Pride in South Dakota

Belle Fourche, SD -- This will be rushed, I'm just stopped at a public library on my way to Alzeda, MT for the night. I may update with pictures when I have more time, but here's a quick summary of the last few days.

I rode out of Pierre without incident and spent the next night in the little town of Midland, which is unlike other towns in the area because they have hot water underground at 3600 feet. Most towns in the area don't have drinkable water, apparently. People drink bottled water or truck it in. Anyways, in Midland I talked with a man who digs water mains and I saw, mixed in with postings of cars for sale and town meetings, a photocopied flier for the Rapid City Pride and Diversity festival that coming Saturday. I moved on to the Badlands the next day, and spent a day there being awestruck. More on that later, I think.

I got into Rapid City on Saturday after leaving the Badlands and found my way over to the Pride Festival. Some political candidates spoke, there were information booths, and they gave me a T-shirt advocating the defeat of the anti-same-sex-magrriage amendment that's up for vote this fall. It was a nice little affair in a small park, and some local singers performed. Apparently it's Rapid City's second Pride -- the first was in 2003. I was adopted by some folks from Vermillion and the University of South Dakota and stayed with them at the house they were at for the night. I also went with them to the party that happened that evening at a pub in town. Okay, I'll be honest: compared to New York or Boston Pride, it was not particularly overwhelming. At the peak of the evening, there must have been 25 people on the dance floor, and maybe twice that back at the bar area. I liked it, though. There was one song they played part way through the evening with the chorus, "If you're going through hell, keep on moving...you might get out before the devil even knows you're there". It's a current hit on the country charts and was the only country song that was played all night, but people started dancing with arms hooked and it seemed happy and hopeful. There weren't many people there, but there were enough, and at least to an outsider they seemed to be having a good time. I don't know how to describe it, but it had some sort of communal feeling that I never noticed in the crowds of Boston or New York City Pride.

There are motorcycles everywhere out here. This is Sturgis Bike Week and somewhere in the neighborhood of a million people are going to be riding their Harleys, Hondas and choppers around the Black Hills. It seems like a million people already are. I've been seeing people on their way to Sturgis since entering South Dakota, and riding around here is practically deafening. (Before you go worrying about me on my own in the midst of all these bad bikers, let me say that some very nice riders hauling their bikes out to Sturgis behind their pickup gave me a ride and saved me from having to bicycle on Interstate 90 when it was the only road out of town. They were really friendly.) People come from all over the country and the world to be here, go to races, buy T-shirts, ride the Hills, and be surrounded by other rebellious folks in leather with their counter-culture hair blowing in the wind and engines roaring who love riding their motorcycles. It's absolutely huge, now, of course, but it started small. I think with all the tough-guy imagery I'm supposed to be intimidated by the riders, but I keep thinking (despite the racket) that it's kind of sweet. Especially at the beginning, I think, it must have been a lot like Rapid City Pride.