Uniform Antipathy

I do not go for uniforms, as a rule. I find them somewhat silly, packed with a bit of pretension and superiority, and most of the time they look flatly ridiculous. I make it a rule to not wear them, though when forced I will certainly strap on a ridiculous vest or a multi-colored scarf to play the part I'm asked to play. But I take little joy in it.

Last weekend I went against my aversion to uniforms and threw on a nifty number for a Big Gay Cruise, part of the Northern Exposure 6 Weekend of Wild Gay Debauchery and Fundraising. I have realized that the only time I am ok with putting on a uniform is when I find it hot, and when I think others might as well. So, I rounded up a kilt (black), put on a studded black belt, pulled out my "I'm Huge in Japan" black t-shirt, threw on dark grey socks and some black shoes. You may note the absence of underwear, for who am I to shirk hundreds of years of Scottish tradition?!? And did I say it was a Big Gay Cruise of Wild Gay Debauchery? Yes, so the underwear was left at home.

I trucked it out of the house, late since I had over-slept a bit. Knowing parking is outrageously bad down by the docks, I quickly grabbed a vacated parking spot about 5 blocks up the hill from the waterfront, just north of Pioneer Square in downtown Seattle. I knew it would be a bit of a walk, and I frankly felt a bit odd walking down the street in my decidedly hot outfit. Odd because I was certain the gays would like it, but the rest of the public may not be ready for the hotness.

Sure enough, at the second intersection I got to, while stopped by the little red hand and speeding traffic, some people appeared on the far side, looking at me while we all waited. Have you ever noticed that when you wear dark sunglasses and people can't see your eyes they have a much higher tendency to either look at you or lean into their friends, point and whisper about you? Well, I have noticed that, and I noticed them leaning into their friends, pointing and whispering. They were three teenagers, all decked, head to toe in Mariners regalia. Behind them were two more adults, in even deeper Mariner Drag.

As I walked across the intersection, head held high and hoping a stiff wind did not suddenly come up and expose my naughty bits to all of southern downtown, the teenagers walked by silently, either seeing a kindred spirit or wanting to wait until they were behind my back to make comments, I don't know. The adults were not so obliging. The man had a very odd look on his Mariners Baseball Cap shielded face, like he was either deeply incredulous or farting in his Mariners Baseball Pants, perhaps he was doing both. The woman was outright snickering, her Mariners Baseball Authentic Replica Jersey bouncing ever so slightly as her Mariners Baseball Official Tote was clutched slightly tighter.

As they passed, I looked over through my dark sunglasses and with a very slight smile said,

"Nice outfits."