LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
VIEWPoint |
byPeter Rosenstein |
It Really is a Small World
As all of us in the GLBT community know, it's a small world with the same 100 people showing up everywhere, or so it often seems. I'm sure you all have, or know, many stories of meeting people in unusual places, where you may least expect them. I remember a good friend who traveled to San Diego and decided to do what he never did in DC, and that was going to a bath house. He felt safe and secure that 3000 miles from home he wouldn't run into anyone he knew. Well he returned home to tell me that he went to the Club Baths and proceeded to get undressed and put his clothes in a locker. He then walked into a dimly lit room that held a large hot tub. As he slid into the water and got comfortable in front of a nice water jet, the guy next to him suddenly turned around and said, "Jay, what are you doing here"? Jim, who was sitting next to him in the hot tub, was a neighbor and business associate from back home. So much for feeling safe and anonymous in far-away places. In a similar but less unusual situation, about 20 years ago I was in Europe, traveling by train, and decided to take a day to visit Vienna, the city of my mother's birth. I left the train station and headed to Shoenbrun Palace, the Versailles of Austria, with the intent of touring the palace. I arrived and found a two hour waiting line and decided I didn't have time to wait. As I was walking away to tour the gardens, I heard "Hey Peter, we're holding your place in line!" It was friends from New York I hadn't seen in many years. More recently I was visiting friends in Rome and went with them to a gay bar, the Cave. As we walked in someone yelled, "Peter, what the hell are you doing here?" It was a German friend I had met in Mykonos two years before. But none of that compares to a recent experience I had on my vacation to the Isle of Capri. I traveled with good friends to spend a week on the Island. They had arranged to meet other friends from LA and the first night there we all went out for drinks at the Quisisana, the grand dame of hotels on the Island. These LA friends had brought along another couple from LA, and a friend from Atlanta. So it was a happy party of eight and the champagne and mohitos flowed. As usual, when one meets new friends on vacation, you talk about past vacations, people you may know in common, and places you like to go. I talked about my love of Mykonos and how I had spent two weeks there over every Labor Day for a period of ten years. One of the guys, I will call him Jon to protect his good name, who was in Capri with his partner of ten years, said that he also had fond memories of Mykonos. He told us that during the six months he spent in Greece for school, Mykonos is where he came out and had his first experience with a man. That was sixteen years ago and he hadn't been back since, but he broke off his engagement when he came home from that trip and never looked back. We all continued to drink and share stories before dinner. Actually all one does on Capri is either shop, sit at the pool or on a boat, eat and drink and drink and drink. We proceeded to a wonderful restaurant for dinner, Villa Verdi, and were seated at a round table near the center of the restaurant. At one point during the meal two guys came over to say hi and Jon, who was sitting next to me, whispered that the he knew one of the guys but was sure the guy didn't remember his name, so he introduced himself using his full first and last name. It was at this point that I looked more closely at Jon. I brought up the story he told about coming out on Mykonos again and asked him for more details. He said he had met a guy and that though he spent only a short time with him he liked him and wrote to him, but never received a response. He mentioned that the guy happened to be from DC. I then looked closely at Jon and said, "Did you meet the guy on the beach?" He looked at me and said yes, but that he was a little hesitant at meeting someone so didn't go back to town with him but instead headed back to the airport. At which time I said to Jon, "but you changed your mind and came back to town with your duffle bag over your shoulder, and met the guy at the gelato stand." Jon then stared at me and looked more closely and it was at this point that I looked him in the eyes and told him I was the guy he met on Mykonos sixteen years ago. We exchanged some more memories of that time and confirmed that we had both had mustaches back then and that we really had been together for that fateful day in his life. I told him that I had never received his letter or surely would have responded, as even sixteen years later I remembered him fondly and have great memories of that summer in Mykonos. I told him I would send him pictures of himself on the beach that I had taken sixteen years ago when I got back to DC. It was at this point that we shared the story with of rest of the folks at the table. The Lemoncello flowed freely for the rest of the evening. Coincidences like my meeting Jon again after 16 years are fun, and the moral of the story is you never know when your past will catch up with you, so make everyday a good one and one you will want to remember. Peter Rosenstein is a regular contributor to Letters from CAMP Rehoboth. E-mail peter@prosenstein.com |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 14, No. 13 September 17, 2004 |