It’s taken me a while to write about my Weekend Reunion experience.  There’s a lot swimming in my head in relation to the experience and it is a challenge to segregate and manage what I can share and what needs to be shared and what must remain in the confines of my mind only.  Hey Weekend Reunion is like Vegas what happens there – stays there – and well I told you waaaay back you should be there.

 

When the announcement that Weekend Reunion was happening came down I simply wanted to support the cause, support my lifestyle friends, and be in the building.  There is a magic that happens when you fill a dungeon with brown bodies and I wanted to be a part of that.

Over the years I’ve been fortunate to meet many people, and do many things over time in the kinky universe, but there is no place like home and Black BEAT has always been home for me. It’s always been a place like Cheers where everybody knows your name and they are always glad you came.

Even though this was not Black BEAT the people were the same so I felt I needed to be there.

A funny thing happened along the way to August though, it felt different.  There is a quiet warm feeling that goes with heading to Black BEAT. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, it is quite welcome actually. The momentum leading into this August was different though. I will admit that a part of it was me.  I’ve grown and changed and become more comfortable. That translates into less anxiety for me.  What I was feeling leading up to the event was adrenline and excitement. It felt different that just a home coming.  It felt like a groundbreaking. It felt like we were on the cusp of greatness and were to be a part of history.  How ironic that it would become mostly true.

Thursday arrived, the day that I was scheduled to head south.  It was a rough couple of weeks on the home front leading up to Thursday. That morning I was still unsure if I would make the trip. I was not a matter of me wanting to go it was a matter of my being able to go.  Every plan that I’d made leading up to Thursday was shot to hell.  Every single fucking one. I woke that morning optimistic that the universe would deliver and preparing myself for the worst.

As the morning wore on I did what I always did.  I cared for Bonnie & Clyde and did homework and played Candy Crush and tried to not watch the clock and the mailbox. I did laundry and tried to not look at my suitcases that were empty because I didn’t want to jinx myself by packing.

Early in the afternoon my best friend Bishop called me.  He was going to the Reunion as well and he should have been at the hotel by then.  I knew that he wasn’t though.  We had a contingency plan in case I would not be able to attend. He would take the supplies I promised the event with him and I would give myself until Friday to try to make magic happen. Bishop was calling incredibly late.  He was the victim of bad luck all morning that stalled and delayed his departure. In jest I told him that all of his bad luck was the universe’s way of making sure that he didn’t leave me behind.  Neither of us knew that my joke was the truth.

Without the delays he encountered my ability to attend would not have happened. Period. Far later than either of us planned we were on the road to Maryland, and it was well after dark when we arrived.  We were both frustrated by the events of the day and the hurdles we had to leap to get there, but when I pulled up to the hotel it all washed away as I got out of the car and got to give my first hug.  It was the first of many hugs I would give over the weekend but it never got old or stale.

One of the back stories of the evening was the constant call of home to me as I was on the road. My sitter Shannon was in a frenzy in a way she’s never been before when she’s cared for Bonnie and Clyde. I actually wondered if I would have to turn around and go home before I could even unpack.  That might sound extreme but when you get 23 text messages and 12 phone calls in a two hour period it makes a little more sense.  Here I was at the place I didn’t think I would be and home weighed heavy on my mind.

Bonnie & Clyde are the most important people on this planet and I did not  see how I could stay while I worried about their comfort.  I was worried.  I sent Bishop off to engage in the events going on while I tried to solve a problem from a couple hundred miles away.  I used every resource that I knew about, and invented a few that did not exist. When the problem was manged (not handled but managed) I returned to the room.  I was mentally exhausted and physically drained.  I wondered how I could function the rest of the weekend with all that was on my mind, and then the door opened.  Bishop was back and there were others with him.  The hugs we shared erased all of my anxiety, worry and pain and I was rejuvenated.

I was in the place with old and new friends. I was actually laughing. I was actually happy.  I was actually free.

Thursday night was filled with fellowship and joy.  There were erotic moments as well.  Let’s just say that a pretty penis is a thing to behold because – well – they ain’t all pretty.

Friday was the meet and greet and I somehow managed to break the dress code even though I was a greeter – da hell?

Even though I likely won’t volunteer for THAT position ever again, it was the chance to see 90% of our attendees.  It was the chance to wrap my arms – and other body parts around old friends, new people who would become friends, and overcome my shyness.

I really AM shy.  *ahem*

What I loved the most about the meet and greet was even in line there was a sense of community, warmth, and family.  People who didn’t know one another were introducing themselves.  People who knew one another were getting to know the ‘new’ faces.  That doesn’t always happen.  Sometimes we walk in and go with who we know.  There was an effort by just about everyone to know one person more than when they got there. It was a sense of family, and no one wanted to be the odd man out.

Our dungeon opened not long after the meet and greet and it was huge and beautiful!

We could have fit twice as many people inside and from the moment you opened the ballroom doors and the music hit you

if you didn’t know that Weekend Reunion was different you knew it at that moment.  To walk in and watch people dancing, beating ass, laughing, and in the corner “littles” coloring  was a sight to behold.

Every type of kink was present. Every kind of kink was accepted. Every kind of kink was loved and the energy was off the charts. No matter how you chose to express yourself you could do it.

Walk with me now.  We are in the “littles” corner when CoCo the [human] puppy runs up and steals one of the bowling pins.  Coffee runs after her, her school girl skirt fluttering, as she scampers away.  They run past a couple on the spanking bench, canes around them that have been used and dropped to get to the next level.  They run past a trio of people on the wrestling mat, not including the ref in striped shirt and all.  One girl has knee pads and there is another who has the third in a scissor leg lock.  Can you hear the smacks?  Can you  hear the moans?  There’s a man in the corner with a leather vest and knife looking for his next victim.  There’s a woman behind him smiling as she looks over his shoulder.  There is a couple dancing, but not doing the waltz.  They are moving like no one is watching writhing and pulsating like the bass from the sound system is coming directly from their soul.  There is a woman in the air, laughing as she’s carried by a man three times her size.  On the St Andrew’s cross two women are kissing through the X while the top behind them pops a single tail.  The D J is working it as we look around the room.  There are no unhappy faces.  There is simply love and lust – laughter and tears (the good kind) – pain and pleasure.  All bound together not just by the color of their skin but by the content of their perversity.  Existing and coexisting, feeding off each other, so the next person is inspired to sit for their artistic cutting.  The next person is inspired to be a human ottoman.  The next person is inspired to lay down on the table and feel the ZAP of the violet wand.

Chaotic beauty, simplistic harmony, stylish torture all meet at the confluence and the sea over flows with people free to be in their skin, be who they are, and love what they do.

That energy was taken to the party floor after midnight and turned up 10 notches.

The floor was all OURS.  No one except event attendees were given access and that opened the door for anything goes.  We walked about in various states of nudity, we paddled and flogged in the hallway.  We visited with one another in our rooms.  Some were generous enough to supply us with red velvet cake or a martini bar.  Others were generous enough to supply us with impromptu BDSM scenes or simply camaraderie.

Everything was up close and even more personal until just before sunrise. Or if you were as fortunate as I was…. well AFTER sunrise.

The event planners took mercy on us and our Saturday classes began at 1pm.  There can be little that is more vexing than staying up until dawn and then trying to get into a 9am workshop.

Our classes were on rope bondage – impact play – single tail – and something rarely seen when you gather a group of colored people together pony play.

Simultaneous to the classes was the pool party, which had me in a bikini. At the same time the little’s playground was also open, and there was a game room where people could play cards or chess or Scrabble.

No matter what you wanted to do on Saturday afternoon there was a place for you. Even if that meant chilling outside or sleeping in because you did not the night before.

The dungeon re-opened on Saturday night and the build up from the night before and the bonding experience of the day made mo’ betta even MORE BETTER.  At times a conference will focus on the education to the detriment of the people. Weekend Reunion understood that this experience would be about the people and that made all of the difference in the world.

The Wild Kingdom pajama party was Saturday night.  Catered by Popeye’s and drinks fueled by Coffee’s punch led to another night on the party floor full of debauchery yet still full of family.

That’s about all I can tell you about the party – at least not without discussing details that should not be shared.  If you know someone who went though ask them about the chicken room 😉

We had dungeon furniture on the party floor, willing victims….. er I mean volunteers and more fellowship than should be legal.

When I packed up on Sunday morning to head north the stress that was Thursday was no more. I was full of love, I was full of energy, I was full of candy 🙂

I took Amtrak home and felt the aftermath of my days of playing.  My body was a walking testament to letting loose, being myself, and enjoying the moment.

Never in my years outside of my relationships have I been so accepted, so at ease, and without reservation.

I made the determination on that  train ride to hold onto what I learned and not let it go.  I still haven’t.  I will not.

I am an altered woman and it is for the better.

Even though Weekend Reunion won’t be back in 2014 I have faith that Black BEAT being back will still capture most of the magic that we made at Weekend Reunion.

I have so much faith that coming soon will be my open letter to the Black BEAT organizers.

Stay tuned…. and stay kinky

 

 

Aphrodite Brown