When I was about 12 years old, my grandfather’s new wife’s son came to stay with us during our vacation. He and his friend took the D and I to the Go-Kart park and predictably became our new favorite step uncle. Later that night, as I laid in bed with those blissful Bumper Boat visions replaying in my head, I overheard some adult conversation through the paper thin beach house walls.
It was the first time I understood that when grownups used the word “gay”, it meant something different from the way my friends and I used it.(re: not followed by the word wad.)
The second time I understood something was gay was when Captain Harris and Proctor went to the Blue Oyster Bar. Or a place “featuring patrons dressed up as bikers in leather clothing, sailors, and other gay fashion archetypes made famous by the members of the Village People” as Wikipedia so matter-of-factly phrases it.
The third time was tonight as I drove through Thomas Circle on what seems to be National Rob Halford Day. I don’t really know how I missed that this weekend is Mid-Atlantic Leather Weekend 2007. I have totally not been reading the right blogs.
PS - This is the site’s first entry ever completely hand-written on a Motion tabulate with a stylus. It took 13 hours and the first draft ws completely incomprehensible.