Wednesday, August 6, 2008
The Charleston Rag
Emerging from the Dupont Circle Metro escalators, Q Street side at dusk, Aug. 6, 2008
*Sigh* I think I may leave D.C. in a year or so, and then I'll be gone forever from here, and I'll live by the ocean, even if it's with my crazy dad, except see below.
Looking north up 17th St., NW, from P St., NW, into the heart of the one square block Mr. Sirius Forbidden / Exclusion Zone, on my way to Bua's, Washington, D.C., August 5, 2008
Did I ever mention my Charleston, South Carolina experience? It involved my being in a cheap motel with my father 26 YEARS AGO ...
... at the tender age of 12 in April 1982 ... shortly after a TREMENDOUS spring cold snap that included a 6 to 12 inch snowstorm in New Jersey - New York (while D.C. and Baltimore, OF COURSE, had rain but that's just par for the course then and even more so now) ...
... when we drove down to Charleston via the Cape May - Lewes ferry and the Delmarva through the Norfolk - NEWPORT NEWS - Tidewater area (when, I'm sure, there were some little ones who had yet to become fabulous and beautiful D.C. gay boys) and (via a detour) the Outer Banks of North Carolina (to Cape Hatteras and the lighthouse that was then in its old location).
My dad once drove me to the Amtrak station in Newport News in a rainstorm and we were running late and he had to pee, so he peed in a jar while we were driving. Classy. Actually, gross.
The "OBX" is where he would live years later, 2001 - 2004, and be banned from the Jolly Roger and be nearly stabbed at age 62 by the crazy ex-con boyfriend of a woman he was infatuated with ...
... and, somehow, on that long ago 1982 trip we ended up in Charleston, SC, where my dad -- then about 40 -- picked up some 20-something woman in the hotel bar and tried to have sex with her ... and I woke up in the hotel room, just to see my dad take off his underwear and see in the dim shadows his ... oh, never mind ...
(I guess the naked part is no different than WAAAAY back in Long Branch, N.J., circa 1978 when he would take a shower and I would frolic around in the residual shower water while he would shave.)
...and hear her say in her melodious Southern drawl, "Aaaaih wanna' be hehld, not raiyehp'd" and I remember starting to cry as I held my basset hound stuffed animal "Chester" -- this was LOOOOOONG before my baby hippo, Flippo, came into my life.
The ridiculously named "Imperial House" at the corner of 18th and New Hampshire Ave., NW, Washington D.C., August 6, 2008
And in the morning, he gave me a bunch of quarters to play some video games in the motel lobby, but I recall opening the door and seeing her VERY long hair and bare ass -- she was only about 5' 2" and shorter than me even at the time -- run into the bathroom. We ended up going to some stupid pancake brunch.
To this day, (1) he sees nothing wrong with his behavior, and (2) he thinks this is WHY I'm a gay.
AND then he told my mom about a week later (although I think I did too)
("A-hehehehehe ... Bonnie, I did something I shouldn't have and [Regulus] played possum ... a-hehehehehe..." )
This was one of the FEW times in my life when she SWUNG into action all maternally and got her boss lawyer to write him a threatening letter.
Well, it's all LOOOOONG ago water under the bridge, and it doesn't matter now.
I'm sorry, Dear God, for being such an awful person, and so blasphemous, and shrieking nutty, and, well, just pretty much for everything. Just, please, let me end up by the ocean ... the Atlantic seashore of the U.S. East Coast, maybe South Jersey, but, IF NECESSARY, the Florida Atlantic seashore with my crazy dad, in the next few years.
'night, Baby Doll.