Gay rites

0 Comments | Gazette, The (Colorado Springs), Nov 21, 2004 | by BILL REED THE GAZETTE

"Sometimes people want to come in and gawk at the freak show. We're fairly used to that kind of situation, and people walking by and muttering 'what freaks,'" says former emperor Mark Merriman, an executive recruiter in the area. "The truth is, we don't all dress up that way. It's just another social group that makes money for good causes. We don't see ourselves as being that weird."

One teen boy yells, "Oh my God, I'm scarred for life" as he passes by. In his wake he leaves a pained silence.

"Two years ago, we had a Christian event in the hotel at the same time. You don't want to know how ugly that got," Merriman says. "People want to shake their finger at you and thump their Bibles and tell you you're going to hell."

Although the court has been held at the Sheraton five years running, the event has been "uninvited" from hotels in the past. Sometimes the pain is self-inflicted -- a court member streaked the lobby of one hotel -- and sometimes not.

"Basically it was due to ignorance, or people not fully aware of the court. It really hasn't been a problem here," says Rick Rhody, a court member and catering manager for the Sheraton.

As the liaison, Rhody makes other groups aware of the court before they show up at the hotel.

"We make all of them aware of who is in-house, just so they know and there aren't any issues," Rhody says. "Like the bathrooms. When gentlemen walk in and see high heels in the stall, they don't know what to think."

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Six hours of formalities kick off with the National Anthem and a prayer.

The only political comment of the night comes as emcee Michael Graczyk salutes the troops in Iraq: "Remember, they're fighting for our rights over there while we're fighting for our rights here in America."

The coronation is separated into three sets, and most of the guests change into a new outfit for each one. As Merriman says, "We're all about pomp and circumstance."

The evening mixes performances and well-worn ritual into a long ceremony. The members of all 28 Colorado Springs courts of yesteryear are introduced. Court members from New Mexico, Montana, Nebraska, Iowa and California have made the trip and are introduced.

Introductions are broken up by lip-synch performances, mostly in drag. Look, there's Tina Turner doing "Proud Mary" and a long, lean Texas cowboy "with a swish."

The ceremony swings wildly between the exotic and the ordinary.

It feels like a family reunion in the heartland when everyone sings along to Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA" and an old man sidles up to the food line and releases a resounding fart. The man happens to be wearing a rhinestone pendant that reads "Bitch."

The door of the ballroom is a magic curtain. Outside, members of the court seem defensive and brash as they pass through the lobby, forcefields raised to deflect ogling eyes and harsh comments. Inside, they chat and laugh like they're at a prom.

"Besides the gratification of giving back, it's fun," says Regina Sellers, court secretary of Denver. "It's a social outlet. We all play make-believe."