The 'f' Word

Yesterday, we went to a play called Popcorn. The lead role (played by a friend) was this crazy talking southern guy, who, along with his girlfriend, was going around LA killing people. It was sort of like Natural Born Killers meets Neil Simon. The theatre where we went to is located in an area of Sydney called Kings Cross, which reminds me of the Tenderloin in San Francisco - not as bad, but it is similar with its titty bars and junkies. When we first moved to Sydney, there was a series of ‘glassings’ in some of the pubs around Kings Cross - total jerk off straight guys, who once they got drunk would get into fights and shove a schooner glass into someone’s face. Lovely. 

After the play, a group of us wandered down to a pub located on the main strip. One thing I still can’t get used to here is that the majority of the pubs are these giant corporate monstrosities. It’s like those hideous corporate food chains found all over the US. We were there for a bit when one of the guys we were with noticed that the group of mates across from us where doing poppers. There was probably 4 or 5 lads (all straight) passing it around. A couple of them noticed us watching and they fell out laughing. When I started going to bars, I used to do poppers on the dance floor. It wasn’t until many years later that I discovered that people also used them during sex…silly me. So, anyway, there was something (ironic?) funny about a group of gay guys watching a group of straight guys passing around amyl nitrite in a pub that looked liked T.G.I. Fridays! To add to the bizarreness, David had stepped out for a smoke and when he came back in he said that he had been called a faggot by two different guys while he was outside. This is funny because of all of the faggots I know, he is the least faggy.

Many hours later, as I walked down Oxford Street towards home, I passed a group of silly young queens. One of them said something like – I wouldn’t touch that faggot – he was looking at me. I burst out laughing and kept walking.