Part II -- Oh So Tawdry

We left our hero back at his NYC hotel, after a night of 80's dancing...

Saturday morning, we got up late, and did some walking and shopping. My favorite shop was a place called Yellow Rat Bastard, where they had this shirt. I didn't buy it, but I think I'm going to order one. (www.davidandgoliathtees.com)

I bought a bunch of clothes at a place called Little Big, which had fun stuff that was fairly inexpensive. They also had a number of hot, flirty sales reps.

We had lunch at a cafe, and watched the big protest. Unfortunately, I'm still not sure what they were protesting. It was supposed to be about immigration, I think, but there were pro-union posts, anti-oil signs, Hate Bush stickers, and even the "Raging Grannies" (www.boomantribune.com). I ate my salad, drank my diet coke, watched through a window and regretted the loss of my activism.

After the shopping trip, we went to the hotel and my friend took a nap while I chilled out and watched "National Treasure". I probably needed the nap more, but I am rarely able to sleep during the day unless I have been up all night. Even after 36 hour shifts in the hospital, I often wouldn't sleep until the sun went down.

We headed out to Little Italy for dinner, where we didn't think we could have a bad meal. Ooops. We were seated, only to be told we couldn't sit there. They gave us no time to eat, got our drinks wrong, and served chicken that tasted like it had been frozen. I won't put their name here, and hope that it was an isolated incident. My standing recommendation for Little Italy is La Mela at 167 Mulberry, www.lamelarestaurant.com.

Afterwards, we went to Splash, one of the clubs that was supposed to be hot on Saturday night. It was a weird scene -- the video screens showed some guy tied down and gyrating in the sand, and there were men in leather doing master/servant shit on platforms. Nothing wrong with it, but not my scene -- until I saw a cute little guy standing off from the crowd. We eye flirted for a few minutes, and I went over to say "Hi". When I asked him why he hadn't said anything to me, he said:

"I figured you were looking at my friend. People are always checking him out." Adorable (as was his friend). It stood as the cutest thing he did for about 5 minutes, when he put his head in my chest and said, "How tall ARE you?" (I'm only 6', but he was on the short side.)

Once I convinced him that he was the subject of my interest, things warmed up nicely until it was time to leave. It turned out that he lived in Queens, and I was sharing a bed with my buddy, so we really had nowhere to go. I was about to get in a cab, when he remembered "a place" he had heard about from a friend. We walked for a few minutes, and were suddenly entering a PORN STORE. Turns out that if you pay for a private viewing room in the back, you can pretty much do what you want. There were signs with rules about how many people you could have in a room (one) and things you couldn't do (fellatio). (If you can break the latter rule without breaking the former, more power to you. I've tried many times since seeing Clerks, and still can't quite get there.) (www.vulturezoneb.com)

We broke those rules, and a few others, before I took a cab home. Getting blown in the back of a porn shop has to be the most tawdry thing I have done. At least now I can chime in during the "Where's the weirdest place you have ever done it?" conversations; previously, I just blushed and wished for a more interesting life. I am well aware that this does not vault me into the upper eschelons of sexual experience, but hey, I grew up Catholic in Erie, PA, and came out late in life.

Sunday we went to a Yankee game, which was a blast. The Trambleys have been loyal Yankee fans since Grampa decided it was the best way to piss off all the Cleveland Indians fans in Erie. I had given passing thought to a ball game, but didn't figure it was in the cards when hanging out with a gay Jewish boy who works for Sephora. So I was thrilled when he asked, rather timidly, if I liked sports, and then if I wanted to see a ball game. (www.soulofamerica.com)

The Yankees won, which was great. But the most memorable part was the two drunk guys behind us who were redefining politically incorrect. They reminded me of Statler and Waldorf from The Muppet Show (www.bbc.co.uk).

My buddy and I must have looked at each other and shook our heads at least 20 times. I think they peaked when Hideki Matsui struck out:

"What do you expect when his eyes are shut 3/4 of the way all the time?"

Either that, or when there was some confusion over the price of a Bud, and one guy yelled to his friend:

"Great, now I have to drink a warm beer because you're a retard." I wonder if they took the short bus to the stadium (www.justtottheleft.com).

The funny thing about Yankees fans, and New Yorkers, is that they probably would have tried to beat the crap out of anyone else (especially a Red Sox fan) who said word one about Matsui. Kind of like my grandfather, who was occasionally intolerant of groups, but treated everyone he actually knew rather fairly.

That night we went to Hiro (www.ictv1.com), which lived up to its billing as THE gay place to be on Sunday. I was getting whiplash looking at all the hotties (including my boy from the Pyramid Club, who made an encore appearance and was still interested) until I had a blast from my past. As I don't like to identify people in my blog without their knowledge, we'll call him Ray.

***Flashback sequence. Pretend it's in black and white.***
I met Ray while flinging bracelets and T-shirts to the crowd on the gay.com bus last Pride. My jaw dropped when I saw him, and once I actually got up the nerve to talk to him, we seemed to hit it off a little. We met up in the 'Stro a couple of times, and I walked him home once, got a kiss, and got a date scheduled.

The date, however, was a bust. We went to Badlands for a pre-dinner drink, and started to dance. Ray could danced like crazy -- he had a day job, but took lessons, and danced at the Mezzanine mostly for fun. While we were dancing, he suddenly paused, looked me in the eye for a minute, and then said "You like me too much." (I would still like to know when this became a bad thing!) Unfortunately, he then invited a friend to dinner with us (not a bad guy, but there was no way it wasn't going to be awkward). Turns out he had a "sort-of" boyfriend in New York, and was planning to move there, so he didn't want any new attachments. Despite this, he ranks as one of the cutest guys to ever show and interest in me.
***
So, I managed to run into the one person I knew in NY other than my travel companion. Ray said "Hi", we chatted briefly, and we made blatantly fradulent plans to touch base later. Unfortunately, it became abundantly clear to me that I was not "over" him, so I slowed down the drinking and had a mellow night.

That's the end of the New York tale. I flew out to Atlanta the next morning -- details to follow.