A Day at the Opera
That was the term Mark used for it. I had been distracted on Saturday when I heard an inordinate amount of screaming. This was not "I Love the Drag Show" screaming; it was anger. I ran outside and saw these freaks with Bible warning signs against Fornicators, Drunkards, and Homosexuals among others.
Both sides were hollering at each other and Miss Tiffany was out there in her gold lame' Cleopatra Jones outfit bitching them down. (I need a more sane life.) As the protesters were out-numbered about 40 to one, I had an edgy feeling; my loyal members of The 7th were on the steps, drooling for blood. I stood at the bottom of the stairs arguing that we would all go to jail and that was not a good thing. (The police were just arriving.)
So, with both sides shouting each other down the police surrounded these jerks with their backs to us wearing orange battle jackets of some sort. Soon, it must have dawned on these guys that they were vastly outnumbered and they moved down to a straight club down The Drive to do it there.
A Day at the Opera, starring Miss Tiffany, The 7th, 200 men and woman, gay and straight, old and young who just wanted to have a fun afternoon.