The weekend

I had a nice weekend.

I met Gary V. when John T. invited me to join him and a couple of his friends for an Orioles game, back in May. Since then, we had talked about meeting up but never managed it, until this weekend.

I met Gary at Grand Central late Friday night after I saw Batman Begins with Dennis. He had come out of his Gay Father's discussion group earlier in the evening and was still hanging out with friends. After stopping by my apartment so I could quickly pack a bag for the weekend, we headed out to his home to hit the sack.

Early Saturday morning, we left to drive up to Hershey Park. I called Russell along the way to let him know I'd be out of touch for the weekend, and he was a little disappointed that he wasn't going with me. He complained that I never showed much interest in amusement parks when I was with him, which is true. Amusement parks don't amuse me, really. Amusement parks are hot and crowded, and I have to wear sunscreen, something that I loathe.

Anyway, I was going to Hershey Park with the express purpose of spending time with Gary, not because I'm really that interested in amusement parks.

Another reason I don't usually jump at the chance to go to an amusement park is because roller coasters don't really agree with me. They usually make me feel sick, so I avoid them. Except dark coasters. I've never felt sick after riding a dark coaster, like Space Mountain at Disney World or Flight of Fear at King's Dominion. Interestingly, Russell felt sick after riding Space Mountain, but loves roller coasters otherwise, so he and I have never enjoyed a roller coaster together.

So, here I am, riding roller coasters at Hershey Park with Gary. We rode the Comet first, a wooden roller coaster, which was okay. Then we rode Great Bear, which was a steel coaster that suspended you from the track. That was even better. Then we rode the Coal Cracker, which was a wimpy little water flume, but it was a nice break.

Then we rode the Falcon, which wasn't a coaster at all. The Falcon has four or five arms. Each arm supports a cluster of cars that spin around a central axis. The main arms also spin around a central tower and they also ascend up the tower and back down during the ride. Finally, the angle of each car is varied during the ride. It dizzying. Literally. I was feeling a little ill after that one.

Then we rode the Sidewinder, which isn't a looped coaster at all. You get pulled up to the top of a ramp, then released to go through a series of loops and up another incline, then you fall backwards through the same loops to return to the start. I hated this one. It was very rough and hurt my neck. Besides, this one made me puke.

Thankfully, I had only been drinking Gatorade the entire morning and there were bushes thoughtfully placed along the exit path, but it was still unpleasant. The "ewww" from a couple of the people waiting to get on the ride really completed the moment.

So, no more coasters for the day. We rode the monorail around the park, the skylift, had lunch and then took the tour at Chocolate World ("Chocolate Fun For Everyone!") and then went home to make tacos and watch Solaris.

I slept late Sunday morning, then we drove to DC. At least, near DC. I think we were actually at a public park in Maryland someplace. Gary plays softball with a gay league each Sunday and I hung out in the bleachers, cheering on his team and slathering myself with more of the loathsome sunblock. His team won both of their games handily.

In between games, he and I wandered around the park to check out the other teams. The league actually has four leagues: A, B, C and D. A league is made up of the very best players. Gary's team is in D league. :-)

No offense to Gary, but my favorite team was Cobalt, a C team. They were good players, but the best thing was that most of them were wearing some kind of skirt or dress. The first baseman was wearing a sunhat and a long skirt that Bob R. would probably refer to as a schmata, hiking his skirt up on his legs so it wouldn't impede his dashing around after the ball. Another player was wearing a miniskirt that had a tartan pattern, like a catholic schoolgirl. These guys were obviously serious about the game, but playful where they could be. They apparently had team names, calling each other names like "Wilma" or "Barbie." :-)

After the last game, Gary drove me home and I spent a quiet evening alone.

Some drop names; I pick them up.

I have a skill that sometimes seems akin to a superpower: I'm good with names.

I was a little disconcerted at the softball game this weekend when Gary neglected to introduce me to anyone. Anyone at all. After a little while, I realized that, despite playing with these people every weekend, he has a hard time with their names.

Once I made that realization, I summoned my extrovert powers and made my own introductions, managing to introduce myself to most of his teammates.

I mentioned this to Gary on the ride home, and he admitted that yes, he does have trouble with names. He was impressed when I was able to reel off the names of the folks that I had met: Mike the scorekeeper, Dave the coach, Dave's partner Reuben, John from Virginia, John, Jay, Kim (the only woman on the team), Carlos, Scott (I wasn't really introduced to him, but I picked up his name), and Vince.

Greg noticed the same thing at the Men's Gathering, and he was impressed as well. We'd walk through the camp, and I'd point out people that I had met and their names, one after the other. Greg exclaimed that he was going to have to keep me close by, so I could feed names to him. :-)

I still remember the name of a woman I met on the bus last year — Brenda — although we only spoke for a few minutes. I don't remember the conversation, but I remember her name — the name of a woman I will never see again.

I wasn't always good with names. When I moved to Baltimore, I guess I was about as good as anyone else at remembering the names of people I met. Then I started hanging out with the square dancers at the club and class nights, and I was meeting a dozen or more people or night. In self-defense, I started training myself to retain the names of these people. Now it's second nature.

Names have power

Another note about names — folks love it when you call them by name. When I eat out, I often make a point to get the name of the person serving my table. When I need to get their attention, they will react to their name at a much lower volume than a general "excuse me". When I get the same server on a return visit, they seem surprised when I greet them personally.

When I run into someone on the street, using their name seems to make them more relaxed and open. It seems to make them friendlier, in a way.

If I run into someone on the street and I don't remember their name, I always ask to refresh my memory. I hate meeting someone, pretending I know exactly who they are, making idle chit-chat, then walking away not even knowing their name. And nobody is ever upset when I frankly admit that I've forgotten their name. In fact, they're relieved, because it gives them permission to ask for my name again. :-)

Names also give me a little confidence boost. Knowing someone's name puts me at ease as well. It gives me a little control over the encounter.

I love butterscotch

One of my favorite memories of my Fourth of July weekend with Jeff is this:

It was the evening of the Fourth. Jeff and I had returned to his home after a full day. It was a nice evening, pleasant and cool, so we sat on his porch for a while, leaning up against the columns at the top of the stairs leading up from the yard.

Jeff shared a song with me yesterday, "Chelsea Morning," by Joni Mitchell. One of the lines is "and the sun poured in like butterscotch and stuck to all my senses." That's exactly how that early evening light seemed.

His street is lined with trees and many of his neighbors have flowers or trees in their yards. Neighbors walked by, walking their dogs or pushing children in stollers, making their way up the hill to watch the fireworks.

Jeff had his guitar and made soft music while I sat across from him reading a novel. I lifted my head and realized what a wonderful moment this was: a sexy man playing guitar into a cool and quiet evening, a breeze pushing through the trees and the sun falling down into night. Like a slice of small-town America.

And recognizing the moment — being aware of it — just made it even more delicious.

Another memory: brunch with Jerry in Jeff's backyard Monday morning. Jeff had prepared a soufflé and served it with fresh fruit and muffins.