Chrisonomicon

Thursday, November 28, 2002

I stood in the long line outside of the club, bundled in a leather jacket and gloves. The night before Thanksgiving is somehow the busiest day of the year here. Our collective breath rose in a grey puff above our heads and disappeared into the black night sky, whispering of fog machines and warmth inside. I tilted my head back and downed the rest of a gummy-bear Red Bull. M was in Kansas and Josh was visiting from NYC, so I had come out alone to meet him, braving the warzone of the interstate, holiday crowds, and the decked out, gussied up chorus line I was now a part of — although it could be said that, despite the weather, the crowd was "gussied down" in sleeveless t-shirts, tank tops, and various slinky outfits as gay men are wont to do, even in sub-freezing temperatures. I pulled my jacket around closer and felt unusually overdressed. Despite my foresight, I was cold nevertheless and rocked back on my heels, buried my nose in my glove, and watched the pavement as the line moved lethargically towards the door.

I had looked up for only a second. A familiar face drifted from the door and eyes that I had seen only in pictures for the past two years met mine. My black gloved hand reached out, blended in with the night as I waved and Josh walked over without pausing, saying my name with that familiar perspicacity, voice loaded with a sly knowing or a childish naivete depending on your mood when you heard it. He was drunk but coherant and explained that he was just leaving to get some sleep. Great, I had gotten there just in time to catch him leave. Programming my number into his phone, he said he'd call me this weekend, although I knew that in his state and with his track record, the next time I'd hear from him would be on some harried night, one, maybe even two, years from now. He looked up at me with those expectant eyes. I opened my mouth slightly, the question on my lips and he answered before I spoke. The rest of my friends were inside, he said, and I nodded to indicate I'd keep my place in line to meet up with them. Leaning in, he kissed me on the lips. I returned to the line and waved, smiling, feeling a little less self-conscious about being overdressed and alone, and headed into the bar to join my friends, much to be thankful for.