Some traditions start local: a gay Saturday in the Magic Kingdom, everyone wearing red.  Initiated in 1991 as a way to get gay families together, Gay Days rapidly escalated (and evolved) into a national circuit party tradition that’s now a international juggernaut bringing well over 140,000 attendees to Orlando while pumping more than $100 million into the local economy during the first weekend in June.  

That’s about twice as many people as those attending the state’s largest Gay Pride Festival (which just happens to be in—St. Petersburg). In fact, some people consider Gay Days/One Mighty Weekend to be their Pride Festival.  After all, it’s in June—and filled with every species of gay person imaginable, with a particularly high percentage of jaw-dropping specimens of beauty.   There are people who wouldn’t think of missing the first weekend of June in Orlando (we met people who were back for their ninth year in a row, as well as people who save all year long for this vacation)—and this year’s edition of One Mighty Weekend was hotter than ever.

On Saturday, it was sizzling—literally.  One of those East Coast heat waves that boiled up the Eastern seaboard.  At the Reunion Pool Party at the Buena Vista Palace (ground zero of Johnny Chisholm’s One Mighty Weekend entertainment empire) the boys wore as little as possible—and sometimes less.  Chickens were searing.  The pools were packed with boyz bobbing like fruit in a punch bowl.  Introduced by JP Calderon, Jeanie Tracy was onstage (is she the hardest working woman in show biz?), inciting the sweaty mass into near pandemonium.  Everywhere we looked, everyone was smiling—and everyone was there: boyz from Providence and New York, Los Angeles and Michigan, Jacksonville and D.C.—as well as anyone you’ve ever known in South Beach (would the last person leaving South Beach please turn out the light?)

For some, the Reunion Pool Parties are the best deal of the weekend. It’s all about the flop on the grass, the pose in the pool, throw back a cocktail, and pop the question, “Wanna get naked?”  Back and forth, upstairs to the suite and back—boyz coming and going, flittering like Tinkerbelle.  David Knapp kept the soundtrack very upbeat and “Boogie Nights”—so that everyone was a porn star for the afternoon.  It was Saturday afternoon on the first weekend in June—and there was Pride in the house. 

Part of what makes One Mighty Weekend so alluring is the sense of carefree abandon that, if you were lucky (and gay), marked your childhood.  Perhaps it’s something that hovers in the atmosphere around Orlando: all those children who’ve come here to play, releasing joy and wonder into the air—for us to breathe anew. 

On Saturday night, the Magic Kingdom was filled with fairies—so many of us that any lurking ogres had to stand back and marvel.  With flashing Mickey Mouse ears, we took over the parking lot trams—and headed to Hollywood Studios for One Mighty Party.  Waiting for the gates to open, the boys were giddy with anticipation, ready to surrender to the magic of Mickey’s Sorcerer’s Hat—and when at ten p.m., the signal was given, the boys burst forth—and thereafter, we were lost in playland.

If you haven’t been to Disney World since you were a kid, you might have forgotten the attention to detail, the cleanliness, the manicured flora—and even the fauna who seem anthropomorphic (a bunny rabbit runs out toward an oncoming tram and all the waiting queens scream in horror—before Thumper turns back—and the queens clap with relief).  It’s no wonder it feels as if we’ve found the Gay Home Planet. 

There must be something in that water.  Something that makes all the Disney elves and dwarves so friendly and chipper—and before you know it, you’ve let go of your inner snark.  You can’t seem to wipe the smile off your face—and all around you, you’re seeing the little boy in all your adult friends.  The boy next door, the happy-go-lucky boy, one gleeful hot Brazilian exclaiming, “Look at this!  It’s like Christmas.”   

And there you are, walking down Main Street, USA—and it’s totally gay!  Boys walking hand in hand, laughing and smiling, off to see the wizard.  At last, at last—the Magic Kingdom, our home planet, where we can dance all night—to two deejays, DJ Joe Gauthreaux and DJ Eddie Baez, working “Touch My Body,” “The Boss,” and this year’s ubiquitous anthem, “Bleeding Love.”

There’s too much to do. Taylor Dayne’s onstage and there’s food and booze—and rides like Aerosmith’s Rock-N-Roller Coaster to make you lose your dessert.  It’s Alice’s Wonderland—and all your friends are in the rabbit hole—with you: Alex and Chris, Edison and Nestor, Hilton and Mel, Ric and Kevin, Patti and Roland, Chad and Leo, Jake and Jesse, Rob and Mark, Andrei and Andrew, August and Parzham, Wendy and Shane and Victor, Steve, and Joe Caro, Christian and Eric, and everyone else you’ve ever confessed to on a dance floor.  It’s a circuit family reunion—all come home to play. 

Meanwhile, over at VIP @ the Brown Derby, that Hollywood bastion of insular privilege, a setting so adult and retro, so stylized and chic, you feel inclined to be on your best behavior—like the time your gay uncle first took you to the Plaza.  Cocktails flow—and boyz pose for photos—and then outside, you hear the fireworks.  And you hurry out, staring up at the sky with thousands of boyz all around you, awestruck and wonder-filled, as the stars explode overhead.  It’s too much, too extreme, too excessive, such abundance, such visceral overload—and you couldn’t be happier.  You’ve never been so happy—and right then you know for sure: you’re coming back again next year.  Back to the Magic Kingdom for another One Mighty Weekend.