June 2000

I was in what appeared to be a school that had been repurposed for the summer. Currently it was being used for a social gathering of some kind, and the room doors were adorned with ersatz signs giving each room a whimsical name. I found myself walking down the hall with more curiosity than direction. Muffled voices issued from behind each door, though the hallway itself was empty. Evaluating each door as I strode down the hall I soon noticed that there was a direct correlation to the orientation of the hook-like door knobs to how many people were in each room. The posted room signs were meaningless to me, so I went with impulse and opened a door at random. The room within was crowded with men, all standing and conversing, some with drinks. I wasn't struck by the fact that they all looked pretty much the same (blond, loosely-curly hair, tight gray shirts) so much as I was that they were all male. I felt a kind of realization then. I didn't feel uncomfortable necessarily, but I knew that I needed to keep looking. Another room was less crowded, but I was again presented with men standing, talking. Continuing down the hall I poked my head into a room that was completely empty just as another man entered the room from an adjoining hall. He looked distracted, and purposeful - like he was looking for something, but knew generally where to find it. I decided I would ask him for help. "Excuse me, but where are the women?" I asked. He looked at me like he hadn't expected such a question and replied, "Well this is Paris." As if that explained it. I inferred that this area of the school had been labeled "Paris" for the social engagement, and had been designated as an area for gay men only. I asked him how I might find the women, and as he explained what I might do I became utterly distracted by the approaching storm outside. I hadn't noticed it before, but one entire wall of this room was actually thick plastic from floor to ceiling - the kind they use on construction sites. It was loosely fastened, and was bulging in and out as the pressure outside varied in the turbulence. I heard the man's voice still, but not the words he was saying. I was watching the dark clouds skating across the sky, amazed that they could be moving so quickly. In the distance the sky was very dark, and gauzy wisps of clouds hung low - nascent tornados. I felt that this storm would be a strong one, and was galvanized by the thought. I wondered though how well this room might hold up in its onslaught.

I was in the back of a parked shuttle bus outside the school, the storm was still gathering in force outside. I felt a little disappointed that I hadn't found where the women were, and said as much to my familiar up in the driver's seat. He empathized. Then, from the school came two women. They were black and about my age. It looked like they were casually wearing firefighter outfits - the heavy fire-resistant jackets, albeit without the gear. "Finally," I said aloud. I made eye contact with one of the women, though she was the less attractive of the two. I hoped that I could connect with the other one, though neither of them were really my type. They got inside, and the van got moving. I was looking out the window at the storm, but listening to the women talk. One of the women - the one I'd made eye contact with - apparently was lesbian, and was trying to convince her counterpart to fling with her. The other one was very reluctant. I was disappointed, though not surprised really, at my luck. Debris was being blown down the streets by gusts of wind now. I thought that it might not be a bad idea for the reluctant woman to give something a try. Hoping I might have at least something to contribute, I said without looking at them, "Don't worry. You won't have to do anything you don't want to do."