Grabbing a post-theater (an excellent "Pinocchio" with puppets) dinner at Chicago's latest gay hangout, Hamburger Mary's, we were reminded of Bumbles by one of the waiters.
He was tall and oh-so-girlie, and apparently clumsy, too, as he kept hitting his head again and again on the ribs of the market umbrellas on the patio, saying each time "I'm too big for this place."
Clearly, he was, physically anyway, although one got the impression that he felt too big, too grand, spiritually as well, since his personality and girlyness were out-sized and kept banging figuratively into the confines of the space.
Couldn't help but think of him as Bumbles' sister, but Bumbles would have learned to duck.
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Market Days are long over, but two moments stick out ....
Market Days 1: When Chris & I stopped by one of the many, many gay bar stands for a quick pre-dinner beer, I was denied service when I couldn't produce an ID. And I had left it behind thinking, it's Market Days, who needs an ID? Well, I was wrong, but Chris & I shrugged our shoulders and said there are other places.
As we turned away (from the apologetic bartender), a cute 20-ish woman hanging with her gay boy friends (who had all just bought their beers) said, "They carded you?" (Emphasis was hers, not mine.)
At first, I thought, oh, friendly empathy, then it dawned on me and I was like, hey! What the fuck?
Market Days 2: Our entrepreneurial neighbors who already own several nail businesses are launching a new venture called Trim, a spa for ridding oneself of excess hair. They asked us to wear their T-shirts at Market Days to promote the place, which we were glad to do since they said this on front in all caps and were stylishly designed: "YOUR BUSH SHOULD BE MAKING LOVE NOT WAR."
So, I was wearing mine around (Chris & I didn't want to look too matchy, but now that I think of it, that might have been a better attention getter), catching the eye of a few marketgoers here and there. But few were getting it, so I was trying to turn around quickly to show the back (where the business name, explanation and address were) once I figured a reader was done with the front. Still not much reaction, though a few people here and there caught it.
Then, heading home and walking past a young, 25-or-so woman volunteering/working at one of the booths, someone you'd think would be pretty progressive, etc., we got the biggest reaction. She read the front, I turned to show the back, she read that quickly, mild shock and motherly disapproval spread over her young face and then she smacked me in the ass!
Bad boy, I guess.
