Chapter 12 My First Gay Pride

Now I’m about 10 pounds lighter than I was when I started at the Labyrinth.  I cut out late-night milkshakes.  On a side-note, true story, for the first 4 month of the job I would get a peanut butter milkshake after every single shift and wondered why my jeans got so tight.  It started to look like my jeans were keeping my body hostage.  Since starting at the bar my jeans have lost 1-inch on the waist.  While most of the boys working here cut their sleeves off to look sexier, I’m not at that point.  My sleeves are like spanks on Star Jones (before the surgery), not coming off without a fight.  Keeping the sleeves on your shirts here is like being the guy who goes swimming with a t-shirt on.  It just looks out of place.  It’s like going swimming in one of those full-body bathing suits from the 1930s while everyone else wears Shorty-shorts for trunks.  I know this from personal experience because I was “that” guy. 

I was the kid that others would stare at, while eating their weight in food at the Sizzler.  The look was like, “Really? All you can eat? Someone should stop this kid and send him to fat camp right away.”  It didn’t help that I would wear this shirt with Bart Simpson on it, which read, “have a Cow man” on it for every Sizzler outing.  I guess there’s something to the power of suggestion.   I wore the shirt with the trunks because I thought that would keep people from focusing on my chub boy-bitch-tits.  It was a distraction from what my cousin Nicole called my “pleasantly plump” exterior. 

Many of my hotter, less inhibited, limber, more-fit coworkers cut off the sleeves of their shirts to make themselves not just look, but to feel sexy.  Who cares if some of their faces look less then satisfactory?  It’s about creating a persona and in the wise words of a Ms. RuPaul, “You betta work!”  Any drag queen will tell you, it’s all about attitude and selling it.  There can be a drag queen who’s adam’s apple the size of your head and a full beard, but give him some heels and a good Liza number-impeccable.  At the bar, when they stick to the appropriate size shirt, the action of cutting the sleeves does actually make them look better, but when they don’t…. It looks like sausages squeezing out of a tiny trash bag, which is how they usually end up looking.  Today I actually go out to get my first pair of Diesel jeans, also known as gay man jeans.  They are from a local thrift shop.  They are a steal at just $10 dollars due to a weird pen-stain on the crotch region.  Frankly, I need to catch up for lost time, so I don’t mind the staring.  It’s a win-win situation.  When it comes to a good bargain, no one has to ask this good Jewish boy twice.  A good find (assuming getting laid is not a possibility) leads that boost of confidence, every young man needs to start their day with.  It’s the same awkward boost one gets when riding the subway, and getting hit on by the nasty man sitting across from you.  As he licks his lips, teeth (or gums because he has no teeth) in your direction, like you’re a file mignon you feel special.  While disgusting, it does make us feel special.  It’s not like you would ever go home with him, but it gives you that boost of self-esteem you need to take on a tough day.

For the past couple of weeks I keep getting scheduled shifts with this guy Jose.  He is becoming a good friend.  He is also my only real ally at work.  This guy is fascinating to say the least.  Jose is about 2 inches taller than me, making him somewhere around 5’10”.  I tell people that I’m 5’8” (even though I’m actually 5’7” &3/4).  He is one of those gay boys with perfectly plucked-eye brows, the kind that simply add to the botox look on his haggard 23-year old face.  His Latina eye-brows have a bit of a drag queen meets cholo/greaser look that create a look of confusion that equals a blank, glazed-over face.  He is perfectly androgynous.  Jose spews overt sexuality, which adds to his mystique since he acts overtly masculine, but wears foundation.  He is one of those guys who at home is probably macho and not out to his family, but outside of that, the queen spreads her wings.  It seems like he never allows his emotions to be seen, on his face.  It’s like he is permanently stoned.  Come to think of it, maybe he is.  This guy is always ready to give anyone a show.  He has a whole bunch of tattoos that tell his story.  His story is tough, shitty upbringing, the type of guy who has nothing good to say or at least the story he wants people to believe.

Jose and I are about a month into being “friends.”  Hanging out with him is like watching that lame Anna Nicole Smith reality show.  You want to not like the show, but after a while, you realize you have been watching for hours and don’t realize how much time you spend together. Like any friendship it’s still new and I am still trying to figure out if it’s just a part of some larger game connected to the bar.  Is he really my friend, an ally or just someone with a good game face?  Ricky, the little Chinese guy pulls me aside yesterday and day to tells me that I should watch out for Jose.  According to Ricky, he feels “that Buddah have evil plans for Jose.”  I write off what he is telling me such utter nonsense, so I ignore this whole concept.  Jose and I get oddly close by the virtue of the fact that we both like similar things.  We both like to go out, have fun and are stuck living on the schedule of the bar.  This job puts us both on the vampire schedule, which is fine because I too ignite in the sun.  When one finishes work at 4am what is there to do? I am in school still.  Any time I am free, not working and probably should be doing homework, everyone else is sleeping or it’s the middle of the day and they are working.  They are on the schedule “of the living” so we call it. 

While I am new to the scene, Jose is one of those people who acts like he knows everyone and everything.  Whether this is true or not, I don’t know.  I’m just along for the ride.  I assume that he has been around the block a few times in his day, (at the ripe-old age of 23) by the way he acts and holds himself.  I assume that he has been around not to be mean but because of all the different types of men who approach him when we are out and about.  He is the type of guy that can go to a club and everyone to fall in love with him.  They are under his spell.  He has already worked at bars for a while.  Maybe this is how they know him?  Not from sleeping around, but more so from working in the neighborhood or most likely a bit of both.  This guy is always ready to be the life of the party, and if that isn’t the case he will bring the party to wherever he is.  He is also one of those guys always ready to fight anyone who gets in the way of his party life.  By ready, I mean he essentially is Marty McFly waiting for someone to call him chicken so he can tear some shit up.  He is a bi-polar mix of a down to earth, relaxed guy and absolute outraged hostility.  It’s okay though.  In my case it seems to work well.  It’s like having a styled, male, Chola, personal bodyguard wherever I go.  Within seconds he can go from chill to breaking bear bottles on any bully’s head.  I love the security I feel in that regard.

Being the responsible guy I have always been, its odd to spend time with someone who doesn’t think about the next step.  Jose lives in the moment, something I know nothing about, everything I do is as planned and thought through as a TV guide.  I admire how he can just let go and have this unexplainable freedom of not thinking about tomorrow.  The truth is that this is because his tomorrow is never certain.  He is on the run from his baggage of problems that will eventually catch up with him.  He is all about now and in the moment.  While I can see the problems associated with this train of thought, I can also feel the refreshing breeze of this concept.  It’s a life of freedom from the stressful world I currently live in.  It’s an escape from our problems and inadequacies.  He seems to live life without responsibilities of any kind.  I can’t understand it.  He seems to have never learned the concept that with every move there is a reaction and vice verse.  With him there are just moves, the reactions are not his problem or at least that is how he carries on.  We are grown men in our early twenties, who are from “broken,” single-parent households.  We are the guys they make specials about on Dateline.  His story will feature one about him in prison for something stupid, like starting a fight at Sephora.  Mine will be for starting from nothing and now having it all.  We both have currently though, take care of ourselves as we have our whole lives.   Maybe that is why we have a soft spot for each other?  We both seem to understand the other’s struggle.  While we are different, we are very much the same.  He will never let anyone know this though.  He is a very thick skinned-poker face type of guy. 

Jose is a guy who always has the money and time to party.  Always ready with a little bit of weed and cash on him.  Always dressed in expensive jeans and designer crap that he buys the same day in cash.  He is always ready to impress.  In retrospect, I don't think he could be a hooker, but wouldn't be surprised.  He never seems to think about tomorrow, just about now.  It’s amazing how he can just shut out the fears of tomorrow’s failures.

Our first time going out together is also my first Gay Pride.  This was a few weeks into being at the Labyrinth.  That Saturday, also infamously known as “Pink Saturday.” It’s like Marti gras in New Orleans.  Jose somehow has the day off.  Me being new to this game, I don’t really get the big deal of this gay pride crap.  At 9 o’clock, I am off.  As I punch my time card out, all of a sudden Jose is there, out of nowhere.  It is as though he had just materialized from thin air.  He pulls me by the arm and says, “I got a blizie in one pocket and another full of cash, we are gonna have some fun tonight.” 

Within seconds, we are pounding shots like we are making up for lost time, even though it’s super early.  Shot after shot, they all are blurring together.  Before the liquor sets in, Jose pulls me out into the street which now was filled with men, women, glitter, boas, drag queens, trannies.  Clothing is now optional.  At least that is how the crowd looks.  There are DJ-vans set up everywhere and the streets are now blocked off.  As Jose is pulling on my arm with one hand, the other is grabbing every ass of every hot guy he sees.  It is the same way elderly people use the railing to help themselves down stairs.  He uses the asses to lead his way into the crowd.  Out of nowhere he hands me a little blunt.  We are right in the center of it all and smoking pot.  I am amazed at how nonchalant he is.  The carefree spirit is something I don’t really know how to embrace.  I don’t know how to be as free as Jose looks.  I turn to hand Jose back his blunt and he is making out with 3 random dudes at the same time.  They are dressed as angels and covered in glitter.  I turn to my other side and there are naked lesbian on stilts who are tapping heads that they pass by to gain balance.  They are wandering muffs out, tits bouncing.  Now so stoned that I don’t realize I am full on watching the Jose show as though it’s late night HBO and I’m 13 years old.

Eventually Jose and I end up drinking some booze with some shirtless lesbians we have just met minutes prior.  While I am gay, i can't help but stare at a great pair of tits, I mean, they are called fun-bags for a reason.  Luckily, none of these lesbians have nice tits.  Their boobs look more like runny eggs from years of telling the "man" to fuck off and not wearing bras. 

It’s interesting to watch how Jose can work people.  He knows what he is doing most of the time and if he doesn’t, he looks like it.  He appears to be very good at manipulating things to go his way.  Jose plays the whole gay boy card where he starts complimenting one of the girls on her makeup and the other on how perky her tits are.  Such simple, stupid compliments and they work.  These girls eat it up like cheesecake.  He then asks if he could buy a beer from them.  He ends up taking their whole box of MGDs, hands me 2 and then handing them $40. 

We end up with the lesbians at some house party a few blocks from the “Pink Saturday” aftermath.  This party is much like a San Diego State Frat party, but instead of bro-men, it’s full of lesbians of all walks.  Then again I turned around and Jose is making out with some old daddy-man with a big beard who looks like he could crush skinny little Jose.  I then realize that man is an ex-woman, a Female to Male.  I notice this when Jose peels himself of the dude.  Jose then takes out of his magical pocket yet another blunt.  That pocket is like Mary Poppin’s bag, it keeps magically giving us more blunts.  His pocket must be filled with them.  Jose then looks right past the man/woman as though they have never met and takes an un-opened MGD he finds on a near by coffee table.

Jose comes up to find me engaged in a conversation with one of ladies.  She has the most beautiful dreads that I have ever seen.  I am so drunk that I am staring at it like it’s a diamond ring.  Another side note, there are 2 types of gays.  One that likes to stare at shiny things and one who like to wear them.  I am the first one.  Her hair is blonde with natural copper highlights.  We are talking about how we both had realize that we both loved PBR and living in San Francisco.  We both decide that we must become best friends right then and there.  She starts talking about the Middle East, Gaza, politics, and of course peace.  I hate when SF hippies start yapping about politics if they have no idea what the hell they are rambling about. Then Jose jumps into the conversation.  He literally stands right between myself, the lovely girl who, I am now best of friends with for the moment.  He then starts talking about how pretty the girl is.  He tells her that her hair was so pretty, but looks a bit damaged.  I think to myself how odd to say something like that in a backhanded compliment the way he is saying it.  He then says, “this place is tired, I’m out.”  Within seconds he was gone.  Just as he so quickly materialized earlier in the night, he is now out of site all of a sudden.  Before I know it, I wake up safe and sound in my bed some time hours later.  I am still clothed, covered in the smell of smoke, pot and booze all rolled into one.  I am just confused and unsure of the night’s events.  In spite of this, I am sure though that this is a night I will stay with me.