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April 10, 2007
Whew!
So I'm sitting here in my SERIOUSLY COLD city where I have a boyfriend, a dog, and a job. I also have lots of pics, a torn fingernail, a nice redness to my skin, and a body that thinks that 8 pm is actually 5pm.
It was a really good trip.
First off, if anyone out there is looking to live out their hot gay archaeologist fantasy, I seriously would recommend Homer. Tall, funny, smart, sexy, furry, he throws a mean egg-decorating party, and from what I've heard, if he ever loses all his limbs, he'll still be able to knock on the door. Plus, he sure can dance the pole.
He also took me out to see his latest excavation, where I learned all sorts of cool things about burn rings, disinterments of bodies, and Tucson history. Who knew it was a flood plain? Homer did!
Being back in Arizona was a bit strange, as it has a lot of history for me. I was born there way back in 1970, and the majority of my dad's side of the family lives there. When I graduated from high school, I moved to Phoenix and lived here:
and went to church here:
On my way up to see my grandma, I went by my old apartment to see if it still existed. It used to have a peacock farm right behind it, and occasionally they would emit the bloodcurdling scream of a woman being killed. The complex was sometimes a bit dangerous, so the screams were sometimes birds, sometimes people. Good times.
I also drove past my old church, which has a lot of bittersweet memories. When I was younger, I was deeply passionate about my life in church and the people I met there. If I hadn't walked away from the church and come out of the closet, I would have been a youth pastor. I actually sat in the parking lot, debating if I would go in and see my old pastor Bob Hake, but I don't think he could deal with me being happy AND gay, and I couldn't have handled his disappointment in me. I was already stressed out about my impending visit with family, so I opted to just head on up to Prescott.
In order to deal with any impending confrontations, I fortified myself with the best armor possible:
Again, healthy food was not really an option for this trip.
Filled to the gills with meaty goodness, I wended my way into the northern mountains to see grandma. Grandma rocks, by the way. 90 years old, still drives better than most anyone else, and travels the world.
She also is seriously religious, and my father does not want me to come out of the closet to either her or the rest of his family. I don't like being in the closet, and I told my dad that I would only be 'straight' with my grandma. When you're 36, not married, and live in NYC, one would think she knows, as she does have a head with a brain. She doesn't ask me if I'm dating anyone, and I'm not going to discuss my sex life with a 90 year old woman whom I respect deeply. The rest of his family does not deserve my respect, so I was hoping to avoid them. I have a sanctimonious uncle who hates/fears gays, gives to Focus on the Family, yet he and his direct family have managed to break a huge number of the actual 10 Commandments (Number 1, 4,5,7,8,9, 10 to be exact), whereas my uncle really obsesses over obscure laws about man on man action in Leviticus. He also seems intent on bringing back slavery, as the bible allows it and NAFTA allows him to have a factory in Mexico. Bless him and his homophobic hair implants.
Seeing Grandma was good. We drove through Jerome, which is an old mining town, and to Sedona, which is one of the most beautiful places. It was shocking to see how much development was exploding across the desert expanse of both Sedona and Prescott, and Grandma talked about how saddening it was to see her towns ruined by strip malls and chain stores.
Everything was great with her until we got back to her home. The uncle's wife got there and prevented me from leaving until my sanctimonious uncle showed up, even though I had made it clear that I had many hours of driving to do after this. I then had to deal with over two hours of his anti-gay, anti-environment, anti-human rights, racist bullshit. I could have stood up, ripped him a new one, but my Dad wanted me to not come out of the closet, and my 90 year old grandma was right next to me. I just had to sit there and listen to him spew his hate and fear-filled nonsense (no, Al Gore's movie is not about saving owls, no, I don't have to wear blackface to get to my school in the Bronx, no, Hillary Clinton isn't the end of your patriarchal world). When I finally got to leave, I was shaking and about ready to scream. To add insult to injury, I got out too late to have the top down on the convertible. DAMN HIM.
I drove that night in an absolute rage, horrified at my own chosen silence. I was a wreck by the time I got to Palm Springs/Joshua Tree the next morning. Ahhhh, back amongst the rational people, I could feel myself charging back up. D & S were fantastic hosts, going with me into Joshua Tree National Park, taking me to see the ArachniBeetle, letting me get out the anger from the night before. Going into the silence of that eerie desert was the perfect antidote to the poison of the night before.
Palm Springs is a city of heat, really old people, and gay people. My favorite gay guy was a Thai restaurant manager who flirted outrageously with me, telling me to call him Peaches. Peaches served good food.
After I left Palm Springs, I got back to my favorite thing: driving in a convertible at around 85mph.
Nothing relaxes me like rocketing along in a convertible in the desert, music cranked, singing at the top of my lungs, feeling the engine rumbling underneath me, sun glaring down on me, sweat trickling down my chest, endless stretches of cacti and rocks sliding past me. Best thing in the world.
Back in Tucson, Homer was again the social god of Tucson. His non-religious egg decorating party was quite fun, involving tons of cool people. I discovered again that the artistic side of my brain is essentially dead. However, numerous other people made cool eggs.
Patrick didn't really understand the process:
And these two were so much fun, as the blond fuzzy one is a car god with a knowledge of cars that exceeded mine (this is a rare thing, as I know my stuff). His boyfriend is a blogger with a killer smile and abs who also likes cars and picking up heavy objects. Next time I'm there, they promised I could go to the Franklin Car Museum with them.
We went out the final night to a movie and to the gay bars in Tucson. We saw the movie The Host, which was great, except that the movie theater sold really good beer and I thought I was going to rupture about 90 minutes into the film. It didn't help when Homer let out a 'manly' yelp at a really scary moment, either. Arizona Chris managed to join us, which was a good thing:
The next morning, I took the car back to the airport wearing my warmest clothes and a little bit of synthesized vitamin D. It should last me until it gets warm here in NYC.
Thanks Homer, D&S, and all the people who helped me recharge.
Posted by G at April 10, 2007 07:47 PM
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Comments
I almost killed myself doing the pole dancing thing. I would seriously not make money doing that.
Posted by: homer at April 10, 2007 11:26 PM
And I did try calling you that one night but never got voice mail nor did I hear back! At least I tried! I wouldn't have been much company if I could make it since I was (apparently) suffering from shingles (got it diagnosed today). Maybe next time yer out here or I'm in Yew Nork.
Glad you had a grand trip (except for Uncle Dearest). The Loft is a nifty theater. The building itself (the old Showcase Theater) has been around since the 40's, I believe.
Posted by: Lee at April 10, 2007 11:59 PM
Your Grandma probably knows. I can't imagine how you got thru it with your uncle. You're a good son. Your pics are wonderful. Oh, yeah, and you're hot.
Posted by: tom at April 11, 2007 08:46 AM
Sounds like a great vacation! (Especially the Mustang Convertible part) :)
Posted by: Alan at April 11, 2007 10:05 AM
What an absolutely fun trip!! Well, except for the part where your uncle just rambled on his beliefs/opinion! gaaaah! And wonderful pictures to boot. I saw each and every one of them. Love your chicken shirt! *bok bok* [wait, is that how they sound?!?]
No pictures of you pole-dancin'? cute toesies!
Posted by: Robert at April 11, 2007 10:13 AM
If i were mad at anyone, I would be mad at your father, for putting you in that position. As for your uncle, hopefully his factory workers will revolt and he'll end up in a can of cut-rate dog food.
I kid, I kid! That said, I loved the pictures. I used to live in Yuma. You know what someone told me Yuma stands for? "Young, Uneducated Morons of America." I liked it when I was there, but I was only six....
Posted by: Jeffrey at April 11, 2007 11:32 AM
Homer and Joshua Tree all in one trip? Too much fun!
Posted by: PatCH at April 11, 2007 01:56 PM
"Still be able to knock on the door" made me chuckle throughout the whole rest of the entry. LOL!
Posted by: goblinbox at April 11, 2007 03:56 PM
I heard it was supposed to be 50 on Monday.
Glad you had fun in the sun. ;)
Posted by: Stash at April 11, 2007 04:31 PM
What would be the problem if the movie was about saving owls?
Posted by: GayProf at April 11, 2007 04:59 PM
Which Thai restaurant did you go to in Palm Springs??? I think Peaches wanted to be my lover when I was there, too ;)
Oh, and I'm glad you got to In-n-Out... it's one of those California things that just make my day sometimes ;)
Posted by: Shenida Weave at April 11, 2007 07:17 PM
Your grandmother is seriously gorgeous! Woot! Great post.
Posted by: Andy at April 11, 2007 09:36 PM
Sounded like a great trip! AZ is a state of "sprawl" these days. I used to spend summers in Lake Havasu City when my cousin lived there back in the 70's and early 80's. I'm told I wouldn't even recognize the place now.
Posted by: Kevin at April 13, 2007 05:48 PM
What. No one left any Homer Knock Knock jokes??
Posted by: cscfon at April 17, 2007 01:40 AM
sorry bout your uncle. i have 2 just like him--unfortunately they both live within 100 miles. i don't put up with their bullshit, though i do take the blame when fights erupt. sure, they can spew racist, misogynist, homophobic shit out the wazoo from one end of the day to the other, and that's hunkey-dorey -- but anyone dares to point out, "hey, what you're saying is making this a high blood pressure day for me," *that's* the troublemaker.
ah, family. can't live with 'em. can't stuff 'em in ceramic ovens. (or, wait... can you?)
Posted by: scott at April 19, 2007 08:01 PM