The sidewalks of Portland had seen in many different moods over the years. Here was a new one, echoing past ones in its way, but brand new in other ways. Suddenly everything seemed fun. The funky mix of urban/industrial and entertainment/hip, intertwined on the same block, the essence of East Burnside, especially down by the river---why wouldn't one travel half-way across the country to come live here?
I had taken the day off---most of the week in fact. My blank-slate no-work-thought mind felt lighter than air. Whatever I found on my walk would surely please me, I knew.
I spent an hour inside the outdoor store on Broadway---three floors of various equipment. On the main floor a row of camping chairs were set up by the tents. I found the most luxurious one, that looked like a lounge chair, and plopped myself down into it, putting my feet up on the rest. For the next five minutes I sat in the chair doing nothing, imagining myself in it beside a campfire along a cascading river. I eavesdropped on conversations from the staff about various tents and their advantages. I wondered if they might ask me "Sir, can I help you," but they left me alone. Then I went to the next chair and did the same thing, going from to another until I had tried all the chairs.
I was about to leave the store without buying anything, but saw the sunglasses rack by the door. I had left my last pair in a bar a couple nights before, the cheap pair I had bought in Santa Barbara, so I picked out a pair like them, of better quality, and without looking at the price, put it down on the counter. The young bearded man behind the counter struck up a conversation with me.
There was a box of Trivial Pursuit cards by the cash register. I pulled one out and read the question outloud: "What country has the highest population of sheep?"
"I'm gonna say...Australia," I said. I turned the card over. "I was right."
They guy and his co-worker laughed. "Some of the answers are outdated though."
"Yeah, some have a Cold War Era feeling," the other said. "Some of the countries don't exist anymore."
"Probably ones I've been to," I said.
Somehow that led to a couple minutes of them asking me about my "Adventures Behind the Iron Curtain Back in the Day." They were surprisingly curious, so I went with it. As I was talking some other customers came up behind me and one of the two young men starting talking to them.
The other one kept asking me questions about Eastern Europe. I told him that I had made multiple trips, years ago, and that I had had great man. "It was great to be a young man there," I told him. "The women in the former Soviet Union were very friendly."
As I said that, I saw his eyes sort of get slightly tense. It was at that point I figured we were done, I thanked him and turned to leave. Right behind me I saw the other customers---a pair of identical-twin-looking Lesbians with short grey hair wearing biking outfits.
I laughed to myself as I left the store. On the way out I noticed the community newspaper. The cover was an article about "Appreciating Straights." The idea was that straights can be useful because they can be the ones to "make gay marriage happen."
"They can have it," I tho,ught myself.
Of course I've had plenty of these kinds of thoughts since coming out as straight. Being a straight man in America these days is akin to declaring yourself a war criminal. It's OK to have heterosexual tendencies, but a man is supposed to keep these as closeted as possible, because it is offensive to most of society to hear about such behavior now.
In ten seconds I was back to singing my jaunty song. Somehow my head tone was really good that day. I'm not a natural born vocal performer, but occasionally I can hit almost any note perfectly.
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