I may just become a health fair groupie—and I’ll tell you why.

This past Saturday was a rainy one in Fort Lauderdale where I now live. From past experience in Rehoboth I know that when it rains you head for the mall in the morning and the matinee at the movies in the afternoon. Or, if you’re more prone to remain housebound, any kind of matinee will do. In fact, some of us just hope it will keep on raining.

This past Saturday a generous dose of liquid sunshine forced my partner, Howard, to cancel his almost daily three hour walk along the beach to Los Olas Avenue and back, and it certainly was no day for me to head to Haulover, South Florida’s only public nude beach. I only go there because it’s a gorgeous stretch of sand. The human scenery has nothing to do with it. Need I say more?

With those options out, we headed instead to the Seniors’ Health Fair which was being held at the Gay and Lesbian Community Center. It was an event which SAGE (Seniors Active in a Gay Environment) co-sponsored along with other community and corporate organizations. In part I went because I’m a member of SAGE and I felt a sense of loyalty to the organization and because I wanted to help boost attendance. We got there shortly after they opened at ten and as far as boosting attendance goes, forget it. The place was jammed and jumpin’.

An older guy in a western shirt was on stage with a mike inviting folks to dance and sing along with him and to enjoy the fair. Shortly there were several couples, gay, lesbian, straight and mixed, near the front of the room doing the jitterbug, the fox trot and the tango—all to the same Western ballad. Amazing! There were some sixty exhibitors so we had our work cut out for us.

One of the first places that we stopped was the booth where blood pressure, heart rate and blood oxygen saturation were checked. The two young male emergency technicians staffing the booth were friendly and welcoming, and, while the one wasn’t bad looking, the other one, who checked my pressure, was a replica of Tommy Tune, but cut in half. Seeing Howard and I together he immediately asked, "How long have you two guys been together?"

"Seventeen years," I responded.

"Hear that Brad," he called to his partner. "These two guys have been together seventeen years. That’s fantastic." Pointing to the good looking one of the duo, he continued with a smirk, "We’ve been together three months."

As he wrapped the blood pressure cuff around my arm and pulled his chair a bit closer, he placed my hand in his lap while he adjusted the stethoscope on my arm. In fact, he placed my hand in his crotch and seemed to take forever to get the stethoscope in the right place.

I thought, "Keep this up pal, and three months will be your max." But despite the intimacy of my position, my blood pressure was the same as it always is and I thought, "Damn! I either must have a low testosterone level or hardening of the arteries—maybe both." Something more positive should have happened.

We moved on and it didn’t take long to fill the free plastic bag with the sponsor’s logos on it—the first thing we picked up as we entered. We had informational brochures on cemetery plots, warning alert systems, assisted living facilities, reverse mortgages along with a sewing kit, packets of band-aids, balloons and ball point pens.

One of the best freebies, and the most popular, was Starbucks free coffee and cookies table, sponsored by the new Starbucks that’s opened in Wilton Manors, a predominantly gay section of Fort Lauderdale.

I don’t know why I pick up all the junk that’s on display at these fairs in the first place.

When I get home, I immediately dump most of the stuff I’ve gathered into the trash. But I do feel kind of sad for the exhibitors if everyone files past ignoring them, so I smile and take whatever freebies they have to offer.

The last display that we came to was sponsored by a seniors’ AIDS prevention program.

Two women were positioned behind a table loaded with informational brochures and silver foiled six packs of free condoms. What caught my eye was that the one lady looked as if she must be the grandmother of the Pillsbury Doughboy. She was short and rotund with a broad smile on a chubby wrinkled face and thin white hair was carefully fluffed in an attempt to make her look four inches taller. She was, however, such a pleasant looking woman that I stopped and picked up a six pack.

At age seventy-seven, six condoms might be a lifetime supply and I didn’t know that I’d ever need or use them —but, just picking them up and nonchalantly tossing them in my goodie bag was an ego boost. Maybe she thought that despite my white hair, artificial knees, and sagging abs I’d really use them.

I took a few steps past the table and then returned and smiling I asked Mrs. Doughboy, Sr., "Did you ever, in your wildest dreams ten or twenty years ago, see yourself at a seniors health fair distributing condoms?"

"Never! Never! Never!" she laughed in response. With a warm, motherly smile she continued, "But I’ve been doing this for five years now as a volunteer and I get to meet some of the nicest people. HIV is a real problem for seniors and most of them don’t know it. So, we go to retirement homes, health fairs and wherever we can to get the "Safe Sex" message out."

"Well, thanks for being here and for volunteering," I told her as I began to move on.

Her taller, younger, more attractive dark haired companion who was staffing the table with her said, "Wait a minute. You might prefer these." She pointed to the gold foiled strip packs of six condoms casually laid out in front of her post.

"These are the extra-large," she said in a purring voice and with a wink.

I grinned from ear to ear. "Ma’am," I said, "I thought food was the way to a man’s heart, but this tops everything. Thank you. Regrettably, the regulars will do just fine."

I left the health fair laughing and thinking, "I may become a health fair groupie."