Each day of Pride Weekend in San Francisco has a different feel. The Trans March on Friday is a protest—some years more than others—and on Sunday the Pride Parade itself is more of a string of corporate advertise­ments than anything else.

The Saturday sandwiched between, the day of the Dyke March, is a fucking party. The march itself is pretty short—a quick loop through the Castro and the part of the Mission that used to be SF’s lesbian neighborhood. But before the march we spend the day hanging out in Dolores Park. The weather’s perfect, the vibe is great. It’s glorious.

It’s also loud, crowded, and overstimulating. EJ got overwhelmed by things pretty quickly, so we cut our Dolo time short and got ice cream on the way home, all before the march even started. Oh well.

I headed off to SFO not long after we got home, to fly to Geneva for work.