Queer Chronicles by Kenneth Allen, ©2004

September 15, 2004

Vacationing in Ohio … Wheee!

So I’m on vacation in Columbus, Ohio … yeah, some life I lead, eh? Actually, it’s theatre work and I’m just using up my vacation time so I can keep my job. See? Some life.

But this, by anything-but-George, has been nice. I forgot that theatre people were nice and that they had talent. Boy this Big Apple can jade you. Perhaps because it’s green.

This vacation is … The Columbus National Gay & Lesbian Theatre Festival. As if there’s any other kind of theatre-person besides gay ones! There are only two of us with my “group.” Me and my X, can you believe it? He volunteered when my trusty co-worker re-prioritized and couldn’t make it. And my non-X doesn’t mind. He likes him.

So, two aging gay adults in the Midwest, away from our respective partners, of course we decided to hit the bar scene to see what it was like. Being X’s, the night could be somewhat entertaining as we can communicate on an honest level now – something we were sore afraid of years ago.

The attendees of the Festival have been great. The hosts, super. We were so looking forward to what we’d meet in “the community.” Guess what we found! Gay men are gay men wherever you go. Something, of course, we both already know. Though for different reasons, we’ve both traveled a lot within these non-united States and have seen the same cast of characters with merely different players.

Since jealousy is no longer a problem with the X and me, we tried to play “who’s hot?” There were a few. One super-amazing ass but it wasn’t really fair because he was black and that’s just in their jeans … genes. My X spotted another hottie, but then the guy turned around. Yipes! I would question my X’s taste, but he stuck it out with me for a long time, so I just don’t think about it.

I drove the five blocks back to the hotel so the car would be ready for the drive tomorrow. The X wanted to stay a few moments. I suppose to be left unfettered by party companions so he could enjoy the openness of his relationship. I crawled into bed and before I could finish my goodnight call to my signiffie, the X arrived back at the hotel. He must have inhaled the drink I’d left him with.

I’m thinking in ten maybe fifteen years we can hope that there will be no more McDonald’s, no more Starbuck’s, and no more gay bars. In the year 2015, gay men will finally know the joys of cruising and shaking booty in the daylight. Of course, that means Starbuck’s has to stay, huh? Then hopefully everything won’t always look so much like the same damned thing wherever you go.

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