a true story of Patti LuPone, festies, cannolli, and a creeper.
Exaggeration quotient: 2 out of 10
Fabrication quotient: 3 out of 10
Once upon a time,
There was a boy who may or may not have been me.
What a perfect day it had been.
The first day of my very first spring break excursion had been absolute perfection. After countless plans with other friends had fallen through, one of my festies (a term combining "fag" and "besties" I hope the popularity of this blog will coin in the regular vernacular) and I, very last minute, decided that we were simply NOT going to just sit around during our spring break this year. We hopped the Megabus to New York (from Philly, where we went to school), booked a hostel, and prepared to have a fun four days of Broadway musicals, fine dining, gay bars, and art.
My festie, hereby referred to as Lank (due to his incredibly tall, thin, frame), and I hit our first day in the Big Apple with a crazy fervor. We dropped our stuff off at our Harlem hostel, stood in student rush lines, securing an evening ticket to "Gypsy" starring Patti LuPone, grabbed some cheap eats, cruised the Met with a lestie of ours (I'll let you put two and two together on that), and finished the night with La LuPone belting a mental breakdown into our face, complete with full orchestra. Heaven.
After a long walk-while-eating-dollar-falafel back uptown to the hostel, chatting about the brilliance we had seen ("And I thought 'Gypsy' was about a little girl who grew up loving gypsies", said Lank), we were very tired, and sunk into our uncomfortable hostel bunks as if they were Sertas stuffed with angel feathers. We didn't share a bunk - the room was a seven bed room, mixed sex. Lank and I took top bunks, while below us, some adorable European young adult boys rested. One, though not attractive by any means, was certainly a gorgeous German aryan boy. In the third set of bunks, an adorable French man on the lower, an Asian fella on the top. Finally, above the lockers was a final bed that sat a quiet, nerdy hipster girl who looked like she had been there for at least two weeks.
I rolled onto my belly, grasped my pillow, and slowly slumbered into dreamland.
Dreams of Tony Yazbek's gorgeous body were completely inhabiting my sleep. He had portrayed Tulsa in "Gypsy". And what a portrayal. His handsome face, his dapper dancing. I was his Louise. Screw Laura Benanti and her stunning acting, I was be the only girl he...
I awoke with a start, face to face with the French man.
His hand was resting on my ass.
"You were...how do you say...snoring? [strange pig noise] Snoring?"
He removed his hand. He had been shaking me awake. The man was probably in his late fifties, and when standing next to my bunk bed, his face was eye-to-eye with mine.
"Oh, I'm sorry." I groggily answered. "I'll try to stop." (People always say that about snoring even though they have absolutely no control.)
"Merci."
The little man went back to his lower bunk across the room. I closed my eyes again.
There he was again...dancing...naked this time. Suddenly in the dream, La LuPone's brassy belt grew to a deafening shout...
"NAHTHANGS GAHNAH STAHP US TILL WEEYA THRRAAAWWOOO"
I awoke with a start. I was now on my back, but again face to face with this little French man. This time his hand was on my left thigh.
And I had an erection.
"You were snoring again. [pig snort]. Snoring."
"TOUCH ME AGAIN, MOTHERFUCKER, AND I'LL KILL YOU."
He got the message, prancing away in fear. I waited to him to fall asleep and eventually passed out.
Lank and I woke up early to head back downtown to hit up more student rush tickets. We were very quiet. As we walked down Broadway, the small talk began.
"Did you sleep well?"
He shook his head.
"Why not?"
Lank blushed. I've always had the biggest crush on this kid. He's always so honest, earnest, and open. Very charming. One of my dearest friends.
"Well...I think I may have been molested last night."
My eyes grew big. I inhaled sharply. And proceeded to laugh my ass off.
"MUAHAHAHA!!!! OH...MY...GOD...HAHAHAHA...ME TOO!!!!"
Lank looked at me like I was out of my mind (which I am).
"Jim! This is not funny!!!! We could have been raped!!"
I chortled. "Yes!!! Yes it is!!!!"
I've always used laughter as a defense mechanism against the potentially traumatic. This really was funny to me though - I mean, the guy was completely harmless. Just a weird little perv. If he wanted to rape us, we would have, and he was legitimately terrified of my threat the night before.
"I don't want to go back there," Lank retorted.
"Calm down," I told him. "He may not even be there tonight - and if he is, we'll ask to switch rooms."
This made him feel better. And to celebrate the ridiculousness of our situation, we decided to start drinking around...oh...noon.
Little did we know, the fella would still be there when we returned. And what happened next was certainly a comic highlight of my life.
Stay tuned for the rest of the story, readers!
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