queer and loathing

Tipsy thoughts, 3:41am in a cab.

This doesn’t qualify for a a full on Drunken Thoughts post, but it’ll do.

I just spent the last couple hours sitting next to some guy in Omega, trying to seem interested but not crazy too-interested. He spent the last couple hours talking catty with his friend about people in the bar and making me laugh —to myself mostly, I probably wasn’t supposed to be listening to them, cause that’d be kind of eavesdropping and creepy-like. His friend totally busted me a few times and repeated a few comments for my benefit. That was a good sign, I think. I tried to interact, but I felt like a dork for some reason, so I didn’t say much.

The lights flickered. the bartender shouted “last call” and we wound up walking back down P Street in close proximity but not together, if you know what I mean. We talked a little during the walk, at Dupont Circle I turned right and they went left. I missed the train. and suddenly had to pee.

Real bad.

At this hour it was either Kramerbooks or Annie’s, since that’s all I know that’s open with a public restroom. I’m still boycotting Kramer’s so I decided on Annie’s.

I was alone so once I got to Annie’s I requested a seat at the bar rather than waste a four-top during the closing time rush.

Of course, I ended up getting a stool a few seats away from them. I heard his friend say “ask him if he missed his train”, but I was never spoken to. I just sat there eating my burger and fries, wishing I would have brought a book to occupy my mind or at least brought the nerve to tell him I missed the train myself.

Literally and figuratively.

I’m home, so I will now say goodnight.

Goodnight.

Drunken thoughts — 3:40am: everything old is new again.

I’m sitting in the Bourbon Pub again for the first time in nine months and already I’ve been hit on by an elderly straight women, her son, and a homeless transvestite.

I now know what it means to miss New Orleans.