writing

And I will always love you!!!

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I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Dolly died yesterday. 

I read the news post just as I was getting up.  To say that I gasped was an understatement.  We’ve all known it was coming, but even forty years from now would have been too soon.  She is the best Christian that I have ever known.  Accepting of everyone.  Honoring her roots and yet using her riches for good.  

To quote Spiderman, “With great power, come great responsibility.”  

She spent her life making things easier for those around her.  She donated money in her very poor town in Tennessee.  She donated books to kids around the country.  And in the last four or five hours I’ve read countless posts about her generosity. 

I have loved her since her Porter Wagoner days.  My family watched his show when I was a munchkin and I can still remember his shiny costumes and her big wigs.  I don’t know that I was a fan back then, but by the late 70’s and early 80’s I was sold. 

I have had the lucky occasion to see her in concert twice.  Most recently in Bangor, Maine with Adam.  The show was amazing.  And to quote Adam, “I’m so glad that we saw her when we had the chance.”

But the first time was in 1989 in Atlanta at Chastain Park.  I had gone out on a date or two with a boy name Tony Giatras.  Two would be exaggerating probably.  I liked him a lot, but he came on way too strong and was a bit pushy.  That being said, after it was clear we weren’t going to work as a couple, we remained friends. 

He called me up one night, back when you left messages on answering machines and told me he had a surprise for me.  His surprise.  Tickets to see Dolly.  I was ecstatic, but also a little annoyed as he wasn’t taking no for an answer.  But fuck it, I was not going to turn down Dolly tickets to prove a point.  

A few weeks later, we went to the concert.  We sat in the back of the amphitheater.  We drank the bottle of wine we brought.  And we enjoyed it immensely.  So many costumes changes.  So much energy.  

I focus on this because about two months later, I moved back to Kentucky to attend grad school at the University of Kentucky.  Tony and I stayed in touch, talking often on the phone.  

This would have been the summer of 1989. It’s funny.  I remember, this concert plain as day.  I remember the year. I remember the summer.  But according to AI, there is no recorded concert by Dolly in 1989.  But I know that I’m not wrong.  

All of this is important to me, because three years later, on a random day, I called Tony’s number.  His roommate answered and I asked for Tony.  There was a pause, and in that pause, I knew what he was about to say.  

Tony was HIV+ and had been since I knew him.  Well, I didn’t know it when I first met him, but I learned it not long after.  In 1990, being HIV+ was a death sentence, but I held out hope.  He’d just started AZT and the few times I visited when I went to Atlanta he seemed fine. 

Fast forward to 1992.  I called Tony, and his roommate answered.  There was the pause I mentioned and I knew before he said a word.  He’d passed about a month before.  They had been unable to find my number, so they couldn’t let me know.  I missed his final moments, I missed his memorial service, I missed it all.  

He filled me in on his final days.  His family had relented and finally come to Atlanta to be with him.  He’d gone blind about 48 hours before he passed, but I was told he seemed to be at peace with what was happening.  

I was devastated.  

But.  

Because I didn’t have any sort of closure, I’ve spent the last 35 years just believing that like many people from my past, we just lost touch.  He’s still driving his beat up tiny pick-up truck listening to Skinny Puppy cassettes.  I continue to hope that he’ll call and let me know he is okay.  

Our moment in time, was brief.  Maybe 4 four months total, before I moved back to Kentucky.  When we met, I was living with my friend Shelley, with my stuff in storage, trying to figure out what came next.  

One of my favorite memories, is coming home to discover a vase of daisies in front of our door.  The note was an apology for coming on too strong.  Daisies are still one of my favorite flowers because of that note.  

This is not the first time I’ve written about Tony.  Years ago I wrote about him, and a friend of his found the post and contacted me.  I was so touched.  I miss him.  And will love him forever. He was a bright spot in a moment in time for me.  

And this is my Dolly story.   

Wishing you were somehow here again.

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I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

My latest writing prompt:

Write about a door you’ve walked through that you can’t go back through.

I got this suggestion a week ago and I’ve thought about it a lot, but I keep coming back to the same story. Every time.

In 2007, I spent the summer in Tulsa, Oklahoma designing the lights for The Music Man, Naughty Marietta, and Sweeney Todd. It was an adventure to say the least. I was sleeping in a dorm room, with a roommate, and at 42, it was weird as fuck.

I was doing summer stock, 20 years after I should have been doing summer stock. That being said, as everyone I’ve ever spoken to about summer theater, it was wonderful and terrible all at the same time.

The lead actors in the shows, that played in rep, were all professionals. They were all incredibly talented. The choruses were mostly made up of college kids, who were doing their first professional gigs. I can say that a lot of the people I worked with there have gone on to bigger careers, whether performing, directing or designing.

Eric who ran the theater company, and directed the show, was very creative, and the shows were always a little outside the norm, which made them fun to do. For example, for Sweeney, we pulled all the masking, and upstage soft goods and performed the show on scaffolding in front of a dramatic upstage concrete wall.

The work was fast and furious. The rehearsal period short, tech even shorter. I wrote 400 cues for Sweeney in about 4 hours. At the end of every break, it was like someone fired a starter pistol, and I was now sprinting toward the finish line. Looking back, there are lots of things I would change, but it in the moment, it just felt good to get it where we got it.

The highlight of my summer there was meeting Kelly Irwin. She was the production stage manager, and we became fast friends. Probably because, well not probably, we were the adults in the room. All of the lead actors were housed in donor homes, while the chorus, crew and designers were housed in a dorm. It was Kelly who reminded people to stop drinking and go to bed. It was Kelly, who demanded we all hide in the bathroom during the torrential thunderstorms we got that summer when the tornado sirens were sounding.

Kelly and I spent many nights hiding in her dorm room decompressing from the day. Sometimes this involved drinking. Sometimes vodka.

Fun fact: The evening I’m about to describe, was the second to last night I ever drank vodka. It was bad news. The last time was even worse, a year later. I NEVER drink it now.

On the night in question, Kelly and I hid. And in the process, we began to talk. About our lives. About our professions. About the summer. At one point, it turned to families, and then death and dying.

And then something clicked and we began to talk about become a member of the dead parent club. My father had died four summers prior, her mom the summer before. And we went down a deep, melancholy rabbit hole, and stayed there until around 4:00 a.m.

Ultimately, what we decided was that it’s a door no one wants to walk thru, but that most of us will walk thru at some point in our lives. We don’t think about the mortality of our parents when we are young. They are fixtures in our lives, fixtures that will be there forever.

Then your grandparents fade away. And one day you wake up and realize that when you thought your parents were old, they weren’t. Now that you are in your 40’s they are getting older and much frailer. The summer of my 20-year high school reunion, I had at least three friends, including myself who lost parents that summer.

I can still remember getting the call that my dad had passed. It was quick. It was sudden. One minute he was there. Next minute he wasn’t.

And this is what Kelly and I delved into that fateful night. It was a club that no one wants to belong to, but is inevitable, if you make it yourself. Looking back, I don’t remember for sure, but it might have been the night of the one year anniversary of Kelly’s mom dying.

It’s been almost 20 years since that summer. I’m in the orphan stage now. Both of my parents are gone. That’s even weirder door to walk thru. There is no one to call on Sunday night to talk about the weather. There is no one to call who can update you on the family drama. And suddenly you are alone in keeping the family stories alive.

I know all of this is life. It’s the reality of growing old, for those of us lucky enough to grow old. Once you get that phone call, saying “they’re gone,” there is no going back. It changes you forever, regardless of your relationship with said parent.

So I sit here, reminiscing about that summer. Pete. Travis. Eric. Ron. Brian. Supreet. Jenna. Kyle. Andrea. So many memories. I signed up for Facebook that summer. My first photo was of a bar that we’d been in earlier in the night. I had no idea what Facebook was, but I was able to sign up since my UCSD email address was still valid. We all stayed in touch for a while after that summer. Kelly moved to NYC and we hung out. Others I’d text. Most of them I followed on Facebook, till they moved on or my political posts drove them away. I still like to see what those that remain are up to. Some getting married. Buying houses. Directing shows. Performing on well-regarded stages. Designing beautiful shows. It’s still nice to know they are out there. They were a great group of people.

The two summers that I spent there changed my life. All for the better, although I might not have said that at the time. I’m proud of my work there, and the friends that I made. And the talk filled night with Kelly, is still one of the special nights of my life.

You left me lists, everything in lists, well, your little lists, aren’t very helpful, I fear

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I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

A friend of mine and Adam’s is friends with someone who teaches writing. During our last trip to NYC we had a quick meet up and we chatted about my Manager Posts. I mentioned that Adam had been giving me prompts as sometimes I had a difficult time coming up with a subject matter, especially since I don’t write much about the restaurant business anymore, although let me tell you, the things I could write about keep coming.

This is the latest prompt from her.

What is something in your life, literal or metaphorical, that you wish would miraculously last for a much longer time than it was meant to? What would you do with that extra time?

This one has stumped me for a couple of months. For several reasons.

First, my work schedule, as well as my personal schedule, have not allowed me much time to write.

Second, I’ve not been able to wrap my head around what the prompt actually means.

However, I told myself when I went to bed last night, I was going to write tonight, so here I am.

What is something in your life, literal or metaphorical, that you wish would miraculously last for a much longer time than it was meant to? What would you do with that extra time?

There are so many ways to go with this.

For example, I’ve always been allergic to cats. ALWAYS. My face would swell. My nose would twitch. And then I met Adam. BUT with Adam came Harper. And well, Harper taught me that I could love a cat, take a daily allergy pill and be okay. I was lucky enough to get to spend 2 years with Harper. She let me hold her. She would lay next to me after Adam got up in the morning. And when we she realized she was dying she didn’t bother Adam with her crying. She paced on my side of the bed the last night of her life and I comforted her as best I could.

The next day Adam and I took her to the vet and did one of the hardest things either of us has ever done. He held her while I stroked her back as she took her last breaths. We were both inconsolable.

I wish that I had come in to Adam’s life 5 years prior so that I could have that time with Harper. Well. And Adam too.

In my 61 years on this earth, I have lived a dozen or more lifetimes.

1. My childhood.
2. High School
3. College
4. Atlanta.
5. The University of Kentucky.
6. Cincinnati.
7. NYC.
8. Grad School.
9. NYC.
10. NYC w/ Adam
11. Maine the first year.
12. Maine the next few years.
13. Maine since we bought our house.
14. My senior years.

There has also been love and loss during that time.

1. The death of my grandmother.
2. The death of my father.
3. The death of my mother.
4. The death of my Aunt Doo.
5. My first real boyfriend Jim.
6. My second real boyfriend Sam.
7. My third boyfriend Keith.
8. My fourth “friend” Louis.
9. My fifth boyfriend Sam.
10. My 10th boyfriend Curtis.
11. My 11th and last boyfriend Adam.

There have also been so many jobs!

1. Day’s Inn.
2. Wendy’s.
3. The College Bookstore.
4. Martin’s Printing Press
5. J.C. Penney
6. Bennigan’s.
7. Daryl’s.
8. The Italian Oven.
9. Grad Assistant.
10. High School Teacher.
11. Hard Rock Café.
12. College Teacher.
13. Grad Assistant.
14. Lighting Designer.
15. Restaurant Manager.
16. Office Manager.

There has also been trips.
1. New Mexico with the family.
2. NYC in high school
3. Florida for Spring Break
4. Kansas City
5. Myrle Beach
6. Savanah, Georgia
7. New Orleans
8. Miami
9. London.
10. Paris.
11. London, Paris, Barcelona.
12. Drive across the country.
13. Drive across the country.
14. Drive across the country.
15. Maine
16. Texas.
17. California.
18. NYC.
19. Buenos Aires
20. Ireland

I could keep making lists. But I think I’m using them as a way of not deciding on one thing.

I do think though there are a few things that would really make the top three.

1. Grad School at UCSD. It was three of the most perfect years possible.
2. My 10 day spur of the moment trip to Paris with my friend Michelle.
3. My four day bike ride from NYC to Boston to raise money for AIDS research.

And I think #3 it is.

Tune in tomorrow for the actual post.

Everyone’s a LITTLE BIT RACIST!

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I’d like to speak to manager!

I used to think _______________.

But now I know _______________.

While Adam and I were in NYC we had a quick dinner with a friend of ours.  She’s a performer and writer who Adam met years ago.  I met her at Adam’s birthday dinner, three weeks after we started dating.  

She’s funny.  And very insightful.  

While we dined, we talked about a lot of things and my writing came up.  I mentioned that Adam had been giving me prompts since sometimes I have a hard time coming up with something to say.  And that was the end of it.  

A few days after we got home, she texted Adam and asked if she could give me a prompt.  I immediately said yes.  And the prompt was.

I used to think ____________.  

But now I know ____________.

I thought it was brilliant.  And I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.  With my work schedule there has not been a lot of time to write but here you go.    

I used to think _____________.

Now I know_______________.

Several thoughts came to mind when he read me the text. 

I used to think I was fat. 

Now I know I am fat.  

I used to think I wasn’t racist.

Now I know I was racist. 

I used to think I was right.

Now I know I was NOT right. 

It’s a great question though.  

I’m going to go back to the first two. 

I used to think I was fat. 

I weighed 225 pounds.  I had a belly.  I was in NYC walking the streets in Chelsea where every man had a 32-inch waist and .000002% body fat.  And they were considered fat.  I remember being embarrassed that I had a 36-inch waist.  I was too focused on my own body to realize that although I had a few extra pounds, they were no happier than I was.  

I wish now that I had embraced my stocky body.  I would have been so much less self-conscience.  It didn’t help that I had several people in my life that were focusing their attention on getting me to lose weight.  It never seemed that who I was at the time was good enough.  In fact, a boyfriend broke up with me, because he said I had an active addiction to food.  I realize now that what I had was an active addiction to assholes.  

What I wouldn’t give to be as fat as I was back then.  I AM fat now.  And at 61, it’s okay.  I have a boyfriend who tells me I’m handsome.  I have friends who don’t focus on my weight.  I have a healthy view of myself. Do I wish I was skinny?  Fuck yes.  Do I like eating ice cream?  Fuck yes. 

This is not to say I’ll never lose weight again, but I also know that I’m happier when I’m not focused on the negative, and my weight leads me toward the negative.  

I just bought new pants that are in a size larger than the last pair of pants I bought.  And you know what, I don’t mind.  They fit.  I look good.  And the reality is, I no longer care what most people think.  I’ve kind of resigned myself that the only time I’ve really ever lost weight was with the “divorce diet,” so perhaps Adam needs to break up with me so I can be skinny again.  

And the other thought I had. 

I used to think I was NOT racist.  

 But now I know I was racist.  

So true.  

I challenge anyone white person who grew up in the south to prove to me that they grew up without bias.  It’s bred into you.  Like bourbon and sausage gravy.  Seriously. 

It’s like the song from Avenue Q.  Everyone’s a little bit racist.  And it’s true.  Maybe you didn’t not hire someone because they were black, but did you ever tell a black joke?  A Pollack joke?  

I used to say that I wouldn’t watch BET until there was a WET, not realizing that every tv channel was white entertainment television.  I have locked my car doors in a “different” part of town.  I have worried about going to a wrong neighborhood when someone wanted to take me home with them.  

This is all bias.  And we all have it.  What’s funny, is that the people who protest the most that they don’t have bias, are people who have the worst bias.  “I don’t see color.”  If you don’t see color then you are biased.  Wanting to end DEI is biased.  Ending voting rights laws is biased.  As a gay man posting straight looking white men only on a dating site, as a preference is a bias.  

I still have these biases.  The difference is, that when they creep in, I stop them in their tracks.  I say to myself, you are being southern and you need to stop it.  And I do. 

What I have realized though, is that it’s not just southerners.  

It was just announced that Jasmine Amy Rogers will be playing Maria in The Sound of Music this fall at Lincoln Center and OH MY have the racist come out of the closet.  She is a person of color and you’d think someone had just slapped their grandma.  How can a person of color play a nanny in Austria in a play.  Here’s how.  It doesn’t fucking matter!  Have you heard her sing?  She’s brilliant.  She’s funny. She’s charming.  And she’ll kill the role.  

And before someone asks, NO, it is not the same as a white actress playing the lead in Dreamgirls.  Race is not a part of the show.  There are lots of plays that require the actors to be white. This is not one of them.

So please, check your bias. And trust me, even if you are from liberal California you have it. And if you are from anywhere south of Ohio, you were fucking born that way.  Unlike being gay though, you can change.  And it starts with acknowledging it.  Then owning it.  Then changing it. 

As NIKE says, just do it. 

In the meantime, I think I have a pint of ice cream in my freezer with my name on it.   

I spoke to the manager!

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I spoke to the manager!!!

Yes. I did. I actually asked to speak to the manager!!!

Adam and I had a reservation at 5:30 for dinner tonight. The only reason Adam wanted to go there, was because last year, when we dined there the mashed potatoes, and chocolate cake were some of the best he’d ever had. He wanted to relive that.

However, the rest of the meal last year was less than stellar. The service was weird. It started fine, but at some point, the server got annoyed with us, and basically treated us like crap from then on. The timing of the food was weird. Our second course came before we were ready for it, then we waited almost 30 minutes for our main course. When it did arrive the mashed potatoes were cold. Not like they had been plated 15 minutes early. Cold as in, they’d been in the walk-in and just pulled out. When we finally got the warm potatoes, as I said, they were great. But the meal was just weird.

So tonight.

We arrived and were seated at 5:20 for our 5:30 reservation.

We get situated and start looking over the menu. A server assistant comes by and offers water, and we ask for tap. Then after a longer time than it should have been our server arrives. Guess who. The same server we had last year. And it’s awkward from the word go. It’s like we were being waited on by a high school student. She’s asking us about our show, but asking kind of weird questions. It’s clear she knows nothing about the theater world, which is fine, but she keeps asking more and more questions, then responding with no idea what she’s talking about.

At this point, we discuss leaving. This is not the experience we want to have, and it’s not going to be cheap. However, we don’t want to be those people, and really, once we’ve ordered it will be fine.

Finally, she asks if she can take our drink order. And we ask for two minutes. This was a mistake because it’s another five or so minutes before she comes back. When she comes back she asks for our drink order. Adam orders a Kettle One martini, dirty with regular olives. He specifies regular olives. I order a Bulliet Rye Manhattan, not the one on the menu, but a regular Manhattan. We also order our meal. Shrimp cocktail to start. Two apps to share after that. And we’ll split an entrée. She walks away and by now we have decided it will be fine.

Then at least seven or eight minutes go by and she reappears to say that they don’t have Bulliet Rye, and gives me other choices. I choose Michter’s. She disappears again. 90 seconds later our shrimp cocktail lands on the tables.

No sign of the drinks.

And we wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. And wait.

Finally, a runner appears with our drinks. My Manhattan doesn’t look like a Manhattan, but I’ll make it work. BUT. There are three blue cheese olives in Adam’s martini. Neither Adam nor myself like blue cheese. In fact, we both kind of hate it. So he asks for the martini to be remade.

Did I mention that the shrimp cocktail is on the table. We are waiting for our drinks before we eat.

And we wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. And wait.

During this wait we are discussing whether we want to stay. As I mentioned its going to be an expensive meal. It hasn’t started well. And we’ve been there for a bit and we still don’t have our drinks.

It’s about this time the martini arrives and I look at my watch. It’s 6:05. We’ve been in the restaurant for 45 minutes and we’ve just gotten our drinks.

I look at him and say let’s go. We don’t want to make a seen, but we’ve decided we’ll walk down the street, have a cheeseburger, then get a drink at The Rum House before the show. He wants to pay for what we’ve gotten even though we haven’t eaten or drunk anything. I push back but I’m over ruled. The server comes by and he explains that we are going to call it a night and would like our check for the things we’ve gotten.

The server walks away.

And we wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. And wait.

Finally, I’ve had enough. I go to the host stand and ask if we can please pay our check. The host looks at me like I’m crazy. Then the server appears and hands me the check. I give her my card and she goes away. At which point I turn to the host and ask him if he can tell me what time I was sat. He looks at me and smirks and says, “You were seated when you arrived and requested to be seated.” I’m not having that so I say, “Yes, and you have a machine at your finger tips, that will tell you exactly what time we were seated at said table.”

He pushes a lot of buttons, and I can assure you, it takes not one button pushing. The counter is on your name; it will tell you. He says you were seated at 5:20. And I say, yes, it’s been 45 minutes and we’ve just gotten our drinks. And NOW, I would like to speak to a manager!!!

I wasn’t angry during any of this. Just annoyed.

But get this.

We wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. And wait.

Finally, she appears, just as the server arrives back with my credit card.

I explain that we are leaving, why were are leaving, and she says, I’ll give you my card next time you want to come in let me know and I’ll make sure you have a different experience. I say, we don’t live here and she say’s well let me get a card for you anyway.

By now Adam has arrived, and we wait, and wait, and wait.

Fun fact: Carry your cards on you.

She brings the card. We leave.

We paid 100 bucks for food we didn’t eat or drink. The manager was nice, but if it had been me, I’d have insisted that the guest not pay anything. I’d have immediately cancelled the charge. And I would have made a bigger effort to apologize.

Then we walked to Joe Allen. Got right in, and 15 minutes from the time we left the first restaurant, we had drinks in hand, and our appetizer had just been delivered.

We really didn’t want to be those people, but it was clear we were not going to get the experience we wanted and sitting there was just going to annoy us even more. So we left.

On Broadway!

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I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Adam and I attended church today. There is no other way to explain what we experienced. We were moved beyond anything we experienced this week or probably ever.

I won’t speak for him, but the show I saw today at 2:00, is single-handedly the best piece of the theater I have ever seen.

Death of a Salesman.

I’ll give you the back story. I’ve never seen this show.

And fun fact. I’ve never read it.

I was supposed to read it back in 1989, when I was a TA at the University of Kentucky. But. My friend Marie Henderson taught my class Death of a Salesman and I taught her class For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enough.

I knew what the play was about. I knew how it ended. But I didn’t know any of the gritty details. And today, I’m glad to say that that is true. I got to experience the show, without knowing what was coming next and it was stunning.

First of all, script is a work of art. It’s truly brilliant. The way we move from present to past, not always knowing why and when is a amazing. You add to that the performances from today and you get something amazing. I’ve attended lots of serious shows before, but I’ve never sat in an audience where the actors hold the audience in their hands as much as today. There was no noise. No shuffling. No coughing. Complete silence as we watched Nathan Lane and Laurie Metcalf unfold the story we were watching.

When intermission arrived, I felt like I’d been beaten up emotionally. It got worse in act 2.

Adam and I were discussing the choice to have some characters dressed in more modern garb as well as have some props that were modern. I thought it brought home that the play that was written in 1949, is more relative today than ever. We are just wheels in a machine. No matter how much energy and effort we put into our careers, at the end of the day we are all replaceable. Promises made, promises broken. We watch today, as employees are replaced by AI, or let go by DOGE, or their jobs are sent overseas and then we wonder why we are all full of anxiety and depression. You spend 25 years paying on a mortgage, just in time to watch your kids move on and leave the house empty.

By the time we got to the end of Act 2, I was devastated. I couldn’t keep my eyes from welling up as he got closer to the choice he was going to make. I wanted to stop him, but I could also relate to where he was coming from. I wanted to help his boys understand him, but also wanted to punch them in the face and tell them to grow up. The one innocent in all of it was Linda, who did her best.

The design was as terrific as the performances. Not the traditional Death of a Salesman set. It was more abstract, with a red Chevy on stage from almost the beginning. The lighting was evocative and helped tell the story.

When curtain call was over, we walked out of the theater silently. We’d just witnessed something special. It was a good 10 minutes outside, before we really started to discuss the show.

If you can get to NYC, I really suggest you make the effort. Performances like this are once in a lifetime, and I’m so glad I got to experience it

Let’s do the Time Warp again!

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I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Day 7:

Today was the best day of all the days we’ve had so far. Truly.

It started early, meeting Adam’s dear friend Ellen Goldin for breakfast at 10:00 a.m. at The Waverly Diner. Adam and I try to eat there once each trip. It harkens back to before we were together, stopping for a cheeseburger at 3:00 in the morning on the way home from the bars. I think they close at 10:00 p.m. now.

It was great catching up with Ellen, who we haven’t seen in a couple of trips. We caught up on our personal lives, then commiserated about the state of the world. She’s a nice voice of reason in the insanity that we are all living in. Plus, I got to order an egg sandwich, which I only get in NYC.

During breakfast, Ellen told us about a great world market that had just opened across the street, so we strolled over after. It was so much fun. The produce was far better than what we get in Portland, the meat was far cheaper than what we pay in Porltand, and it was the best prepared food selection I’ve seen since before I left NYC. Adam had a blast walking around. If I’ve not said it before a food store (grocery store) is his favorite place in the world.

After lunch, we subwayed up to Lincoln Center to see a movie. I have not seen a movie on opening day since perhaps when Gone With the Wind opened in 1939. Seriously, I can’t remember the last time I saw a movie on opening day. Adam and I barely, ever, go to the movies in Maine. However, he’d suggested we see The Devil Wears Prada 2 while we were in NYC, since we needed to do something this afternoon, and it’s fun to see movies in NYC where the theaters have more than 20 seats.

It was the largest movie theater I’ve been in in forever. We saw Blue Moon last November but the theater resembled a Portland theater. Today the theater had a balcony and the main level easily had 200 seats. It was also almost sold out.

We also go to indulge in some things we never indulge in. Fried Cheese. And. Popcorn. I love movie theater popcorn. Adam won’t share with me because I don’t get butter. I like movie theater butter, I just don’t like it on my hands so I never get it. He won’t eat it without it. However, I was happy to indulge in his fried cheese and the ranch dressing he paid extra for.

We both enjoyed the movie a lot. It was a thoughtless way to spend the afternoon, and it allowed us to revisit some old friends that we hadn’t seen in 20 years. It also allowed us to see all the characters in a new light. AND. It was nice to see a movie where the male characters were minor to everyone else. Who knew two strong women could command your attention for two hours.

After the movie we walked to Central Park and sat for about an hour. It was a beautiful day, and since we’ll probably get snow in Maine this weekend, we thought it would be nice to enjoy the fresh air. We both did some phone chores we needed to do, and watched cute boys jog by. It’s one of the best reasons to go to Central Park.

Around 4:30 we taxied over to Park Avenue for dinner. We were early for our reservation so Adam walked around the corner for a coffee and I sat by the fountain and texted with a few people. When he got back, we wandered down the street to our dinner reservation.

Tonight was our fancy dinner. It was at The Grill Room. It’s a restaurant that opened in the 60’s, and the whole space reminds of you of Madmen. It’s a midcentury interior and is beautiful. The Four Seasons ran it forever, then it closed in the mid-teens. It reopened a few years later with the current owners.

The meal was wonderful. We started with caviar and bubbles, which we hardly ever get. We followed that up with crab cakes and steak tartare and a Manhattan and a Vesper. We never say no to any of those. Then. Adam got the sole and I got the table side prime rib. We also shared a nice bottle of wine suggested by the sommelier. And to wrap it up we got a lemon chiffon cake and a baked Alaska. The assistant general manager had come by when we first got sat and discovered that we were both in the business, so she sent out an additional dessert, which I don’t remember what it was but it was our favorite.

Now comes the best part of the evening.

One of the reasons we planned this trip, was because Rocky Horror was being revived this spring. Adam has fond memories of the last revival, which I saw and loved.

But for me Rocky Horror, harkens back to high school. In the early 80’s in Lexington, KY, on Saturday nights. Rocky Horror played at the Chevy Chase theater, and then the Kentucky theater for $1. My theater friends and I would drive from Georgetown to see it. We would drive thru the liquor (In Kentucky, I think you can still drive thru the liquor store) store on the north side of town, buy a bottle of vodka, then stop for orange juice. We’d park for the movie, and drink screwdrivers in the car. Then we’d go in for the movie. (A pint doesn’t get four people very drunk, and we’d be sober enough to drive home two hours later).

I can still remember the first time I saw the movie. I was a virgin in Rocky Horror speak. I was obsessed. There were queer men. There were unspeakables on the screen. And everyone was having a blast. The summers of my junior and then senior year, I saw the film over 50 times. I learned every word of the call backs. I learned every lyric of the songs. It was me being able to be myself, without confessing to anyone.

In the late 80’s, early 90’s, Actor’s Guild of Lexington produced the live show. And I made the local paper, because I called out all the call backs during the show. I’m still not sure if they wanted that, or expected that. I do remember that it was a great production and I was so happy to see it live. I’m pretty sure Vic Chaney directed and @ I know Chase Clark played Rocky.

To say I was giddy with enthusiasm, tonight, would be an understatement. I was told by Adam that I couldn’t yell out anything, although a few people did. But that didn’t keep me from whispering the call backs to him for my favorite lines.

And my favorite call back is when Frankenfurter says, “There’s no crime in giving yourself over to pleasure” and the audience responds, “There is in Kentucky!”

My favorite part of the show tonight was watching the audience. The average age was 40+. There were people my age and older, singing along with every word. Bouncing and dancing in their seats. And then I look down into the orchestra and in the fifth row, house right, there is a 12 year old boy, singing along as well, with his parents. It made me so happy.

The show is a glorious chaotic mess. And it’s wonderful. There is glitter. And confetti. And fog. And sex. And hot women. And hot men. And real trans folk. And real queer people. And the lights are flashy and fun. And the set is flashy and fun. And the sound is flashy and fun. And the band is spot on. And I wish that I could see it 12 more times before we head home.

But alas that it not in the cards.

In the meantime, I’ll do the time warp back to 1949 and see Death of a Salesman tomorrow.

You are the wind beneath my wings.

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Day 6:

Today was a fairly boring day for Adam and Jeff.  Until it wasn’t.  

I’ll start with the fun stories for those who only read a paragraph or so.  

Adam and I were meeting an old work friend of his.  We were going to have a very quick dinner at Legasea, at the Moxy Hotel.  It was near her work, and since she got off late and we had a show to get to it had to be quick.  

We were running late, and my right knee was being a pain in the ass, so when I saw the long flight of stairs to the second floor, I requested the elevator.  We pushed the button and waited.  It came pretty quickly.  We entered first, followed by two couples and a single man.  The single man pressed the buttons we needed and the elevator began to move.  

The elevator lifted about a foot, then dropped suddenly about a foot, then the screen you used for buttons went dark.  We waited.  Nothing.  The single man pressed the screen but nothing was happening.  At first we were all joking and laughing, until we realized that we were stuck.  

I lived in NYC for a long time, and I’ve used elevators all my life, even in some questionable buildings, but I’ve never gotten stuck.  It was true for everyone in the elevator.  

The man standing behind me announced that we all should stay calm.  No one was panicking, but okay.  The man on the other side of me popped open a can containing a margarita.  I jokingly asked if he had another and he showed me he did.  Still no one was panicking.  

Soon the single guy, who was next to the screen took control.  First, he tried calling for help on the elevator system.  No one answered.  At my new job, if you call on the elevator it goes to 911.  He tried again.  Still no answer.  

He then pressed the alarm.  Now a loud alarm was going off.  Still, no one was responding.  Eventually, he pried open the door enough to realize we were still on the first floor.  He ended up prying them open about 6 inches and suggested we call for help, at which point the woman behind Adam on the other side of the elevator let out a blood curdling scream.  Like something you’d hear on Friday the 13th.  The man in charge announced, no more of that, why don’t you let me call for help.  So he stood next to the doors and began to call for help.  

Here’s the fucked-up part.  We could see people walking by, but no one was interested in helping.  The alarm is still going off.  He’s calling for help.  And after what seemed like forever, maintenance showed up, pried the doors open from the outside and let us out.  In all it was ten minutes at the most, but it’s a long time to be stuck, when you don’t know the outcome.  

Adam was very sweet when we got out.  He said, “I was just upset we weren’t standing together so I could hold your hand.” 

Once we were out, we walked up the stairs, had dinner and caught up with our friend.  

As for the rest of the day:

We had bagels again.

We saw The Outsiders again.  With NINE high school groups.  (There was a print out of the schools inserted in the Playbill).  The show was great.  And it’s a great first Broadway experience for kids, as there is fire, and rain, and the sets and lighting are wonderful.  And it really is a great score.  I cried again, even though I knew how it ended.  

After the show we grabbed a snack at Shake Shack, and NYC institution at this point.  

After dinner, we saw Beaches.  

On the way home we stopped at Dante Apertivo for a night cap.  I had the best boulevardier I’ve had all week.  The only thing that would have made it better would have been if they’d had Rittenhouse as the base spirit.  

Now it’s approaching midnight.  I’m sleeping, so I’m going to shower and go to bed.  

Near, far, wherever you are, I believe that the heart does go on.

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Day 3:

The best part of being on vacation is getting to sleep late.  We typically have such late nights that we rarely start the day early.  It felt nice at 8:30 to turn over and go back to sleep.  

We finally got our day started at 11:30. We had a 1:00 lunch reservation so we needed to get up, to have time to stop for coffee and club soda.  There is a Starbucks and a McDonald’s about 20 feet from our hotel.  What more could a person want.  

We got our morning libations and headed south in a cab to SOHO to have lunch at Balthazar.  Balthazar is the restaurant Adam and I ever went to that wasn’t a diner in our neighborhood.  One that first trip, we got chicken liver mousse, and steak tartare.  Both are part of our restaurant favorites whenever we eat out.  We also have them at home occasionally when Adam is feeling adventurous when he cooks.  His version of both are great.  

Balthazar is great, but the tables are SUPER close together.  The kind where you have to pull your table out so that one of us can go in.  I always sit on the outside, since I usually don’t fit in the tight space and I get super claustrophobic.  We got lucky today, we were on the outside table, next to the window.  However, it was still tight.  Tight enough to admire the gentleman’s Rolex next to us.  I love watches, and I have to admit, it was very pretty.  And the table that replaced them one of the girls had an engagement ring the size of Texas.  The tables were also so close that I felt like I was getting intimate with the super cute server, who kept reaching around me to pour water and wine.  

Lunch consisted of chicken liver mousse, shrimp cocktail, frisée salad, and French onion soup for me.  We then split a chicken club with fries for our entrée.   I have to admit, that by the time the club came, I was stuffed so I picked at the fries and enjoyed the last of the wine.  

After lunch we walked across to Hudson Street.  It was a perfect day in NYC.  Bright blue sky, and warm, but not hot.  Not quite perhaps warm enough for shorts, but you definitely didn’t need a jacket.  

We took our time walking as my right knee is in the throws of needing surgery.  It’s not quite there yet, but the time is fast approaching.  I have to take it slow, and not push it.  I’d like to keep away from the doctor for at least another year.  

When we got to Hudson, we hailed a cab and headed up town to the Whitney Museum of American Art.  Neither Adam, nor myself had ever been and we thought it would be a great way to spend the afternoon.  We started on the top floor with, as we were instructed to do, with a stop at the coffee shop, for a soda water.  We grabbed a table outside on the patio to enjoy the view of the city scape.  

We were sitting there, when we were approached to take a photo of a man with a very big, very expensive camera.  I stood up to do and he kept speaking to me in a very thick German accent.  I had no idea what he was saying.  After he handed the camera back to me, he back to talk to us.  I could only make out about every third word, but I did understand that before he retired he worked as a gas man installing pipes.  He was concerned about the fact that NYC infrastructure is over 100 years old.  He then perched his leg up on the railing so his crotch was somewhat in Adam’s face and begin to talk about how you need to have big hands if you want work with pipes.  

I was sitting there watching the interaction Adam and the old man (probably in his mid 70’s) and I could see Adam getting more and more uncomfortable.  I kind of found of funny, because Adam hates talking to strangers.  When the man left to grab his glasses Adam turned to me and tersely said, “Save me.”  I laughed and stood up.  And we told the man to have a great afternoon and we started our tour of the museum.  

It’s a wide variety of modern American Art, with Warhol, Jasper Johns, Edward Hopper, Basquiat, Georgia O’Keefe, moving to really modern art with artists who were born in the 50’s that I do not know.  I have to admit that I like the older stuff more than the more modern stuff, but it was amazing to see the political overtones about race, war, etc. in the creation of the different pieces.  

After the Whitney, we walked The High Line.  For those of you not familiar, NYC took an old elevated railway line on the west side of the city and turned it a park, that wanders up the west side.  It’s full of plants and art, and many times you are walking by buildings that you can see into.  There are places to sit and in the summer, people sell wares and food etc along the way.  It’s a great way to get from The Village north through Chelsea.  

When we got to 23rd Street, we grabbed another cab to go up to Times Square.  

In Times Square, we went to The View in the Marriot Marquis.  It’s the revolving restaurant and bar on the top floor.  We’ve been before and what it lacks in quality it makes up for in scenery.  

We took the elevator up to the 47th floor and got seated at a nice table next to the window. 

Do you remember how I mentioned that Adam doesn’t like to chat with strangers.  Our server was a chatty Kathy.  She asked about his tattoo.  She asked where we were from.  She would not stop talking.  Even when we were ready to order.  

Finally, we ordered, and she disappeared.  Adam went to wash his hands and she delivered our drinks while he was gone. Thus began a conversation about our drink choices, whether he was a chef, and what brought us to New York.  We also learned that she lived in California, Las Vegas, Boston, where she would drive up to Vermont.  

Finally, we were on our own to enjoy the view and look at our phones.   At which point I asked Adam if he would order a club soda, since she’d conveniently forgotten the one I ordered with my drink.  He did and she brought it.  

15 minutes later she reappeared to ask if we wanted another drink.  We ordered and at which point she cleared our empty glasses.  Including the soda water she’d brought that I’d take one sip from.  I was soda waterless again.  

It really makes me laugh when the soda water shenanigans start.  

We finally paid our check, said thank you and left to go thte theater.  

Tonight was Titanique.  An amazing show about Celine Dion actually being on the Titanic when it sank.  It’s a laugh riot.   We saw it Off Broadway three or four years ago, and it’s bigger and better on Broadway.  Once again, the audience was involved right from the beginning and they never stopped laughing or engaging till curtain call.  

After the show, we grabbed a cab, headed back to our hotel and now Adam is watching TV and looking at his phone and I’m about to post this and take a shower.  

Tomorrow is another two show day.  

Another Openin’ Another Show!

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

It’s the last week of April, which could only mean one thing. Adam and I are in New York. We actually left early and drove to Wallingford, Connecticut. It’s about 3 hours into the drive. We stayed at the Hilton Garden Inn there.

This caused the first argument of the drive because, when Adam got sleepy while driving, we traded places and he hooked up my phone to the car. I, however, had only put in Wallingford, to see how long it took to get there, NOT the actual address of the hotel. We figured this out when we didn’t get to the hotel with the directions. It was only a couple of miles out of the way, but it was late.

We got up early this a.m. and drove the rest of the way, making great time. We were in NYC a few blocks from our hotel by 11:30.

But.

Fun fact. You could not drive east on any cross street south of 34th street today. They were all blocked off. So, we could not in fact drive to our hotel. We finally managed to get close on 6th Avenue, and we parked illegally, while Adam took our bags in and checked us in early. Then we parked the car, and finished getting the rest of our things in our hotel.

Once again, we are staying at the Hilton Garden Inn. Not fancy, but we don’t spend a lot of time in the room. But it is clean, but small, and the a/c works which is always great.

On the way back down to the lobby, we were joined in the elevator by two 20ish guys. They are hucking it up about whether a girl becomes your girlfriend if you spend the night at her house. They were being loud and we were trying to ignore them, when one of them says, Hey. Let’s ask these guys. So he says, “if this dude here spent the night last night at a girl’s house, does that make her his girlfriend.” Without a beat, I said, only if you are a lesbian. They cackled and wouldn’t let it drop. The friend said, I told you. She’s your girlfriend now. As we got out of the elevator I said, let us know where you register for the wedding and we’ll buy you some China. And they started laughing again.

And we were off.

It was raining as we left, so we hustled to the subway. Uptown to Times Square for a snack.

At least once during our NYC trips we stop at Los Tacos No. 1. The line is long but moves fast. The food is delicious. And you can be in and out in no time.

Then we headed around the corner to our first show of the week.

Becky Shaw.

I had no idea what it was about. All I knew was that Jeanine from Handmaid’s Tale was in it. The show was excellent. So funny. And the set had lots of surprises.

The show came down at 4:30 and we ran in the rain to up the street to see Every Brilliant Thing. It was so moving. And sweet. And how they pull off the logistics of audience participation is amazing. I have to admit that I had tears in my eyes for the last 20 minutes of the show. It is a one man show, and Daniel Radcliffe commanded the stage even before the show opened. The audience participants were amazing when being put on the spot.

The 10,000th brilliant thing is “waking up late, with someone you love.”

And then, we had to move it back to the subway to get downtown for our next show.

First though, Adam needed a snack so we stopped for pizza at Two Boots. I hadn’t eaten at Two Boots in at least 25 years. It was perfect for what we needed.

Adam had suggested that since we had about 50 minutes before the show we should stop in Ty’s, a gay bar for a drink. I had not been in Ty’s since the early 2000’s. It has not changed much except that they take credit cards now. The clientele has not changed either. The same men who were going there in the 20’s are now going there in their 60’s. Adam was by far the youngest man in the bar.

Neither of us are “bar” people. At one point Adam leans over and says that he’d forgotten that at bars people just walk up and talk to you. This is after we met a very nice lady named Candy. She moved on, and someone asked if they could stand and share our table. We said of course. We were one and done, and so Adam ran to the restroom while I waited and while Adam was gone the man who had joined us asked, “Are you all going to the Eagle tonight?” I said, I don’t think so, and he replied, well that’s too bad I’d have like to have seen you both naked later.

I thanked him for the compliment and said that we had tickets to the Ken Rex across the street and had to go.

Adam commented that it was the second time I’d been hit on in the past two weeks.

Ken Rex is a one man show, about a true crime in Kansas in the early 80’s. It is a play with live music accompaniment and is very tech heavy. And I thought it was great.

I have to admit that I didn’t know much about any of the play we saw before seeing them today, but so far, we are 3 out of 3 for winners.

The night ended with dinner at a French Restaurant across town called L’Express. It is open late and worked great for having dinner after our show. We were seated next to a couple, who was soon joined by friends, because they’d just flown home from Paris where they had gotten engaged. The ring was a brick.

Now we are home and Adam is in the shower.

Today at the first show, the woman sitting next to us had the best cat shirt on with big black cats all over it. Adam complimented her.

At Ken Rex, the woman in front of us had the best purse and Adam asked if he could take a photo of it for someone at work. I’m glad he did, because while he was using the restroom at intermission, she pulled a burrito out of the purse and ate dinner.

Oh. The times they are a changing.

PS. Today is the one year anniversary of Adam giving me a pre-engagement, engagement ring.