LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
Gay 'n Gray |
by John D. Siegfried |
Flyin' High We've all experienced it at one time or another, that loud penetrating voice on a bus or a plane, or in a mall, that you can't get away from. Even earphones with Madonna or Streisand screeching won't provide an escape. Well, it was my turn to suffer that fate on a recent flight from Fort Lauderdale to Philadelphia. "I'm single and I'm not gay," was the penetrating clarion call of Tom, my seatmate on the aisle. His friend, buddy, and business partner, Mitch, had the window seat, and I was stuck in the center. I offered to switch seats so that they could sit together when they first boarded the plane but Mitch advised me that they never sat together. "The chemistry just doesn't work," he proclaimed. His statement made me wonder whether middle seat me was supposed to be the buffer that would calm their usual chemical reaction. As Tom got seated he apologized for breathing his boozy breath on me, fearful that his breath alone would be enough to intoxicate me. Both men, who were in their early forties, had loud penetrating voices that could easily be heard from wing to tail, and both thought they were cute and clever as they began hitting on three attractive young women sitting in the row in front of us. As the flight wore on, I felt as if I should ask Tom to breathe my way more forcefully in the hope that he might put me out of my misery. Tom kept offering the women the opportunity of coming to our row and sitting on his lap or accompanying him to the lavatory so that he could induct them into the Mile High Club. The women, fresh from a few days of sun and sand and nights of bump and grind at local clubs, egged Tom on. Several times during this supposed hilarious monologue Tom tried to enhance his image by loudly proclaiming, "I'm single and I'm not gay." Eventually, Mitch said, "Tom, knock it off. There may be someone gay sitting nearby." "Like sitting next to you," I responded. That stopped conversation momentarily and Tom began to back-peddle with, "Well, I don't think it's something you choose. It's just the way you are. Like maybe you're born with it." "One thing I know," he continued. "I could put you and Mitch in a room together naked and nothing would happen." I think that was intended to be a compliment to Mitch's virility, not my chastity, but I responded with, "You're right. Nothing would happen. And let me assure you that you could join the two of usnakedand still nothing would happen. At least not on my part. Whatever you and Mitch have going is between the two of you, but I have a partner and we've been together for sixteen years. This may surprise you, but you give me a hard-off so whatever happens in your naked scenario, it's between you and Mitch." "Me and Mitch?" Tom sputtered. "Look," I interrupted. "When you have to announce to a plane full of strangers that you're not gay, all I can think of is Shakespeare, 'Me thinks thou protesteth too loudly.'" The women in front, with very acute hearing, began to giggle and one of them shot back, "He got you on that one, Tom." On Tom's next potty break one of the young women moved back to my row and took Tom's seat next to me with the quiet comment, "Maybe I can read back here." Tom in the meantime continued his one-man show, albeit in a more subdued tone. As we landed and deplaned, a more sober Tom patted me on the shoulder and said, "No offense, buddy. Ya know, about that gay stuff?" "No offense taken, Tom," I responded. "I'd only be offended if your comments threatened me, and they don't." With a smile I continued, "Sometime, you and Mitch should try it together. You might like it. In the meantime, safe flying. John Siegfried lives in Ft. Lauderdale but occasionally makes it back to Rehoboth for a visit. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 16, No. 6 June 2, 2006 |