The Story That Had to Be Told

A zillion or so times now, I've told this story. The last couple thousand of them, I've prefaced it with, "I really need to blog this one of these days." So, here I go.

Five years ago, I had one of the most fun and meaningful experiences of my life. I volunteered at Tanqueray's Texas AIDS Ride 3. I had volunteered on the Traffic Control Crew for TTAR2, but it was on 3 that I really got myself fully into it. TTAR3 was a four-day charity bike ride from Houston to Dallas, to raise money and awareness of HIV/AIDS and benefitting 17 ASOs in Texas. (ASOs, for you non-human-services types, are AIDS Service Organizations.) Being involved with the Ride was so much fun, so uplifting, because life on the ride was the way the world should be all the time. People helping each other. People looking out for one another. Not just in terms of the purpose of the ride, but in terms of the way it was carried out. When a volunteer Crew or a group of riders was done with what they were supposed to do, they would often go looking to see who they could help. When a Crew was done with their job at the campsite, they would start pulling the riders' tents and setting them up on the grid. Once the earliest riders to get to camp finished showering and eating, they were right there at the finish line cheering on their fellow riders. Everyone was so supportive of each other - Utopia.

But that's not what this story is about. This story is about the afterparty. As I mentioned, I was more "into it" with this ride, so instead of heading straight back to Houston after the ride, I stayed the night in Dallas with one of my Crew captains, Johnnie. Another volunteer stayed there as well, and the three of us attended the official afterparty. Now, for one thing, keep in mind that the titular sponsor of the ride was Tanqueray. For another, remember that it was the Texas AIDS Ride. Not surprisingly, the afterparty was held at a country and western gay bar in Dallas. Yes, there is such a thing as a country and western gay bar. In fact, somewhere in my house there exists a photo of me, hoisted up on the shoulders of Johnnie and Ryan, in front of the sign that read "Voted Best Gay Bar in Dallas, 1999." Also not surprisingly, there were many, many coupons floating around for free drinks made with Tanqueray. Now me, I'm not a huge gin drinker, but who can turn down a free drink? Plus, in preparation for the festivities, Johnnie and the other guy and I had had a few before leaving Johnnie's house. So picture this: me, drunk off my ass, in a country and western gay bar in Dallas. Keep in mind, also, that when I drink, my Texas accent gets pretty darn thick.

Now let's add one more thing to the mix.

It was Karaoke night.

Yep. Sara. Drunk. In a gay bar. Singing Karaoke. Though I don't remember a whole lot from that night completely clearly, I distinctly remember singing "Don't Go Breakin' My Heart" with a man I'd never met before, mainly because his partner refused to sing with him. I also distinctly remember, but cannot even begin to replicate it here phonetically, telling someone in my thick, thick drawl, how I was jist hayuvin' the beyust tahm of mah lahf heyur awn this Rahd. (Get me to tell you the story in person someday, or at least get me drunk and hear what it sounds like.)

Ah, the memories.

Maybe later I'll tell more Ride stories... like Danny's and my mission; David and the Village People costume; or me standing by the roadside in spike heels and a French maid costume across the street from the Mexia (that's muh-HAY-uh) State School. See, the Ride, and the cause, were very serious things. But we still knew how to have fun.