Because we went back to Alegria’s original home on Friday night and because we heard Susan play Pier Dance on Sunday, it seemed right to make it a complete old-school trifecta – and head to Junior’s Summer Camp on Monday morn.  Back to the original Sound Factory where, years ago, I dragged Robert one Sunday morn and as we climbed through what seemed to be a hole in the wall, and passed through a metal detector (this in the days when gangs brought guns to Gotham clubs), Robert turned to me and said, “Where the hell are you taking me?”  “To hear Junior,” I replied – and that’s why we were there again.

Back to what is now Spirit, having passed through its Twilo years, and though it’s noticeably spruced up, and quite clean and well-maintained, there’s still all that good karma in that room from years gone by.  And so we walk down the long white hall and through the black doors and down a few stairs and – we’re blinded.  Can’t see a thing.  It’s so dark, so crowded, we’re like bumper cars as we feel our way around the room, heading for the back bar.  Hoping our eyes will adjust before we take out another two people. 

It’s ten a.m. and Junior has his camp full up.  There are pup tents on the stage so maybe there’ll be wienie roasts later.  There’s a cowboy on the lip of the stage who looks perfectly edible.  And there’s Matt K. who’s also just arrived, but he hasn’t clocked anyone with his nightblindness, and it doesn’t take but another minute before we’re heading onto the floor.  Maybe Junior’s still warming up, but what he’s got cooking is working for us.  We’ve barely been awake an hour, and already, he’s pouring it on.  The floor – that floor – so many feet have trod that floor.  It’s wooden and it gives and your feet skim and slide, and meanwhile, up in the booth, there’s Junior, a bouquet of roses behind him, with a small sign that reads AIN’T NO OTHER MAN.  Amen to that, that’s how this crowd of happy campers feels.  The a/c’s working and yet still it’s hot, in the best way.  Slick with heat but not so icky.  And when we hang upstairs, in the mezz, we’re looking down on a crowd that knows how to move to Junior.  What’s he do that’s so right?  He takes what you know and mixes it with heart and soul, and hurt and joy.  We’re listening to him mash-up a whole series of deep songs, so that he goes from “Pride (A Deeper Love)” which he stretches into something like a symphony, and then into Madge’s “Deeper and Deeper” and from there, into “So Deep,” and long before then, we’re back on the floor, because that’s how Junior is: the floor is where you want to be.    

And especially when there’s Pei, with that smile.  Oh, my goodness, what pleasantness to run into his perfectness, and there’s Alan (no longer with his FedUp tee) but not yet Joey, because Joey’s at the office.  “He’s leaving at lunch,” says Alan, which is so very perfect.  Joey leaving the office for Junior.  And the lights are very blue and then there’s Rafaella doing her Madge.  Maybe “The Best There Is.”  Something like that.  And that’s how it feels, this party: the best there is.  We run into Moody who’s having the time of his life.  He’s chanting his mantra:  “Go, MOO-dy.  Go, MOO-dy.  Go, MOO-dy.”  We offer to take his photo for Manhunt.  He nods at one particular hottie and says, “This party could only be more perfect with his dick in my mouth.”

And there’s Jay, and Kat down from the booth where she was playing resident BoothB$itch for the moment, and Jay goes, “You missed me gagging.”  Do it again, please – for us.  And Alan’s performing introductions, thankfully, so that we finally, at long last, meet Randall Mackie, from San Francisco, and his very sweet boy, Jonny, and they’re having fun, and Pei says it’s the party he was waiting for, all weekend, and Kat’s got goosebumps. 

And all around, we’re seeing people who have been with Junior for years.  Through thick and thin, still in his camp.  There’s something about Junior’s Pride parties which bring out the best – in him and his crowd.  And Junior’s serving it up.  He’s making it so that you can’t sit for long.  And even when we’re off the floor, looking down or looking into, we’re moving.  He has that habit of grabbing on some hook and filling in the backbeat and lifting you up and twirling you around before bringing you down, setting you softly, long enough to catch your breath and hold on – before it starts again.

We’re upstairs when we glance around and notice – THE BODIES.  Ric’s boyz.  The boys from Alegria.  They’ve arrived.  It’s one-thirty in the afternoon and they’re swarming in now and taking over the floor.  They’re bringing in new energy, ratcheting it up a couple notches – and Junior’s ready for them.  He takes us all up again.  And there’s “I’m going to lunch” Joey, just in time for the rest of the afternoon.  No more office for that one.

One hour, another – we keep thinking we’ll move on.  We’re trying to let it go.  But we get back out on that floor and Junior starts with Ilo’s “Rapture” and then it’s PCD’s “Buttons” and so why fight it.  That floor and Junior’s music and all these happy, shiny people.  And we’re dancing with Randall and his Jonny who mentions how New Yorkers are so nice.  Yes, well, this is Pride – and maybe when so many of us come together, from so many places, and we see how many of us we are, maybe it’s then that we let go of some of our fears and start radiating more light.  Maybe all we have to do is make it Pride every day. 

It’s three-thirty when we finally straggle out onto the street.  Sweaty, sticky – and so happy.  It’s really been the nicest weekend.  We walk down to the Park and sit in that outdoor area which we have almost all to ourselves, and there’s no music  but the leaves rustling overhead and the birds singing and we’re eating – finally – real food – and yes, we’re radiating – all the good that came our way from friends, all the joy we harvested from the crowd, all the love all around.  There’s nothing like Pride to fill you up.