I have always thought myself a renaissance man and more importantly, an artist. An artist who takes pride in the craft but goes far beyond that of a craftsman in his work.

I also am very clear on my thoughts about artistry…both my own and my views and opinions on others. My views, before I share them, are without a doubt always well thought through, because that’s part of who I am as an artist…I think things through. I research and problem solve and weight my options ten times before I make a decision. Then once I make a decision, I rethink it again to be sure of myself.

I think the biggest decision that an artist makes is to put their work in front of an audience.  I recently had three rough weeks of typhoid aka the flu of 2013 followed by a cold which left my chords covered in phlegm. Yes, this happened exactly when I had a huge show looming. The hottest club for cabaret in New York City asked me to do a “One Night Only” show. FINALLY!!! T. Oliver Reid will be playing 54 Below.

Now, there are lots of things that factor into singing while sick…

Will the mucous stay off my chords? No, it won’t

Is it possible to cough your voice away? Yes, it is…you will within days

What are the chances that phlegm will take up residency in the most delicate part of your voice? 97% probability

If I can’t sing at my best, can I cancel? Absolutely not, if you are building relationships with clubs and booking managers. You can only cancel and/or wear bedroom slippers onstage if you are Patti Lupone. You can flail around onstage because your voice is not working, if you are Bernadette Peters. You can only lip-sync a live event in you are a huge recording artist, yes…Beyoncé. The rest of us have to outwit our voices and mix craftsmanship with artistry as best we can.

My show was a great success in my eyes and in the eyes of almost everyone who has seen it, so when I was reviewed and the critic  said things that were obvious to all, that I had a cold and was battling it and then said that the songs were vocally challenging for me… well, I take offense.

I am an extremely smart singer, I wouldn’t get on a stage and sing something that I had not worked through within an inch of its life. I know every song in my show inside out. I don’t make excuses which is why I never mentioned that I was going through it and wasn’t sure I’d even be able to sing a note. I knew if worse came, I’d give a helluva “sprechgesang” performance.

Sometimes the artist has to forego perfection in order to make a performance for the public…we can’t always perform at 100% but we will always perform at 100% of what we have. Restructuring songs and rethinking vocal choices  on the stop so that the audience gets a great show. That kind of work is as much craftsman as artist. You have to know yourself and your material in order to work like that…I am that man…that artist.

I take every opinion with a grain of salt but don’t think that I don’t weigh everything that is said because I do. I want my work to be amazing in every way, so when it is questioned, I will always take the comments and weigh them. These comments had no merit.

But thanks for your opinion…and remember what I’ve accomplished in less than two years… Yes, I’m extremely fortunate and totally blessed for what is happening but I’m also more talented than I would normally say, given my southern upbringing. I direct, help arrange music, write the script, choose the musicians and sing…. SING!!! I don’t leave any stone unturned in my work. I self-edit and know what I want to bring to the stage and I make sure that product makes it.

Think of me as a modern day Noel Coward with a great singing voice…your opinions are inconsequential to me…unless they align with my own!

Did I hear the people sing? No…not really.

Nothing usually makes me happier than the sound of beautiful voices and the swell of a full orchestra. So, after a week harboring the flu within my body, when Jeremiah offered up “Les Misérables” as a Sunday afternoon option, I said yes.

Yesterday at 3:30pm, we make our way to the Ziegfeld Theater on west 54th Street, for two reasons…one, Jeremiah has never seen a movie there and two, it was the only place with a 4pm showing. Now, the Ziegfeld is a huge, old school movie palace with carpeted flooring under the seats, reminding you that it’s off the beatin’ path for teens and people with children who spill…this is a NYC theater with a bit of swagger. And it knows it. You walk into the theater and you can almost hear the sounds of the soundtrack of “Annie”, the movie version with Ann Reinking, Albert Finney and Geoffrey Holder, when they walk into Radio City Music Hall, “Lets go to the movies”…I wish they had played that because it would’ve been the best music I would’ve heard in that theater yesterday.

As you know, I’m rarely reticent about stating my opinions but SO many people had spouted their own opinions that I thought gilding the same mediocre lily would be well…overkill. Well, you couldn’t kill this lily anymore than it killed my enjoyment of the movie musical.

I come from a world where Turner Movie Classics showed, every Saturday morning, the likes of “My Fair Lady”, “Camelot”, “Guys & Dolls”, “Calamity Jane”, “The Unsinkable Molly Brown”, and “South Pacific” just to name a small number of the gems that were released in the golden age of the Hollywood musical. I also loved…LOVED the modern look at the Hollywood musical with “Chicago”, this generations only real look at a musical on the big screen. I leave out “Hedwig…”, because although it was a musical lifted to the silver screen, it was by no means a “big” musical. Clunkers like “Phantom of the Opera” and “Nine” I leave to discuss among yourselves….I ain’t got the time.

The strep throated harlot, we all know as “Les Misérables”, left me, well…sore. If Victor Hugo’s historic book seemed a great idea for a stage musical, yay for Alain Boublil, Claude-Michel Schönberg and Herbert Kretzmer! But when Tom Hopper said he wanted to make a movie with three spoken words and no quality singers in any lead roles, with a few notable musical theater artists swirled into the mix, about a man whole stole bread, went to jail, got out and tried to change his life while a warden looked for him….for a generation, I probably would’ve passed. Dutifully so.

Now I am a huge fan of the period drama and revolutionary France?! Oui oui! Nothing better in my book. (Non-sequitur…you should all see the Norma Shearer/Tyrone Powers version of Marie Antoinette…Sophia Coppola should’ve been whipped across the forehead for her version)

Back to the epic mess known as “Les Mis…” It all started to go wrong when Hugh Jackman started singing. There! I said it. He’s got a fine voice for some singing…Boy from Oz, for example but not for this piece. Les Misérables is for white musical theater singers what Porgy and Bess is for Black performers…no I will not go there, either. However, I’d not go to the opera to hear Beyoncè sing La Traviata nor would I go to hear Mariah Carey sing Die Zauberflöte, so why should I hear less than stellar “stars” sing some of the most beautiful tunes of this generation of Musical Theater? Huh…tell me.

For blockbusterhood? Most likely, cuz every theater aficionado would’ve gone to see it with great lesser known voices, with the same director and sets and costumes…sans the pseudo meaningful performances.

Now, the cast.

Colm Wilkinson…no words, the ease of this man’s performance and singing was unmistakably seasoned. Yes, he knows the show but that’s what I want when it’s 60ft tall and blazingly loud. Bravo.

Hugh Jackman…people are pushing this performance like they push Tom Cruise’s heterosexuality…too hard and too often. His voice was nasal and unfocused. Yes his acting was exceptional but it was a musical not the actual Victor Hugo novel put to film.

Ann Hathaway…so thin…so so thin. She really does have a lovely voice and I appreciated her using every inch of her training to serve herself and the role. Her acting was heart-wrenching and her singing was more than adequate, for me. I must say, some of her choices during “I dreamed a dream” seemed, well…not right…poor and forced. By she’s winning awards so bully for her! Sometimes the cream never even gets the audition so the curds have no choice but to be scooped from the middle.

Helena Bonham Carter and Sasha Baron-Cohen…she was as she always is and he was the same…pushing potty humor to the point of no return.

Amanda Seyfried…lovely in an alien kind of way…her eyes are a little far set to be the conventionally “pretty” girl and her voice…her voice sounded like a faerie was punching her in the larynx, every time she attempted to sing.

Eddie Redmayne…whom I LOVE. Those freckles and that upper lip, I mean really?!?! However, his upper register was abysmal. He sounded like a smurf yodeling inside a steel drum. If your jaw is moving that much while you are singing, fire your teacher and go get a TMJ test…you got tension!

Aaron Tveit…broadway guy with a body to die for…should’ve shown more body. His face looked drawn and his singing is decidedly “pop”. Not bad…not bad at all just lacking the fullness I wanted to hear ala Patrick Wilson when he was singing like a stallion…yes, there’s an inference there but that’s another article too brace yourself, Effie!

Russell Crowe…wasn’t nearly as horrific as I was expecting. Everyone had vilified him so that I expected to hear the worst voice ever put to screen. Like a modern day, Rex Harrison. Yes, his voice is hooty. Yes, he had four good notes and he used them in takes that were left out of the movie. However, of the six final consonants that I heard in the entire 168 minutes of that movie, he used five of them. For that alone, he doesn’t get guillotined.

It must’ve crossed someone’s mind that when the myriad of filler characters sounded better with their four word phrases than the leads that something was amiss. No one noticed that? An entire creative team and producers…a musical director and sound mixers… No one?! Really?

One more non-sequitur. Please…PLEASE, don’t try to remake “Porgy and Bess” with Beyoncè riffing thorough the score and fifty cent as crown, rapping his way through catfish row. I’d have to protest. Seriously. And though we are all used to auto-tuning and lip syncing, please alert the masses of either occurrence before we find out. That’s all we need to know. Prior knowledge of events would’ve served Milli Vanilli. They were handsome…girls still would’ve bought their bubble gum music. Everyone still loved Audrey Hepburn after we learned that Marni Nixon had been the voice behind her beauty…TWICE!

The only two fully realized characters in that movie were the two child actors, Gavroche and baby Cosette. They were joyful in their dirt covered faces and their roles were well acted and they sang like little angels.

Towards the end…the third false ending, I will say…when Javert fell from the bridge and cracked his ribs on that concrete man made waterfall, my diaphragm breathed a sigh of relief…for itself and all of its brethren.

I didn’t leave early because I think there’s always something to be learned from art, good or bad. But my ears will never be the same…I grimaced my way through two hours of that movie and for that I say, Merde!

I, also, don’t follow the fold with my opinions…I stray. My French drummer was on the right bank, while this thumpin’ mess was destroying my eardrums and hopes for a truly great musical of our times.

The Martini. The Gimlet. The Cosmopolitan. The Screwdriver. The, wait for it, Bloody Mary!!! Yes, Those were the voices of angels you just heard inside your head. I never have to say vodka before any of these because you’d never worry about me ordering them with gin. I have long considered vodka the drink of the ages. When I’m faced with ordering a drink at a bar I will, nine times out of ten, order something based with Vodka. Unless I’m on the rooftop at The Eagle, a very chill NYC establishment that may or may not have a good mix of men wearing anywhere from polo shirts and sneakers to leather pants and work boots…in the heat of the summer. If it’s the Eagle then it’s a margarita or a beer…when with the “people”, drink as they drink. I’ve always loved vodka for its versatility when mixed with a sundry of flavors. However, vodka has many MANY uses… sedative, deodorizer, cleanser and disinfectant.

SEDATIVE

Many years ago, when I was young and fresh off of drinking the “sweet” drinks, you know the ones. The ones that will have you cradling the toilet in a hotel room outside of Denver, CO on a full night of drinking and dancing with people who were not as cute in the light as they were in a dark club…it happens. Nonsequitur…always carry a pin light, just for checking the face of your dancing partner. Anyway, the first time I order a “Vodka rocks”, my friends knew I was finally an adult and a civilized drinker.

After years of drinking and not drinking and drinking again, I found that there was little that was better than a boozy brunch with friends and that is when Mary…Bloody Mary, came into my life. She also brought about the double bonus of having a drink and half a xanie with brunch which I HEAR is a dangerous combination, so please don’t try it at home…I am a grown ass professional. Having made this full disclosure, I must say that the brunch phenomenon is the perfect way to relax and laugh with friends, to eat and talk, to buy drinks, without inhibition, for attractive diners who you may be making eyes at. But careful, it’s also can be the impetus for what we now call PBDS, Post Brunch Drunk Shopping. PBDS is an issue for the advanced drinker. Most people would simply pass out after being over-served at brunch. Not me and not my friends…Grown Ass Professionals.

On several occasions, we would find ourselves leaving brunch and window shopping in some of the meatpacking districts high end boutiques. When you are browsing with drunk friends and they tell you something looks good on you, it’s difficult to say no…even when you have neglected to check the prices of said pretty purchases. There have been $700 dollar designer sweaters purchased and accidently put into the dirty clothes hamper. That Christian Dior sweater now will only fit a 6 year old girl. There was the purchase of the $500 Raybans that were purchased…they are 23kt gold! I mean, right?! I won’t even mention the Thom Browne “Short suit” that one of us purchased…a short suit!

And we won’t even mention the drunk texting that may or may not happen when enjoying the goodnesses of vodka on a Sunday Brunchday!

Drinker beware!!! Be sure to drink water between your adult bevies. Or do as I do and drink vodka with water on the rocks…it relaxes and hydrates at the same time! The more you know!

DEODORIZER

Being a veteran of many Broadway shows and understanding the work that goes into putting on a show, I know that the blood, sweat and tears of the stage can only be cleaned by vodka, in a spray bottle, no less!

No, this is not just for the dresser and wardrobe department to drink on the job. Sprayed vodka is used to curb the smell of the large hairy character man who sweats profusely. Sprayed vodka is also used to cover the smells of young vegan dancing girls who don’t realize that we all smell that asparagus she ate for lunch…sautéed in garlic.

Yes, vodka in a spray bottle is cheaper than febreze and has no smell when it dries unlike the afore mentioned febreze and it’s odor covering brethren but it’s an awful misuse of the grey goose!!! However, if ever an actor is having a panic attack or comes into bad news…unscrew the bottle and take a gulp. It’s better than any first aid kit.

CLEANSER AND DISINFECTANT

Let me preface this section by telling you how much I love a good stripper. A GOOD STRIPPER!

I have always had a special place in my heart to exotic dancer/stripper types. There is something abso-fuckin-lutely alluring about them and then intense focus it must take to have someone willing tuck hundreds of one dollar bills into the g-string, sock, money-band of swarthy Italians, latin papi chulos and mandingo’d black dancers with names like, Zeus, Apollo, José, Juan, Jermaine, Adonis and yes, Mandingo.

My first time ever in a real strip club was at the Gaiety. The Gaiety was a venerable adult entertainment club that closed about six years ago…which lasted more than a decade longer than the other clubs of it’s type in midtown Manhattan. Now, you couldn’t drink at the Gaiety, they only had “punch”.  Something tells me that punch was neither kosher nor was it really punch. Be that as it may, you’d walk up a tiny staircase that looked like it was out of a Tim Burton movie. I kept thinking Helena Bonham Carter was going to be at the booth to take our money. No such luck, just an obese person who could’ve been a man or woman at some point in “its” life but there were dick dancers waiting so I paid my money and we took our seats.

Here’s how it worked, a dancer would come out fully clothed and dance for a few minutes to a crappy song then go backstage, “fluff” and come out for a second dance in his full glory and pry the money out of the hands of the 75 yr old man who had been seated in the front chair for a decade. I wished, however, that while the dancer was backstage “Fluffing” that another guy would come out and do his first dance. It sometimes took the dancers a while to get in the mood and the customers would be sitting and waiting or sitting and laughing if you were with me, for the performer to come onstage. They simply needed a good director to keep the show moving forward. For the record, you could not touch these dancers because it was a lawful establishment…much like at the VIP room aka 20/20 club.

At 20/20 things are a little nicer, carpeted entrance with a cute-ish kid taking your money. Not everything at 20/20 is kind of equal. $20 to get in, $20 drinks and $20 for a “dance”. Word of warning, each song is considered a dance, so don’t go getting all into the music or you’ll go home broke. It was at this club that I realized the sanitary properties of vodka. Sometimes when “dancing with a handsome devil in the moonlight”, bodies collide like two pigs in a pen and you may get someone’s sweat on you. You may find yourself groped or groping in the name of business. One really should get one’s value out of each $20 dollar bill. We ARE in a recession, after all.

It was in such a circumstance that I realized that vodka can be used as a hand sanitizer or DISINFECTANT, much like a Clorox wipe. While no one is looking, simply take your vodka/water/rocks and put it under the rim of the bar and douse your hands in it. I do this under the bar because I don’t want to offend the strippers…I also don’t want to touch my face or rub my eyes after having a moment with a stripper and his sweat. Then repeat the dousing and let your hands air dry.

I have another great stripper story but that has nothing to do with vodka…it’ll wait.

For now, just thank the heavens for the sedating, deodorizing, cleansing and disinfecting versatility of Grey goose, Belvedere, Absolut, Stolichnaya and the lot. And remember with vodka and strippers, after the first drink, no one can really tell the good hooch from the bad! Enjoy all in moderation.

On Monday, September 24, 2012 I received one of the best compliments ever from the playwright, Terrence McNally, after singing at a tribute to him produced by the Westport Country Playhouse. Mr. McNally, for those who are unaware, is the playwright of some of this generations most moving theater pieces including, “Love, Valour, Compassion!”, “The Lisbon Traviata”, “Lips Together, Teeth Apart”, the book of the musical, “Kiss of the Spiderwoman” and “Ragtime”. He was an absolute joy as was the evening. However, getting to that point was a week of processing and re-evaluation.

Rewind two weeks…I received a text from friend and director-choreographer of the event asking if I’d be interested in being a part of the festivities. He mentioned the musical director whom I have known for all of her adult life and I, of course, said yes. I assumed they were asking because they wanted to have some “up and coming” talents perform some of the beautiful music of the musicals Mr. McNally brought to life. Being the new generation of cabaret and having four, count ‘em…FOUR amazing notices in the NY Times for my singing, I was certain that was the reason for asking. It wasn’t. I later learned that I was part of an ensemble of performers keeping things going around the “Big” stars. I was not amused but I am a friend with both of the people putting together this show and loyalty won out over any ego I had about doing ensemble work at this point in my life. So I stuck to my original answer and continued on my journey to Westport. I hope they have hot springs there; I may need the healing waters.

First rehearsal…the kids and me.

I walked into a rehearsal room at 6pm on a Monday night, September 17, 2012, to see my old friends working away and to see a room full of 20somethings talking “showbiz” talk. You all know how I dislike that. Part of the reason that I have fewer theatrical friends than most theater people is because actors have a tendency to be, well…theatrical, which I truly do detest. There’s nothing less enjoyable than hearing people one up each other with stories of past shows and their “good” friends, some random celebrity. I know too many people and have worked with too many stars to be hoodwinked into believing or caring about stories of regalia.

Don’t get me wrong, they were all sweet kids and very talented but I’ll keep my quiet flame and ten shows to their over talkative, first show selves everyday. Everything uttered from someone’s mouth can’t be about one’s self. (This coming from the man who is writing a blog about his own life…)

So the rehearsals were going well, I find out that I will be singing some of the Coalhouse Walker Jr. music from “Ragtime” which I love and made saying yes to ensemble more bearable.  We were all having fun except for “Lyle” who missed two days of rehearsals and then decided not to take part. One person down…may more to go. We continue with the week of rehearsals and soon another person drops out…two down. Then by the end of the week, one of the “stars” hadn’t realized that she needed to memorize one of her songs for the dance number…DANCE NUMBER, so one of the ensemble girls takes over that number. Now this girl was married to the guy who is now in a relationship with the actress on “Smash” who was on “Will & Grace”. They ended their respective relationships to be with each other. How nice for them…how nice for everyone, including the blonde bombshell who got dumped and Debra Messing’s husband…I mean, “the unnamed TV star”…allegedly. For us, the show must go on and by goodness it did!

I must say that the director-choreographer is a great talent and a sweet guy and was a joy to watch work. I’d work with him anytime. It was really nice to see his attention and intention to telling the story clearly and well. He is going to do amazing things, me thinks.

Monday morning!!! 10am…you heard me. It’s the day of the show, y’all!!!

I have passed the point of looking just any kind of way for a trip, even on a van, so I got up, showered, packed my bag and dressed like an adult. I do love a cute travel outfit. I get to our meeting location, the NW corner of 44^th street and 8^th avenue…classy.

The van arrives, I take the passenger seat and the kids load up in the rear. Vans make me claustrophobic so there really was no chance of me sitting in the rear unless Gloria Vanderbilt and Anderson Cooper had been flanking me for the ride to Connecticut. We left a little after 10am for an hour and fifteen-minute drive to Westport, CT to make an 11:30am rehearsal, during rush hour on a Monday. Suffice it to say, we were late and I had to use my iphone’s GPS because the driver got lost right at the end of the trip. Again…classy!

The Westport Country Playhouse is a gem in a pristine little town. It’s the kind of place you want to go to present new works and sleepy esoteric plays and to be creative. Many have graced the stage of this theater and I hope to again someday.

The day went along easily…we rehearsed and ate, rehearsed and ate again then rehearsed a little more. Then ate again. The stars, all friends of Mr. McNally’s, arrived in the afternoon to run their segments… Marin Mazzie, Malcolm Gets, John Glover, Richard Thomas and Tyne Daly. The show begins with my voice making an introduction. I was asked to be the Voice of God, for several announcements during the program, which I didn’t mind at all. We went through segment after segment with the audience loving every moment of the evening. As we approached the end, we’d heard that there would be a secret guest appearance. Chita? Stokes? Nope, Nathan Lane. He was light and amusing like a pinot grigio purchased on a whim! Then came the “Ragtime” segment. The audience roared with applause I we stood on stage. Me standing next to Marin Mazzie, who was center, singing to the rafters. After we finished, the rest of the performers came onstage and Tyne Daly performed a monologue from “Master Class” with each of us transfixed to her as she spoke to the audience members and the performers alike. Once in a lifetime moment.

After we left the stage, Marin came up to me and asked if I’d done the role before and when I said no, she told me that I was wonderful and should do it this role everywhere. WOW! From the woman…the artist who created the role of Mother and sang, “Back to before” in a way that will make it hard for any other performer to leave their mark on it. Sheer wonder!

Once we arrived at the after party, at which we were not allowed to eat …ensemble treatment, after all, I was standing with another playwright/librettist with whom I’ve worked when Marin came up to me with Terrence McNally, himself, who told me that I was brilliant and that I should be singing that music everywhere. My heart stopped for a moment at his generosity and infectious smile. He then told me that his husband was one of the producer’s of “Cotton Club Parade” which I’ll be doing next. Apparently he whispered to Mr. McNally during the “Ragtime” segment, “He’s one of ours!” and I am!

So after a glass of prosecco and a procured bottle of Grey Goose, I got my bag cuz we were leaving! Back on the van and after a quick stop at McDonald’s for a late night snack, I was back home and went to sleep smiling at the wonder that happened to me, all because of two friends, some loyalty and some beautiful lyrics…

”Now she is haunting me, just like a melody, the only song I seem to know…Sarah my life has change, Sarah I miss you so, Sarah I did you wrong, Sarah, where did you go?”

I am moving forward, “on the wheels of a dream”! What a difference a week makes!!!

Seeking: a group to traverse the wilderness of West Virginia. Said group will sleep in a rustic cabin, start their own fires, cook over those open fires, tube down the rapids where the Potomac River meets the Shenandoah.

Doesn’t sound like me, does it?

That’s because it’s not but add in air conditioning, a heated swimming pool, lots of beer, wine and champagne, bathrooms with private shower stalls and lots of friends & laughter and it changes the possibilities considerably. I mean, add in a cashmere cardigan and khakis and it almost sounds like a scene out of a Tom Ford cinematic extravaganza.

Harpers Ferry, West Virginia. The stage of John Brown’s Raid, the beginnings of the NAACP’s Niagara movement, numerous river floodings in the late 19th and early 20th centuries and home of the annual Labor Day Kamping trip…started by my very own, Jeremiah Feather.

This year’s trip was almost not meant to be. We had planned for a weekend in Provincetown, MA with friends. Several days of sun and fun with copious amounts of alcohol. Honestly, not at all different from the weekend we had. Luckily, alcohol tastes good no matter where you chill it! Amen to that!!!

Start your engines! NYC to Washington, DC!

DISCLOSURE! I will be modifying the names of the drunks for legal purposes…except for my own and Jeremiah’s…

As with any trip planned by a gay man, we MAY have overpacked…three cars, eight people and enough food, drink and clothes for 16 campers and four cars. Still, we make it work…that’s what the gays do.

NEXT STOP, HARPERS FERRY, WV…well, not exactly. First a stop at Costco. Now, HARPERS FERRY! Well, not just yet. What could make a road trip better for me? A stop in Leesburg, VA where some substantial Civil War battle must’ve been fought but for me, it’s the home of ” The Leesburg Premium Outlet Shops”. A little pre-Kamp retail therapy at Williams-Sonoma, Burberry, J Crew and Barneys. Yes, BARNEYS!!! Ah sweet mystery of life! You may call it any other group of outlet stores but I call it kismet. I mean, not two days earlier, I saw a gentleman on my flight to NC wearing the Adam Kimmel for Carhartt navy blazer and knew I needed to purchase this jacket. $410 dollars online. I mentioned it to Jeremiah and wouldn’t ya know that we walked into “Mecca off Madison” aka the Barney’s outlet and there it was…for $150 schmackaroos! Kismet!

(Two hours laters after also spotting the dreaded Chick-fil-a and opting for quiznos instead…blank stare…we, Jeremiah, me, “Tanya” and her ciggies, are on our way!)

NEXT STOP, HARPERS FERRY!!!

Living in NYC or any big city, for that matter, you forget how beautiful the sight of rolling hills and open expanses of land can be. Hills and valleys. Mountains and streams. From sea to shining sea.

Around 4pm on Friday afternoon, Jeremiah, “Tanya” and I roll up at the KOA Kamp ground. Kamp…KOA…Kamp! Get it!?

Anyway, we pull into the Kamp ground to be stopped by the older woman at the gate. On her office window is “Betty and Ann”. We were lucky enough to encounter Betty, who was a very sweet woman who motioned us on to the main office to pick up our keys etc. And so we arrive at the main office. As I look out the front window of the car, two couples are exiting the building…two women and their shirtless, tanned and hairy husbands carrying 40s and smoking cigarettes. Yes, it’s gonna be that weekend. So I exit the car to sit in a huge rocking chair and have “Tanya” take a picture of me in front of the KOA sign. We then went inside to meet Jeremiah who was in the process of getting our Kabin assignment. “Tanya” and I, being the people we are, went in search of trinkets and what else, beer. We found it and some delicious malt drinks. As we go to pay, the very friendly desk person, David, tells us that we can order ice or whatever we need and they will bring it to our Kabin…he also tells us how delicious the Jack Daniel’s watermelon malt drinks are and smile real big at me…David was gay. Incidental but expository, nonetheless.

Have keys…now on to our Kabin. K214. Did I mention we were staying in a two story Kabin with an electric fire place, carport and air conditioning? Jed Clampett would’ve pissed his pants for this kind of luxury at the KOA. “Hills that is…swimming pools”, broadway stars.

And now we begin the unpacking process. Blankets, pillows, clothes, food, ice chests…OOH! The 15 bundles of fire wood arrive! Yes, I said 15. More unpacking. Outdoor chairs, table cloths etc… We were just about unpacked when “Mark and Jacob”, the newly titled “boyfriends”, arrive. More unpacking! More ice chests, much more beer, makings for s’mores, more chairs, pillows and bedding. ICE! We needed ice because the fridge is now full. So “Tanya” and I make our way up for visit David who immediately asked us if we liked the malt drinks…we did. So we buy five bags of ice and carry three with us. The other two will be delivered. We didn’t wanna look too “big city” by having them all delivered. We are capable people after all. We go back to our Kampsite and make the place look livable then it’s off to Friday night dinner…Long John Silver’s!!!

You can all pretend how health conscious you are and how you’d NEVER eat at a place like that, where the food is all fried in the same grease. Mmm, the deep fryer. I have to admit that Jeremiah and I were having chicken strips and fish, respectively and neither realized we were eating the other’s food until half way through. And don’t forget the crispies…and the cheese curd balls…and the mild indigestion that I’d gladly have again with a little malt vinegar!

And just when you thought the evening was winding down, The Charles Town Races ( doo dah, doo dah) was next up! This trip was shaping up nicely, if you asked me. We went to check out the second…ok third tier horses that were racing that evening. I picked horse #4 because it strutted like it was wearing high heels which I thought would make it a good runner. I was wrong. Last place Elmer, the glue horse, lost me five dollars! So I went inside to the casino. Yes, the home of old ladies and their cigarettes and oxygen tanks. Oxygen and fire….these broads have no fear and lots of pennies.
I try my hand against the slots, something I haven’t done since the night Chita Rivera told me to drink coffee after a drunken slot machining fiasco. Five more dollars gone. It was time to hit the KOA for the night.

When we got back to Kabin K214, the final three campers had arrived…”Chase”, “Tripp” and “Craig” with even more food, pillows, drink and another coffee maker! Because gay men and their lean friend and mascot for the weekend need choices. Not only did they bring more alcohol…they brought champagne and two blocks, not boxes (there is a difference) of wine. Wonders of the world! And “Tanya”, by this point, was in her weekend costume that she purchased at Walmart just for the occasion.

What happens when one man drinks five bottles of champagne? He throws up beside the Kabin and covers it with rocks. Ladies and gentleman, I give you “Craig”.

It’s only the first night. THE FIRST NIGHT!

The next day at the crack of dawn, or 8am as I call it, morning breaks, we wake, we pee, we wait for coffee and breakfast. Eggs and turkey bacon, courtesy of Jeremiah, who also made the fire…my mountain man. Back to the turkey bacon, you all know I’m a purest in many ways…I like sugar, not substitutes, whole milk not that soy crap and I like bacon as it was planned…from a pig! If I say any more, it’ll just get ugly.

Today’s excursion…BTI aka Butts Tubes, yes, you read correctly.

What camping adventure is complete without an afternoon of relaxing in tubes, floating down a lazy river with two ice chests filled with beer?! We had beer, food for lunch and blueberry fritter holes because why not and three additions to the days trip, the very friendly “Mitch” who I’d met in Miami in February and two of his friends, Ricardo and Leandro. Those are their real names and fuck ‘em…they can’t read. No, I mean it. Ricardo has a tattoo on his side which reads, “Remeber”… Yes, he has a misspelled word on his torso because neither he nor the tattoo artist recognized the mistake. I mean, really!

So after three hours on the river, after me losing three beers to the lady of the lake, after “Tanya” losing a flip flop and finding one, unfortunately the same foot, after losing THREE PAIRS of sunglasses, after spotting a way too young kid with a way too hot body, which we stopped to look at briefly until we realized he was a youth of maybe 17, we made our way out of e river and back to the bus that would take us back to our skewed reality. “Mitch” and his two muchacos fled the scene like someone had called the INS and we all headed back to our little home away from home for an evening by the fire. Someone should’ve told us that the local band, “Freak Show” would be sound checking at 5pm and playing NONSTOP from 6pm until 10pm. Four long hours of this…man who looked scarily like Eddy from AbFab meets Stevie Nicks. So as we listened to the screams of the band and the mildly drunken crowd, we sat by the fire and popped jiffy pop. For the record, in order to pop popcorn over an open fire, you must have some rhythm, the same rhythm one usually reserves for more personal moments…it was highly sensual. So we ate, drank and fell asleep.

Good night KOA, good night our tea party neighbors, good night obese 8yr old boy who could barely walk without hyperventilating…good night.

Sunday! It’s rainy and the fire won’t start…it took us almost three hours to go from smoke to fire…Smokey the bear would have had quite a Kiki watching this. I’ve literally blocked out any events that happened during most of this day. I only “remeber” hours sitting in the rain by the fire before we journeyed over the Harpers Ferry to tour the towns several historic buildings. It really was a lovely experience. We forget how the landscape of a town and it’s people can change over a century. Anyway, after dinner in town, we found ourselves back by the fire, drinking, drinking, drinking and laughing cuz that’s what friends do. Good times!

Good night KOA, good night our tea party neighbors, good night friends, good night obese 8yr old boy who could barely walk without hyperventilating…good night!

Monday morning at the crack of dawn…8am, it’s Labor Day!

Start packing up. As at the end of every trip with friends, it seems that the race was on to get packed, figure out what belonged to whom and get our asses back home before the vortex closed up for good. So, after packing and unpacking and replacing vehicles and figuring out who was riding with whom and what we were throwing away…don’t worry, the beer was saved! Cue the angels voices.

So we hug, kiss and laugh a few more times before everyone piles into three cars and set their sights on next year’s trip…anybody got a portable DirectTV satellite?