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homophobic Adonai
Sunday, August 6 2006
Late this morning Gretchen and I drove to Chefs on Fire in High Falls to have brunch with a gay couple, half of which she met in the Adirondacks at the Blue Mountain Center. She jokingly refers to that guy as 70:30, a reference to the proportion of his gayness to his heterosexuality. As for the brunch, it was okay for what it was, though it was being served in a manner bordering on the incompetent. Our waiter was nearly as clueless as the waiter student who'd waited on us at the Culinary Institute of America a few days. And it kept turning out that things we'd ordered weren't actually available because, well, the bar was closed (no bloody marys) and also (a bummer for me) there were no bagels. (The bagel dish was the only item on the brunch menu that didn't have the word "egg" in it.)
At some point in our heavily gay-themed brunch conversation I learned a new word, "Swish Alps." This is a reference to the Catskills that emphasizes how very gay they are.
After the brunch we went to a nearby outdoor bazaar, one that happens every sunny summer day in High Falls. The main reason we went, it seemed, was to meet up with our friends J & B and their band of merry gay gentleman. If the Rapture had suddenly happened and all the non-gay people suddenly vanished from the scene, whisked away by a homophobic Adonai, the population loss in High Falls this noontime would have been neglible. There was virtually nothing of interest at the bazaar except for a series of glass bottles that a woman had somehow melted flat in a kiln.
This evening our friends the Tillsons came over for a dinner prepared by Gretchen. The weather was warm enough to make Mike's Hard Lemonade the beverage of choice, and the main course was a delicious mushroom tart that I firmly want to believe was egg-free.
Mr. Tillson regaled us with tales of his job as a student teacher working in the Kingston-area summer school program, the thing he's been doing since dropping out of Mass. Art. He told of one girl who was "skeezed out" by the questions he'd asked her regarding a composition she'd written. Evidently one of these questions was about where she lived, and she made the paranoid assumption that he was gathering stalkerly information. She'd watched a few too many Law & Order: Special Victims Units, a show where pædophiles are often normal in appearance aside from their thick anachronistic mustaches.
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