signs of change

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I was coming home from hubris' house last night after some after climbing dins and I was struck by something. That subtle shift that happens in an instant and is never noticed until later happened when i wasn't looking and suddenly it just isn't summer anymore.

This isn't about a date or a weather pattern or even the changing of the leaves although it only ever happens after the leaves get multicoloured. There is a moment, however indefineable when the Village becomes ours again.

The Village or the Gay Ghetto or whatever you wish to call it is a small neighbourhood in Toronto that attracts a large amount of local and long distance tourists all summer. Most of these tourists are gay people looking for friends, lays or just general good fun with other like minded folks. Some of them are from the suburbs and are coming to town to 'see the gays' and they tend to steadily increase until Pride and then dwindle away along with the heat of summer.

Nonetheless, all summer the Village is not ours. It's always quite amusing to be in line at the store and see three tricked out glamsters getting smokes and then a couple of locals in their PJs buying eggs. Yes I'm the one in the PJs.

You can always tell the tourists because they're the ones who are just a little too perfect. A little too glammed up. Trying a little too hard. The locals dress up to go to the bar sure but they don't care quite as much. They know that the Village and the tourists and the easy sex will be here tomorrow too. Funnily enough the locals look a lot better... it's the not trying you see. It's somehow much sexier and so much more effortless.

So there I was driving home and waiting for my light to change and I realised that the only beings crossing the street were the dead leaves blowing in the breeze. Not a human in sight. The patios were empty and closed up (although the chairs are still out instead of in the basements in anticipation of one more nice weekend patio day) baskin robbins was closed already and the lights were low.

We'll still see the tourists of course, they show up on the weekends like clockwork all year long looking for easy sex or affirmation or just a chance to be who they really are but they aren't here on tuesday night anymore. During the week our Village is a village again and we love it.

This is when the locals stop and chat on the streets, when we actually go into the 'popular' bars and have a beer instead of the out of the way ones. When we eat on Church Street instead of off a block or so. When our home becomes ours again.

Still it's always a little sad too. There's something about the throngs of eager beavers (*snerk!*) that's so much fun to watch. You can be an urban anthropologist just by stepping outside your door.

That said, my favourite weekend of the year is approaching fast. HALLOWE'EN! First of all I think my pvc might fit again so yay I get to be a leather bitch for hallowe'en but more than that... this is when the village parties. For Pride we invite the world, for Hallowe'en we party with ourselves and the people we love.

They still close the street and you can just wander up and down and admire the amazing costumes without spending a cent. Damm i'm stoked!