I could bore you with economic tales of woe and how I barely made it to Washington, DC and back, but does anyone care a whit about Withers’ finances? Despite my lack of Tweets–attempted but my technology skills would shame a third-grader–I was at yesterday’s rally.

The original plan was to get a press pass and do all of the press things (which is really about access). That was scrapped and for the day I was a proud resident of the Mountain State. Approximately 25 people from Fairness West Virginia donned bright yellow shirts (loved by the crowd and a few bees) and marched with the LGBT  tribe. This decision by the way was marked as a good thing by the gods because when the march started a rainbow graced the light blue sky. For some reason others in the crowd saw the rainbow differently.

As we walked, we were enthusiastically joined by at least two people actually from West Virginia,  excited their home soil was representing. When Liz Zale—she is “the wife” of Maria Baugh, the  cupcake queen of New York–and I asked a mounted police for directions he pointed to our t-shirts, wondering if we were residents of the state. He looked a little  disappointed when we told him we were just New Yorkers.

From where we stood it was hard to gauge the size of the rally and it would be foolhardy to try, but like all reports have pointed it was impressive.  While a hearty debate about the march’s effectiveness is worth having, I hope it will kill that annoying memo that the young are apathetic.  Jeesh, the city was overwhelmed with young gays and their straight allies. Walked past two anti-gay protesters both with bull horns, telling us about Jesus’ love and how gays are going to hell. One of  the bull horned men was  Randall Terry. He’s not a tall man. As he was spewing his mess, some young queen stood in front of him and said a line of scripture. Terry had no response. The youngster laughed and joined his friends. I would like to say he snapped his fingers, but that is my imagination. I think.

Liz and I were leaving the subway to get back home and these two lipstick lesbians ran up to us (we still had our West Virgina t-shirts on).

“Did you two just come from the march? Is it still going on?,” one of them asked. I want to say the other was applying lipstick, but that could be my imagination.

We answered yes to both.

“What subway should we take.”

I let Liz deal with that one. She was our GPS for the weekend. They thanked us and ran to catch up with their peers. The pair were not wearing heels.

I kn0w I’m rambling at this point, but let me end  with a description of two other young  women. They were standing in front of the Capitol Dome (for the record: I’m still enough of a geek that I got goose bumps looking at the city’s buildings). They both had t-shirts with the phrase “Gay? Fine by me.” Tall and lanky, the type of women basketball coaches dream of. They had an American flag with rainbow colors and after waving it, folded it as Old Glory should be, ending in a triangle with the stars on front. Two young women showing more respect to the symbol of the country than the country affords them.