Life in the Fast Lane

Just got back from my weekend in L.A., hangin' with the T-man, and a loverly time was had by all. If you've never done the club hoppin' thing in L.A., I recommend it highly.

Flew in late Friday night, after one hellacious day at work, and we started on Mr. Toad's Wild Adventure. He and girlfriend, C, took me to a bevy of places and we did not get home until the wee hours. What places, you ask?

Starbucks first, of course (yes, I know, evil, blah blah blah), to power up on caffeine. Did I mention I was dragging a little ass when I got off the plane? Then we headed towards a mexican place to meet up with some of T's friends. By the time we got there, they'd closed the kitchen, so we ended up stopping in at this awesome little Taco Stand. I swear, I was the only non-spanish speaking person in the whole place - felt like a real dumbass - but the food was definitely worth all my awkward, gesticulative attempts at pseudo-spanish. Cheap, too!

After that we went and did the Sunset Strip thing. Ended up pretty far west in Hollywood, which if you know anything about Hollywood, means one thing: GAY! Yes, that's right, we did the gay dance club scene. Which was fine... for the most part.

I don't remember the name of the place but T jokingly referred to it as Club Man Ass. The thing is T and his girlfriend were together, so of course they were pretty much unaffected. I, on the other hand, am a reasonably attractive, tall white boy who loves to dance. (And by the way, I'm not claiming to be good at dancing, just enthusiastic and highly visible during my gyrations.) Oh, and in case you hadn't guessed by now, I'm straight. So, while it was flattering to be noticed and propositioned by others, the fact that they were men pretty much nullified any positive effects.

The highlight of the evening had to be when T ended up having to take a crap in the men's room there. First off, the door wouldn't shut properly, so T had me "stand guard" and hold the door closed while he took care of business. Meanwhile, the bouncers are coming in every 2 seconds because they think he and I are trying for some hanky panky.

Then he runs out of toilet paper, and, when I go into the stall next to his, a guy follows me in and starts telling me how hot I am. You know how you never have the right thing ready to say in an awkward situation? And then, later, it comes to you what you should've or could've said, only it's five minutes too late? For once in my life, this was not the case.

"Thanks," I said, "but I'm with him" as I pointed to T's stall. Short, sweet and to the point. Yeah!

In all fairness, I should mention that this guy was very cool - not overly aggressive or gross - and handled my rejection with grace. In fact every time I got hit on that night, it was relatively subtle, and my rejections were politely accepted. Makes me think us straights could learn a thing or two from gays about how to approach women. Anyway...

Eh, its getting late. More about this tomorrow