In July, which seems like a lifetime ago, when it was summer, which seems like a lifetime ago, I went to Madrid for their annual Orgullo Gay pride event. Part of me loves this event, because it's Madrid (wonderful city), and it's Spain (mucho gusto), filled with latin men (ditto), and it's always sunny (unlike London).
However, the bit I don't like is that I end up spending almost the entire time surrounded by people from London. It's like the special holiday episode of a bad 70s American sitcom where the "whole gang" win a "surprise vacation" somewhere, with various subplot contrivances that facilitate the entire cast to also miraculously holiday in the same location at the same time. And as we all know, the rule of the sitcom is that the story must resolve, by the end of the episode, to exactly the same point where each episode began. The Brady Bunch always end up loving each other, and the castaways always end up back on Gilligan's Island. Likewise, I always end up partying among a bunch of people from London - some of whom are just as vain, self-absorbed, and arrogant when abroad - and one week later, we're back home. Repeat.
Anyhow, here are some videos I shot from my time in Madrid this year. First up is the Infinita party. This is the main event following the parade on the Saturday night. Infinita is always held in a stadium, and around 20,000 people attend. This year's event was poorly run, with ridiculous queues. We queued to collect tickets, we queued to get in, we queued for security, we queued for drink vouchers, we queued at the bar, we queued for the toilets... and then they finished the event more than 1½ hours early.
The next night, all the same people went to a much smaller venue called La Riviera for the SuperMartxe party. This was much more intimate, and much more fun. Clearly the €30 cover charge does not meet the organisers costs though, so next year I'd prefer to pay double if the organisers would deign to switch on the bloody air-conditioning. Apparently, it was rota. Sure, whatever. I've been to some sweat-boxes in my many years of "going out" (Turnmills, anyone? Please, let me press the button on that sweatshop)... but this year's SuperMartxe was unreal. Even Tina Cousins stopped her (backing-aided) performance, to whine about the heat.
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