In the moment, my first Pride seemed like a colossal mistake, but it turned out to be destiny.
When I was eight, my parents and I took our first and last family trip from Michigan to New York City, where one big-city calamity after another seemed to befall us. Near the end of the journey, I remember my mother gently weeping in the back of a taxi as we retrieved our illegally parked and duly towed car.
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