Bohoken was all kinds of jet lagged, just as he’d suspected
he would be. We’d both passed out around 7 after too much wine and hot-tubbery.
I woke up around midnight and forced myself to stay awake a few hours by
reading Catching Fire (book 2 in the The
Hunger Games series, LOVE!). I managed to
sleep until about 8. Bohoken was up around 6am.
 |
| in the glove box... for emergencies... |
Bohoken and I took the 5-Series into Palm Springs for
brunch, and the whole way I fiddled with the iDrive trying to play music from
our phones via the Bluetooth. We got an outside table at Peabody’s on the main
drag and had a pretty standard (non-alcoholic!) breakfast. Bohoken then took me
to Arenas Rd. where the gay strip is. It’s really just a single block of bars,
restaurants and retail locations. And a Circle K that’s not particularly gay at
all. Our first stop was Bear Wear, an apparel store that sells bear-themed
clothing, leather, sex accessories (like lube guns!) and Nasty Pig clothing.
We were in desperate need of shades (Bear Wear didn’t sell
them) so we went a couple of doors down to GayMart (I’m assuming the same chain
as the one in Ft. Lauderdale). We stopped in the Circle K on the far side from
GayMart to get me a Red Bull, and as we walked back towards Bear Wear, I saw a
man and woman walking with their toddler.
Woman: “Oo, this store has shirts with bears on them! Let’s go get daddy a bear shirt!”
It took all I had not to say, “Unless daddy likes leather
jock straps and poppers, you have no use for this store.” Then I realized she
wouldn’t know what poppers were.
We didn’t find poppers next door, but we did find a few
pairs of speedos. I was iffy about a pair that reminded me of the Jamaican flag
until I remembered the one thing all Jamaican men that I’d met had in common…
We decided to head back to the Ranch to hang by the pool. I
was planning to work on my post on the latest episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race, but the wireless would barely reach all the way to
the pool deck (#whitegirlproblems).
Michoken: “Ya like guns?”
Me: “I can’t say I’ve ever been a fan.”
Michoken (10 min later): “I wanna show you my rifle.”
He came back with the biggest, heaviest, oldest rifle I’ve
ever seen! Mind you, I may have grown up in SC, but I wasn’t exactly out in the
boondocks. Plus my dad my dad is from the non-huntingest place in the country:
the South Bronx. Outside of shooting a country cousin’s bee bee gun, my experience with firepower was nil.
It was obvious that this gun was a huge source of pride for
Michoken. He delineated its historical use, its technological advancements over
it predecessors, how to load it. Meanwhile, Bohoken was on a far side of the
pool deck rolling his eyes.
Then Michoken brought out the 6-shooter and the cowboy
boots. The 6-shooter wasn’t loaded because his cowboy boots had leather straps
with notches to hold the bullets around the ankles!
Ladle (from the drive thru-like window to the bar just
inside): “It was a ball trying to get that through the Munich airport.”
Michoken: “I don’t see what the problem was! It wasn’t like
I was carrying the gun. What was I going to do, throw the bullets on the
plane?”
Ladle: “I had to negotiate with the security officers. I
basically told them he was a crazy American, and they went with it.”
Through the gun talk, I was mostly nodding and smiling
because guns just aren’t really my bag. But then Michoken mentioned the leather
holster he’d made. I figured it’d be some rough Boy Scout project that just
barely got the job done. But no: this holster was professional grade,
intricately detailed and contained layered bullet notches all the way around
the waist.
I had to try it on immediately. Commence: photo shoot.
Bohoken: “Okay, now take the shorts off.”
After the Deer decided to pull out the red rocket for
Bohoken’s leg, Bohoken and I decided it was time to head back to Palm Springs
for dinner and happy hour. After a couple of drinks at Hunter’s (we left about
a half hour after the go-goes had started to occupy the boxes), we grabbed
dinner from a restaurant on the gay strip with a hostess whose lips reminded me
of Chad Michaels. We migrated to Street Bar, which featured a crowd that made
Bohoken look like a spring damn chicken.
Did I mention that we ended the night with karaoke at Spur
Line?
Yeah!
DR!P is back! Click here to check out the last one I went to.
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