The Week of the Women
In between two of my monthlong October run of Super-Tuesday shows at the Gotham Comedy Club in New York, I happily headed off to Massachusetts. No not to get married, silly. For Women’s Week! After four glorious days of being in Provincetown, it is tough to get back to New York City. After being with all those thousands of lesbians, I do enjoy presuming that every woman I see here in NYC is a lesbian. We like to think the best of people.
It is probably just as well I left Ptown when I did. The weeping and wailing is upon the Red Sox land after they lost to the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. Does Sarah Palin’s pastor know about the devil thing?
I arrived in Ptown on Wednesday evening, just in time to stop in and meet LA producer, Andrea Meyerson’s gang of gals on a Women on a Roll field trip. They were dining at the glorious Red Inn overlooking the bay, dappled silver by a full moon. It was great to meet the LA gals and some of the wonderful new lesbian comics.
Thursday was my 184th Annual Kate Clinton touch football game at the park at the base of the Pilgrim Monument. We had a spirited game, no one was injured, though the next day a gimpy lesbian limped by, while her femme partner glowered at me. We had excellent color commentary by roving bands of lesbo-comics. They all used the bullhorn my girlfriend gave me for my birthday. She thinks of it as a sexual device.
We had a brief half-time show by NYC’s Dykes on Mikes and a visit from MIchelle Clunie (Queer As Folk) and Erin Daniels (The L Word), stars of the locally produced play Last Summer at Bluefish Cove They were gracious, signed autographs and raised money for breast cancer awareness not only at our game but also at events throughout the weekend.
Though the weather turned unseasonably cold, the weekend was a giant warm success with shows and parties all over town. It was good to be together. It felt like circling up the wagons and hunkering down with friends around a campfire while all around us winds of financial stress and campaign uncertainty buffeted our tiny bivouac of comity.
I left, not necessarily rested, but refreshed and ready for the final push of the campaign, grateful I have a job in this economy and hopeful about the change to come.
Happy Vernal Equinox!
