Southern pride

'THE "L" in L Word does not stand for Long Beach," my coworker Sid observed as we surveyed the scene at Long Beach Pride. Although we were within 25 miles of Los Angeles, these were queers of a different, more laid-back breed. My friend Kyla elaborated, "There are lots of people here who don't have the latest '80s subcultural fashion, which makes me really happy. They don't have sticks up their asses."

That's how it goes, apparently, at a southern California pride celebration where age and race are extremely diverse, sensible sneakers prevail, and most people keep their clothes on. Long Beach Pride did have that outdoor-mall feel common to vendor-oriented situations, but it also felt like a gay state fair. Perhaps it was the line dancing going on in the "Country" tent, or the drink tickets, or the long expanse of penned-in grass.

Is there anything gayer than a Subaru Outback full of Girlfriends and On Our Backs magazines? It was in said vehicle, wedged in between said magazines (belonging to my employer, HAF Publishing), that I and an elite crew of Pride-goers hit the I-5 south two weekends ago. Our mission: sell subscriptions and give out free stuff to the celebratory masses.

Our first evening in Long Beach was uneventful – save for an elevator ride with Patti LaBelle (a main-stage act) and a failed attempt to crash a prom. The next morning we got our first look at the city – which from downtown appears to be all tall buildings and sailboats. A local friend drove me to the gay and more residential sector for breakfast at the Library (3418 Broadway, 562-433-2393), a coffee shop with floor-to-ceiling books, dark wood, plush, medieval-looking chairs, and – aside from the usual bagel fare – excellent scramblers on weekends and an amazing cake selection. The best queer hangout in Long Beach for the under-21 crowd, the Library is connected to an adjoining Library Newsstand, a ReadyMade-esque magazine shop (e.g., colorful, home-sewn magazine holders) with DSL access.

Later, at the festival, where the HAF team was handing out its own magazines, my fabulous On Our Backs sales pitch ("Free sex-positive porn!") wasn't working so well on the lesbian crowd, who seemed more interested in the Girlfriends issues with Melissa Etheridge and Kelli O'Donnell on the cover. That is, until a rabid On Our Backs fan gave the crowd a sermon whose main text was that every lesbian should have a subscription, because "we don't have any role models sexually, and we end up doing what our uncles and brothers say, which is still doing a male thing, and then we wind up being a fucking pillow princess ... get the magazine, find out what to do, and fucking move!"

After that we were fairly successful, though nothing could quite compare with the sales tactics of our neighbors next door at Empowered Products, where two men gave hand jobs all day long with their Stroke 29 lube. Hand jobs on patrons' outstretched fingers, that is, which from far away looks like a very vigorous handshake. I had to try it. One of the nice men at the booth, Michael, gave me the female version, which was basically a deep-tissue palm massage. Aaaah.

After a long day of product pushing, it was time for dinner at Hamburger Mary's, a chain whose local installment seems to be the main place for gay dining in Long Beach. A raucous bar and dance-floor area was bumping to "YMCA," and as we waited to be seated, Mo, a very friendly, cigar-chomping, Pabst-drinking local, pronounced Long Beach far more "chill" than other California scenes. Even the news from the bouncer that there was no drinking in the parking lot failed to put a damper on her mood. She winked at us and yelled from the sidewalk, "I ain't in the parking lot!"

In comparison with San Francisco's, Sunday's Pride Parade seemed quite tame. As aforementioned, most people were fully clothed, aside from the leather daddies. Dykes on bikes roared past, followed by two dykes on mopeds, a gaggle of fags on bikes, and finally some baby dykes on bicycles. Next came a 20-minute gap as the rest of the parade struggled to catch up with the two-wheelers. Back at the booth, the consensus among the Long Beach ladies was that we should check out a dance club called the Executive Suite (3428 E. Pacific Coast Highway, 562-597-3884), which offers two floors of salsa and booty music most nights of the week. Word from Logan Cook, a local, was that the club was fun for the boys at Friday night's Boyzone. The gay ghetto, he told us, is the Long Beach version of San Francisco's Castro and extends down Broadway from Ximeno Street to Orange Street. Cook's recommendations were as follows: the Silver Fox (regular karaoke), the Mineshaft (older crowd), and Club Broadway (punk and electroclash for the younger dyke set).

The sun hadn't yet set on Long Beach Pride, but the conversation was already moving to the next stop on the pride parade: L.A. Pride, taking place June 18-20. We walked away with plenty of recommendations for spots to hit there: 40 Deuce (5774 Melrose, 562-597-3884), for its great burlesque scene; Cook's hands-down favorite, the Abbey (692 N. Robertson, 310-289-8410), a massive outdoor bar and restaurant that's always packed and has great martinis; the women's night at Here (696 N. Robertson, 310-360-8455); and the famous Girl Bar at the Factory (652 N. La Peer Drive, 310-659-4551) – San Francisco's Cherry Bar times 10. As L.A. Pride rolls around, though, I suggest a trip to Long Beach first. Hang out with some mellow, friendly queers, then join the migration north.

Laurie Koh is an editorial assistant at Girlfriends Magazine.