Last month, after the usual perfectly satisfying Citron soda dinner, I had fallen asleep on my couch watching the normal trash I usually do, reruns of the “Golden Girls.” I woke up to this infomercial selling this amazing sandwich maker. It made any sandwich into perfectly crisp triangles within what looked like seconds. The brilliant sales commelian/person on the screen had what sounded like a British accent, that I later realized was probably South African, but that was besides the point. He kept on making thousands of these amazing little triangle sandwiches along side this woman who would exclaim “Just set it and forget it?” every two minutes. I then switched the channel and there was an A & E biography of Princess Diana. It was at that moment, that I randomly booked a trip to London. Two weeks later I also received a sandwich maker that I couldn’t for the life of me remember ordering or get to work like the infomercial showed.
For the last hour of work, Christopher is studying me. He is studying me the way Courtney Love studies a syringe. Every time I glance over, I try to barely look his direction. He makes sure to lock in eye-contact. I start to wish that I was just a customer right now, off and able to mingle with these interesting foreigners. Our eyes meet for a bit longer than comfortable, it’s even longer than it was a few minutes ago. That is when I start to actually get intrigued.
Finally my shift is over, I have changed, clocked out and gotten paid. Ready to go home and start on my 10-page term paper due the following night. My mind is already miles away from the bar. I am off. I make it through the now slightly crowded bar and go straight for the door. As I am walking out of the bar, to my left, there is a group of guys chatting. Some of them are smoking, the others are just chatting away. Suddenly Christopher pops out of this group, grabs my hand and starts telling the crowd of apparent drunken strangers how we have been an item for years.
“I travel so much, it’s hard on him.” He says.
I am silent at this point and while intrigued, I am unsure as to where this is going. One of the smokers asks him how long we have been together. At this point Christopher grabs me by the waist fairly aggressively.
“How long is it now? 5 and a half? 6 years? We are getting married in the London next year, even though his parents don’t support it. They don’t like that I’m in show business. My mother though, she thinks of him as her own.”
The smokers smile, laugh and go back to talking amongst themselves. At this moment, Christopher leans in and plants an intense kiss on my lips. It’s the kind that you see in movies and feel incapacitated after. He peels me off of his lips, looks into my eyes and then goes right back to work. The then pulls away, grabs my hand as he tries to pull me back into that abyss of a bar.
As I open my mouth to speak, my voice sounds like it did at my bar mitzvah, painfully off, like a fog-horn sort of thing. I then clear my throat and try again. “6 Years huh? You don’t even know my name do you?” I say slowly, while still reeling from the kiss.
“Babe, sometimes it’s the fantasy that makes it fun. Lets take the evening by storm. You’re adorable babe. I look into your eyes and know that I don’t want to just let you go. You are intoxicating. I have an evening here and must get to know what I can. One drink?” He pulls my hand towards the bar.
He is a smooth talker. I will give him that. It would also be nice to have someone in London to visit who can show me sights or at least to bone while I’m there. Everything else in the world seems to not matter now. I have ½ beer and listen to Christopher’s story. While he is talking, I am half listening, half wondering what he looks like naked. Then I wake out of my trance once I hear him mention that he is a dancer. I am even more interested now. He is a part of this dance-troupe that has traveled all over the world, tonight is their only night in San Francisco. He just came out of a 6-year relationship back in London. He has about 2 hours left before he needs to catch the last train back to North Bay, where the troupe is staying. I decide to throw caution to the wind, which is out of character for me. I ask him if he would like to see Twin Peaks before he goes, since it’s the best view of San Francisco. He smiles and approves this idea.
As we are walking out of the bar hand-in-hand towards my car, there is a Sister of Perpetual Indulgence standing one block from my car. She is in a tight, rubber, white dress, similar in a similar style to that of the nurse on that Blink182 CD cover. The dress on this tranny is amazing it’s complimented by white stockings containing dark, think stubble and white glitter all over his/her face. She is just standing there, handing out condoms while holding up a makeup compact to check out her face out of the corner of her eye.
The Sisters are drag queens that look kind of like nurses with Ronald Mc Donald white-faces that are a part of a non-profit that support STD education in San Francisco, and often pass out condoms.
As we pass this sister, Christopher grabs one of their goodie-packs.
“Not that we are planning to have sex, but one must always be prepared… Besides, it will be a good souvenir for my trip.”
I smile, unsure of what is going to happen.
“I’ll take you to the best view of the city. Twin Peaks. Look how clear the sky is. It will be perfect.”
“Just remember, the last bus leaves in a little over an hour.” He says.
As we are driving up the mountain that is Twin Peaks, close to the Castro area, I notice that the clouds are starting to roll in and wonder if this trip up here is such a good idea. He seems content. As we are winding up the mountain, he slowly slides his hand on to my waist, which accidentally makes me floor the gas for a second and nearly drive the car off of the hill. As I regain control of myself and try to focus on the road, I begin to wonder how much I look like a creeper, driving this guy to the top of this mountain to see a view when the clouds are coming in. Will there be a view to see? What will happen if there isn’t a view? What am I doing with a complete stranger in my car, groping me? This seems like a bad after school special. What if he has is a serial killer and I don’t know it?
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