinned unrepentantly.
Sawyer turned back to the parade, and Finn lifted an eyebrow at Robbie. “Magnets?”
“I have a collection.” He shrugged. “As I’m sure you’re aware, there isn’t actually a whole lot to do in airports other than wait, eat, or shop.”
“But why magnets?”
Robbie scratched his nose. “Snow delay at the Edmonton airport after my first away game. We won the night before. I was bored and saw a magnet that said ‘YEG – City of Champions Sometimes,’ I figured it was fate.”
Various other floats followed—some sponsored by doctors or hospitals, some by businesses, some by clubs. The library had one too. Between them marched activists of all shapes, sizes, colours, and gender presentations with signs that bore slogans like Trans Rights Are Human Rights and We’re Here, We’re Queer, We Like Shakespeare (this one was for a gay community theatre group).
“Ah,” Finn said, spying the next float—and clocking the different tenor in the roar of the crowd. “Here they come. Okay, kids. I need your attention for a minute. History lesson.”
Sawyer and Imogen turned around. “Right now?” Sawyer complained.
Imogen elbowed him.
“Right.” Finn didn’t have a lot of time, so he boiled the history down to a soundbite. “So, once upon a time in New York City, before there was Pride, there were riots when the police tried to arrest a bunch of trans and gender nonconforming folks for being queer. And so when the city in its infinite wisdomelects to allow police participation in the sacred Pride parade….” He clapped them on alternate shoulders and turned them around. “We boo.”
Sawyer looked over his shoulder at Robbie, eyes wide like he was concerned he’d get in trouble. “Really?”
“He’s a better guide than me,” Robbie said. “And all cops are bastards. Have at it.”
For a few minutes, chants ofdefund the policeand similar filled the streets. Then the float passed and the exuberance returned.
Eventually the parade ended and the celebration dispersed throughout the city. Finn and Robbie let the kids stay a step in front of them until someone ran into Finn, apologized, then saw Robbie and did a double-take. Finn called for Sawyer and Imogen to wait.
“Oh my God,” the woman said. She wore a T-shirt with interlocking scissors and had her undercut pulled up into a ponytail. “Sorry, uh, hi, but—you’re Robbie Zeiger, right?” She clocked his shirt and her mouth worked, and Finn would’ve sworn they were gonna have a repeat of his own dumbass question in the locker room, but fortunately she seemed to have more restraint than he did, because she just said, “Uh, could I get a pic?”
