Some people rue the end of summer.  Not us.  What’s to miss about the nightly wheeze of the air-conditioner?  Or the stench of street garbage sunning in black plastic.  Nah, there’s little sadness for us when Labor Day rolls around.  And here’s one good reason why: Black and Blue’s up ahead. 

Oh, sure, there’s a whole bunch of other stuff to focus on once September hits New York.  Fashion Week, for example, whose primary purpose for a circuit boy is to showcase what you might wear to the party if you weren’t already half-naked on the dance floor.  And all the glossy magazines fat with ads for the latest restaurant where you might eat if you weren’t spending so much time at the gym and watching every calorie.  And the papers selling the latest crop of B’way shows starring Hollywood actors in need of career resuscitation – for which you might consider dropping two hundred dollars for a pair of seats, if you hadn’t just ordered passes for Black and Blue.  

No, September is all about priorities.  We’ve got to download the latest mix from Joe Caro and we’ve got to find out if Kat C. is having her annual Black and Blue party.  And call and make sure that the Hotel Gault has got our room in order: the one with the free-standing bathtub which fits three (because you never know....).  And reconfirm our flights and call the cat-sitter and brush up our French.  Comment dit-on “dick dancer?”   Busy, busy, all September.    

Because, as anyone who has ever been to Black and Blue knows, Black and Blue weekend ain’t no little thing.  Occurring during the Columbus Day holiday (also known as Canadian Thanksgiving – which seems more appropriate, given that there’s so much to be thankful for in Montreal that particular weekend), this is the Everest of circuit weekends, the one you have to climb, all the way to the top, before you can say you’re a full-fledged and proud circuit boy/queen.

For sixteen years, the non-profit and volunteer-based organization BBCM (Bad Boy Club Montreal) has been distributing monies – over one million dollars thus far – to groups providing direct care to those people living with HIV/AIDS, as well as to gay and lesbian community groups.  Starting with a single party in 1991 which attracted 800 revelers, Black and Blue has evolved into a week-long festival with over 60 cultural events and parties and more than 80,000 participants from all over the planet. 

The theme for this year’s Main Event, the showpiece of the entire week taking place once again in the center field at Stade Olympique, is Supersonic, and once again, the artistic director is Jean-Pierre Perusse whose conception of Xtreme, last year’s Main Event for Black and Blue’s 15th anniversary insured that there was a party for the annals.  Expect nothing less this year – for Jean-Pierre’s personal motto is: “Don’t be shy; be radical.” 

Okay, so we’ve all been to a lot of parties by now.  But no matter how jaded you’re on the verge of becoming, there’s nothing quite like Main Event at Black and Blue.  This year’s Fringe Festival in New York had a play called Rainy Days and Mondays, written by Andrew Barrett, with each scene taking place in various hotel rooms at circuit parties around the globe – but the most riveting scene was a nearly ten-minute monologue during which the protagonist detailed in spellbound wonder his awestruck entrance into Stade Olympique at Main Event for Black and Blue. 

There’s nothing else like it.  And why?  Maybe it has something to do with the combination of people.  People from all over the globe who’ve flown into Montreal – to dance.  To party.  To help raise money to fight AIDS.  So already the spirit is right.  And then there’s the fact that Main Event is about forty per cent heterosexual: and without a doubt, these heterosexuals are some of the coolest people on the planet, and seeing them, you have to wonder if the world would be in less dire straits if all straight people were as open-minded, loving and tolerant as these appear to be.  Beautiful people.  Really beautiful people.  People who know how to dress.  They love to dress.  Fashion as an expression of freedom.  The freedom to be who they want, who they are.

So there’s that, the attendees.  About 10,000 of them.  And then there are the production values.  It’s not for no reason that Cirque de Soleil hails from Montreal.  Those long winters promote creative genius.  BBCM has a reputation for shows that are technical marvels and emotional roller-coasters.  Seal’s performance last year, for example, singing “Solitary Lover” atop an eight-story scaffold as AIDS tallies flashed on video screens, and the year the Buddha soared overhead, and the year of the AIDS ribbon made manifest by thousands of candles – each performance piece leaving an indelible mark in the memory bank.  So that later, when you see footage from the party, or photographs, the vibe sweeps over you again, and you shiver with happiness that you were there.  You lived it. 

It’s hopeful.  Being at Main Event, and being in Montreal for Black and Blue, restores your faith in what we, as a community, can do together.  One year a French-Canadian reminded us that there were three things that set Canada apart from the United States: gun control, gay marriage, and no capital punishment.  It makes you think.  It’s more about love.  And to be in Montreal during Black and Blue is to see a world where people get along and watch out for each other. 

Sometimes we, on the circuit, get caught up in holding on to what the circuit used to be, or believing that the circuit has seen better days.  Black and Blue can be a reminder of how the circuit has evolved – for the better.  In spite of the loss of several prominent American circuit events, there are still more of us partying worldwide in the name of love.  And during a time when the world seems rent by sectarian violence, it’s a joy to see people dancing as one. 

In the end, Black and Blue is a true holiday, a gay holy day reminding us that what’s most holy is loving each other.  The BBCM dancers, all of whom are exceptionally talented, and as they also like to say, extremely kind-hearted, have a prayer they share before each peformance, and it goes like this:  “We men and women, gay, straight, and bi, seropositive and seronegative, from all walks of life, join together to remember those who are gone, and to offer support to those who continue the fight.”  In the end, this is what Black and Blue celebrates: we’re all in this together: one planet, one love.