Consider yourself warned: This post includes a very weak analogy between a trivial event in my life and a historic event in many people's lives.
Many weeks ago, I decided I wanted to go watch the Pride in London parade. For many people, of all sexual preferences, this celebration is a once-in-a-lifetime event, if only because you are allowed to drink with abandon in downtown London streets, throwing your empty bottles and cans wherever you choose. 'Cause it's all about personal rights, you see.
But then a couple of days ago, I came across a once-in-a-lifetime event for me: a chance to see Whose Line is it Anyway? live. The improv-comedy show was doing a two-week run at the Adelphi Theatre, and the best (read: cheapest) show for me to go to unfortunately overlapped with the parade.
I'm not really a bucket-list kind of girl, but if I did that kind of thing, seeing Whose Line is it Anyway? in person definitely would make the list. But of course, with the show no longer in production (the American version doesn't count), I didn't think such an achievement would ever be possible in my lifetime. So after buying my tickets, I was feeling a bit pompous about attaining an opportunity I never thought imaginable.
And then, a day before the show and parade, the U.S. Supreme Court had to go and gobsmack me, wiping away all my smugness with a single decision in the U.S. vs. Windsor case. And boy did I feel contrite. Here are two things I never thought I'd see in my lifetime, and I was more worried about the one that would give me two hours of laughs, not the one that gives couples a lifetime of love (just in case you aren't sure, improv, not marriage, is the former).
To be fair, I generally would be inclined to support improv over marriage, but even I get how monumental this is. I never thought I would get to see Colin Mochrie in the flesh anyhow, so it didn't much matter that this situation had been denied to me for so long. But that's a far cry from a government telling you that you are denied the right to have your relationship legally recognized like most other people can.
Obviously, I cannot fully grasp the weight of this -- even though Colin is a bit like my soulmate -- but my goodness, I get all emotional when I think about the huge implications this has for many people I know. Waiting for the parade to pass by, I was so choked up by the vastness of it all that I needed a drink. (Seriously, I should've brought some drinks with me; they were more prevalent than whistles and rainbow flags along Whitehall Street.)
Almost an hour and a half after the parade started on Baker Street, it finally passed the end near Trafalgar Square, where I had found a viewing spot from which I could run to catch the show. The parade started with a bevy of flags, with the Stars and Stripes right out in front, hopefully a sign that the other countries behind will follow its lead.
Most of the parade participants were people walking alongside some kind of transport. The blue of Barclays' bus and balloons set off the sky as they headed toward Big Ben (top). Before I had to dash off to the Adelphi, I caught some of the more flamboyant displays as well, including men in leather hot pants (bottom left) and stilt-walkers in rainbow clown costumes (bottom right).
As I headed off down the Strand, I didn't think my smile could get any bigger. But I was absolutely giddy from the moment I saw the Whose Line is it Anyway? logo on the screen (left). I finally realized what it means to be a superfan, when I geeked out upon recognizing that the musicians were Linda Taylor and Laura Hall (right), the latter of which upped the show's game when she took over for Richard Vranch in the 10th season of the series.
My internal awesome meter went off the scale when host Clive Anderson came on stage to introduce the comedians: Greg Proops, Josie Lawrence, Brad Sherwood, and of course my beloved Colin. The only way it could've been better is if Ryan Stiles showed up as a surprise fifth performer. No, I take that back. The only way it could've been better is if Proops gave props (see what I just did there) to the United States for finally getting on board with gay marriage, which he did. Which means it really was the show of a lifetime.
Many weeks ago, I decided I wanted to go watch the Pride in London parade. For many people, of all sexual preferences, this celebration is a once-in-a-lifetime event, if only because you are allowed to drink with abandon in downtown London streets, throwing your empty bottles and cans wherever you choose. 'Cause it's all about personal rights, you see.
But then a couple of days ago, I came across a once-in-a-lifetime event for me: a chance to see Whose Line is it Anyway? live. The improv-comedy show was doing a two-week run at the Adelphi Theatre, and the best (read: cheapest) show for me to go to unfortunately overlapped with the parade.
I'm not really a bucket-list kind of girl, but if I did that kind of thing, seeing Whose Line is it Anyway? in person definitely would make the list. But of course, with the show no longer in production (the American version doesn't count), I didn't think such an achievement would ever be possible in my lifetime. So after buying my tickets, I was feeling a bit pompous about attaining an opportunity I never thought imaginable.
And then, a day before the show and parade, the U.S. Supreme Court had to go and gobsmack me, wiping away all my smugness with a single decision in the U.S. vs. Windsor case. And boy did I feel contrite. Here are two things I never thought I'd see in my lifetime, and I was more worried about the one that would give me two hours of laughs, not the one that gives couples a lifetime of love (just in case you aren't sure, improv, not marriage, is the former).
To be fair, I generally would be inclined to support improv over marriage, but even I get how monumental this is. I never thought I would get to see Colin Mochrie in the flesh anyhow, so it didn't much matter that this situation had been denied to me for so long. But that's a far cry from a government telling you that you are denied the right to have your relationship legally recognized like most other people can.
Obviously, I cannot fully grasp the weight of this -- even though Colin is a bit like my soulmate -- but my goodness, I get all emotional when I think about the huge implications this has for many people I know. Waiting for the parade to pass by, I was so choked up by the vastness of it all that I needed a drink. (Seriously, I should've brought some drinks with me; they were more prevalent than whistles and rainbow flags along Whitehall Street.)
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