Last Sunday I attended a superb performance of Verdi’s most loveable opera, La Traviata, starring one of the opera world’s reigning divas  (I mean that in a good way) Anna Netrebko.  Now, getting to the opera house in the midst of the Pride Celebrations was pretty dicey. I took BART from Oakland and landed at the Civic Center station, blithely embedding myself into the heart of the festivities. I made me way through a sea of happy humanity toward what I hoped was not a dead end at Van Ness.  The costumes were fun if minimal, the liquid refreshment was flowing freely and the dance music was pounding.  I was close to getting what we used to call in High School a “contact high” when I finally bumped up against a stage.  There was no way for me to cross over to the opera house without joining in, so I danced my way through revelers in front of gigantic speakers until I reached the sidewalk. I made it to the Grove Street entrance of the opera house just in time to get my tickets from Bill (long-time usher and pal) and find my seat before the lights went down.  The haunting strains of the Act One Prelude slowly transported me to a different world. A world, interestingly enough, that is all about partying like there’s no tomorrow.  Despite their gorgeous 1920’s garb, I think the characters that inhabit Traviata would have enjoyed moving the party across the street to Pride Central.