It’s a sad day here at Queerty, for this marks Jimmy Im‘s final correspondence from Whistler’s annual WinterPride. We’ve had some good times, some bad times and certainly some drunk times.
But, before he goes back to where ever it is he came from, he’s got some words on his final trip down the mountain, veggie loving lesbians and a little Cirque de Soleil action. Although we can’t tell for sure, we think he got a little teary at the end. Ain’t that sweet?
An absolutely beautiful day affected our moods and sent us flexing with invincibility, so much so that we decided to skip our snowboarding lesson and head for the slopes unguided. After all, we’re those fast-learning gays of which the cast of Queer As Folk should take notes.
We rode the ski lift high up the mountain, braced ourselves as we disappeared into thick clouds and gave second thought atop the intermediate slope. With the lack of clarity and slope’s steepness, we were quite daunted, but pushed on, never compromising our egos. It was more challenging than we imagined and I suddenly understood why Helena (our French instructor) warned us about tendons popping.
But looks are deceiving, and I made skiing look as easy as Paris Hilton. Sam was a poor deer caught in headlights, hesitating in his skis, carefully analyzing the route, falling mucho, clearly intimidated. He didn’t seem to have a natural knack like me, failing to rise up to my masterful caliber. Sorry Sam. I guess you have been dethroned, and I’ve proven that I am Mighty Man of the Mountains.
To celebrate our last day of skiing, we enhanced our Whistler style with new haircuts at Farfalla, an Aveda concept salon. I struck up polite conversation with my blase, face-pierced stylist, who told me she moves to different cities often.
“Why is that?” I asked. “Do you like to travel?” She candidly replied: “No. I just get fired a lot.” Good to know. As blatant as she was, she also admitted that most of the straight guys were not that straight when intoxicated. Cool. Where’s the pub?
Sam and I both came out with surprisingly winning cuts that knocked off a handle of years, firing us up for the long, gay night. Because WinterPride events are lined up back-to-back, we had no choice but to hastily dress for the first annual WinterPride Banquet. Lipstick lesbians griped about the lack of vegetarian options, but their A.D.D quickly kicked in for a burlesque show featuring some dashing dykes.
This was also the first time WinterPride partnered with a touring
group, and everyone was happy to see the quirky Cirque Du Soleil team execute their bizarre and inhuman behaviors on and off stage.
The last dance took place at Maxx Fish, where the line-up rivaled Marquee on a Friday night, and there were plenty of bumps and grinds to go around. While I lost fuel from daily partying and strenuous activities, a quick drive-by included many goodnights to my new friends and I wished them luck with their continuing weekend circuit parties, strong Canadian beer and hot hotel sex.
All in all, WinterPride was just as gay as any other gay-themed event, but beautifully executed with visitors from all over the world. It’s well worth the visit and, in my opinion, nothing beats cuddling up with a partner (or stranger) in front of the fireplace after a long day of exertion.
Thanks for reading and feel free to send me some love at JimmyImmy. Over and out.