Floaters

Thanksgiving, a time for family, food, and ignoring the obvious ironies of our nation's past, that of Native American slaughter, religious fundamentalism, and manifest destiny.

This year, I'm off to another small dinner for a few queens. What's left of my family is back in Ohio, where I was, and L.A., where I've been.

Two of my most unusual Thanksgivings were in New York City, when I got some freelance work through a fellow cater-waiter Darrin Humecki. He also designed clothes, and got me a gig dressing up Long Island Macy's employees for the annual parade.


One year, I dressed up 30 people as bees, the next as trees. It basically involved stuffing big-haired gals and chubby guys from Islip into a rack full of costumes that had been stored in a warehouse in New Jersey.


I'd also worked tangentially for Macy's at a Jersey City scene shop, building sets (the shop also made sets for The Public Theatre; pretty neat stuff, and my theatre training came in handy for what became one of my favorite jobs).

After getting the Macy's peeps dressed and out onto the street, I and the other dressers got to watch the parade and all the floats from a window in Macy's high above it all.

I know, it's not as witty and dry as David Sedaris' SantaLand Diaries, which is why he's a big famous chain-smoking author who lives in France, and I'm not.

But at least I've been to France, and can speak French.

Happy Turkey Day. I'm off to cook some carrots and brussel sprouts. I was going to bring Double Rainbow pumpkin ice cream, but I already ate it.