As Andy Warhol once said, "Everyone gets 15 minutes of fame". This account contributes towards a most significant piece of memory in my life, what  I would pronounce as "My 15 minutes of Fame" ...

People ... people ... and more people. As the bus cruised along Oxford Street on the day of the Mardi Gras Parade, the sight of people sitting behind the barricades on the pavements brought a smile and unexpected glow to my face. This is it ... the mood that I had been anticipating for a month had finally found its way and started sinking in. The day I had been waiting for and talk about the preparations leading up to it. All that float building, painting, proper dieting (as in taking the right food), extra strict gym regime, and of course, the decision and purchase of the eventual outfit ... all that effort, just for one simple but yet significant event, known as the Mardi Gras Parade.

Vanity ... one might say is one of the most powerful yet sometimes destructive characteristic of life, which propels us to do stuff that we would never subject ourselves to, in any other time. I admit that I am a victim of this trait but I guess for once ... or on a couple of special occasions ... we are allowed to indulge in this little "luxury", to fulfill our curiosity and inner desires, just for pure enjoyment. And boy, was it fun!! Ha! Ha!

Irony is another feeling that I encountered. Despite the exhilaration, there is an inner guilt haunting me. The fact that I knew that once people recognize me, that's it ... I'm “outed” drives me a little nutty ... with an added element of danger and mystery ... "Well, maybe it's time.", I say to myself. "Time for what?", another voice in my head yells. An inner struggle between the opposing sides of my soul. A daily masquerade I have to put myself through. Just like anyone, I guess. We all play roles in life, which is sometimes, like a never-ending movie. I'm starting to feel more comfortable being myself but I know my aunt's sharp vision and knack for picking out a gay guy, which is why this inner discomfort is still nagging at me. "I'll just deny it", I laid my anxious soul to sleep. Denial ... another powerful form of destruction. Ha! Ha! I shrug it off ...

Excitement builds up as one hour later as I find myself walking along the streets, in full makeup (all thanx to my dear friend, Adri, who did such a fabulous job no one could actually tell), and basking in the excitement exuberated from the thick crowd, made up of all ages, gender and color. Of most interest is the number of Asians observed next to the barricades. Hordes and hordes of them and should I say "well prepared" with bags of food and drink as well. You start to wonder if they are really embracing the fact that "All men are equal ... regardless of sexual orientation" or do they think that it's another street performance? A circus? Ignorance or Acceptance? Nevertheless, some pedestrians (the obviously gay ones) are seen dressed up to the nines in elaborate costumes or trying to outdo each other in skimpy outfits, with exposed bums and body parts. Hawkers selling milk crates, food, drinks, tattoos, chairs, G-strings, and even periscopes help to complete this feel of this international fiesta.

After registering at the start of the Parade and being "greenhorns" and Parade Virgins, we (my flatmate Julian and I) arrived "on time" at the prescribed timing of 4.30 to 5 p.m. for participants. I guess we forgot to subscribe to the official "Gay Royalty" magazine, because we simply forgot the golden rule of being "Fashionably Late", which is the vow of most queens. However, this provided us with extra time to scout around, not for "new talent" but for observing the "before and after" effects of the various floats lined up on the closed roads for the purpose of the Parade.

More and more participants started arriving. The Aviation team with their skimpy bikini trunks, the Thai boys with their flamboyant and elaborate costumes, the leather gangs with their exposed butts, everyone seems to be "decorated" in their own way. It was a place where for once, Jennifer Lopez's skimpy dress at the Grammy’s would seem conservative by comparison, with everyone trying to outdo each other by showing more flesh. "But this is Mardi Gras", an old queen yells. "Yes, I guess this is the spirit of Mardi Gras", where less is everything and more is nothing, unless you're better dressed than royalty, like the beautiful, or should I say vampish Thai Boys gleefully, lapping up all the limelight. The photographers roam around trying to snap the best photos and everyone seemed to be wearing a sash, just like a "Miss Universe" pageant, all vying for the coveted position of "Cover Girl" on the gay newspapers next week, or at least to be featured in the magazine itself.

A superficial world ... one might say ... but I guess many people are just a guilty. I debate furiously on whether I should start stripping (literally) to my outfit (lycra shorts) and finally summed up the courage to do so. That's my first glimpse of "fame", I guess. Suddenly, you feel eyes on you, familiar eyes that skirted around you the first time they laid on you, or treated as if it was a piece of glass, eyes that will start flirting with you, even winking at you. My inhibitions returned. So this is how celebrities feel when they are stripped "naked" facing the world. Not necessarily unenjoyable but I wouldn't use the word comfortable as well. I start focusing my attention to the rest of my crew members. They have started wearing their "uniform", which was a blue and white-stripped polo T, white shorts and shoes, with a sailor's cap as well. It may sound boring but let me tell you this: Never underestimate what a queen can do to a simple piece of outfit like this. Because in a matter of minutes, you see almost a million variations to wear it. A transformation into something that would be unthinkable in the most conservative terms - the ordinary “straight” world,  into a contest of flesh baring.

As we watched more and more people crowding around the barricades and the paparazzi hogging the more prominent groups, a light drizzle proceeded to a slight downpour, which didn't seem to dampen the crowd's spirits or drive them away. On the contrary, they stuck closer to each other, bonding, cheering, and I guess, impatiently waiting for the start of the Parade. For those who are unfamiliar with the parade, it seems as if rain has always been part of the Mardi Gras Parade, though once the Parade starts, the rain goes away, like magic. Only once did it rain through ... and I silently wondered if this would be the next.

We were lucky ... well in some ways. Lucky that the rain did stop but unlucky that we were one of the last floats to move. You get to see all these floats going one by one and everytime a false alarm rings, you end up sitting your restless soul once again. Many thoughts start racing through my mind ... where should I start ... when should I duck (when I see the cameras), will I see my friends, should I dance ... will my friends see me? (More of an embarrassment if I do something wrong) ... I suddenly wake up to the blaring sounds of "9 to 5" from the amplifiers on the float next to me and start watching them rehearse their routine. When they reprise it for the umpteenth time, I felt like throwing myself as a sacrifice in a heroic attempt to destroy the speakers and spare anyone from further agony. My mind drifts away again ...

It's moving ... it's finally moving ... After more than 4 hours of waiting and watching everyone rehearse and then do the real thing, the true beginning (after a few false starts) seemed to hold more of a promise of an anti-climax than anything else. It seemed like a mysterious outing altogether in the making, not knowing what we're going get, or are going to receive.

Screams ... Whistles ... Crowds ... People cheering everywhere ... I stand on the boat, which is part of our float, resembling a tough conqueror in rough seas, with "Mermen and Water Gods" flapping endless tails of blue fabric around us, cheering us on as we take the voyage home ... home to Neverland ... the land of dreams ... I forget all my earlier inhibitions as I take my place on the top of the float, and started dancing.  With everyone dancing to the rhythm of the beat blasting from the loud speakers, we embraced the adoring crowd and made our way. I didn’t care anymore if anyone noticed me. With all the people screaming at you, waving their wide spread arms practically begging you to give them a hug or grant them their wish, and them speaking inaudibly back to you when you maintain eye contact with them, and giving them your brightest smile and wave. You feel like a superstar … you feel like you’re the most loved person in the world … you even feel a little like an angel. It’s a natural high that money can’t buy. It’s something that can only be experienced by being there in the Parade.

I guess what I like most about the Parade is everyone spreading love and acceptance all around. Yes, that’s what the Mardi Gras Parade is all about to the gay people. Spreading love and acceptance. That for once, everyone is equal, despite color, race, gender and most importantly, in our case, sexual orientation. Although we may have to entertain to get their attention, there were no accidents or any incidents of fighting. Maybe I’m a little ignorant to think that acceptance comes this easily, but it’s indeed a step towards the closeted, to come out and say “I’m proud of what I am, gay or not.”

The entire “journey” took over an hour and amazingly, you could still have the energy to do it all over again if you wanted to, and would if given the chance to, but the moment, you get off the float, weariness settles in almost as quickly. You feel all the sore spots you never noticed and you experience the chilling winds once again as you remembered them.

The brief taste of fame ended the moment the Parade route ended but the exhilaration and the glow would last for a few more days and live forever in my heart, which is the real reason behind why I wrote this article. I wanted to share my joy and in some ways, keep it in a “time capsule”, so that every time I revisited this page, this magical feeling will surge from within my heart once again … my fifteen minutes of fame.

My flatmate, Jules, Rusell and I (before the parade)
The Qatas Team - Australian Aviation Team (Left)
Sub-Divers Team (Right)

The Thai Boys

Me, Myself, I

Part of The Marching Sailors                                                             Jules and I

Ian, myself and another James