You, You Have, You Have Asked Me

Dancing Queen. Strained through a megaphone. On repeat.

Hours later I would connect the man in drag with the Scandinavian alarm call I never set.

My stay in Reykjavik overlapped with the annual Pride celebration. Store fronts were littered with rainbow flags and UTSALA displays. Clerks deserted their posts to watch the parade march down Laugavegur.

Much of the pageantry was the same as you would find in the states: gay cowboys, gay sailors, gay construction workers, gay firemen. Even Dykes on Bikes.

I pondered: Had all the iconography sprung from the great Ur-Pride Festival of them all in San Francisco and disseminated its way through the cross-cultural rip-tides?

My thoughts were interrupted by a legion of leather clad gimps gyrating and thrusting to 'Du Hast' while pointing accusingly to the crowd.