Southern Hospitality?
What a strange weekend I had. It started normal enough with me spending Friday night home alone taking it easy. I played on line, I watched some TV, I sketched a bit, and I went to bed at a reasonable hour.
On Saturday morning I cleaned the apartment a bit in anticipation of some company that was coming over in the evening. I also did some grooming and manscaping in preparation of the same events. I then went to the Boston Public Library to do some reading for my classes. I’m so happy to be in Boston where we have such an amazing museum-quality library. I need to take advantage of it more often.
Anyway, I went to the market and did some grocery shopping (even picked up some Girl Scout cookies…Thin Mints, of course).
Later, Mike was the first to arrive around 6:30PM. Sven and his partner, Shaun, showed up about an hour later. After some good conversation, some red wine, and some Girl Scout cookies, we headed out to the South End/Back Bay for dinner at Laurel.
…and this is where things started to get a bit weird.
The group was supposed to consist of ten people (all gay men). Sven coordinated the whole thing since Shaun lives in Atlanta and was just visiting for the weekend (I’d met Shaun before…about 2 years ago). In addition to me and Mike, Sven invited Marcus, a dapper German man who is a fellow at Harvard. Sven also invited Mark (see Manley One blog link on right) who is originally from Virginia. Mark had 3 Alabama men visiting him so he ended up bringing them along (Justin, Richard and Jamie). Finally, Mark also invited a New Foundland-born friend of his (Matt).
So, let’s refresh: there is 100% yankee Karl and Mike, a German, a Canadian and 6 southerners (2 from Georgia, 3 from Alabama, 1 from Virginia). Within minutes (coinciding with the arrival of alcohol, not suprisingly) the group got louder and louder. Well, the southerners got louder and louder. The talk across the long table was filled with dialogue and references that were lost on Marcus, Mike and me. Still, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that Mike and I were laughing hysterically at various points during the dinner.
Ultimately, Mike and I looked at each other and came to the same realization: the only person we connected with was the more reserved German fellow across the table. The southerners, in essence, were the foreigners. At least they felt foreign to us compared to the actual foreigner at the table.
And I wonder what that says about us (me and Mike, that is…or New Englanders in general)? Are we that uptight? Are we that reserved? Or do we just know boundaries (read on to see what I mean).
After dinner, the group split up. Mike, Sven, Shaun and I were going to go to the Ramrod, Mark, Jamie and Matt were going to the Alley, and Marcus was going home (he definitely was the odd-man-out and I felt bad for him. If Mike and I were feeling out of place, I can’t imagine how it must have been for him). Jamie and Richard (Alabamans) decided to join my gang and head to the Ramrod. We all hopped on the subway and headed back toward my place first so Mike and I could change and so we could retrive Sven’s car.
That was the scariest subway ride of my life. I’ve never met louder (more obnoxious?) people than gay drunk southerners. It all started when Mike stumbled over a suitcase in front of a woman. The next thing you know, all hell breaks loose and Mike and I were outnumbered by boisterous drawls and innuendo. They loudly reprimanded a couple sitting near them for eating potato chips and not offering them to the rest of the train.
Even worse, they noticed a woman sitting near them carrying a little black bag with what they presumed to be a DVD inside. As she got up to leave, they yelled across the train for her to enjoy her DVD – then added (for everybody to know) that she was carrying a porn DVD since it was covered in a black bag and only porn movies are kept hidden like that.
Let me just say that I was relieved that we were only going a few stops (and that we weren’t beat up in the meantime).
In the end, Richard and Justin decided against going to the bar with us – but not until they continued sharing stories with us (loudly) about how southerners treat their ex boyfriends. Justin prefers writing “Faggot” on his ex’s car and throwing bricks threw the windows of his apartment. Needless to say, I now realize it may not have been the best choice to let him know where I live
Alcohol + Gay Southerners = BAD MIX
At the bar, Sven and Shaun soon left and Mike and I were left with “our people”: uptight New Englanders.
On Sunday I headed to downtown crossing to exchange a shirt at Macy’s. Then I walked across the street to Filene’s to take advantage of their big sales (I came home with 3 shirts).
That night, the Gay Boston Bloggers got together for their (nearly) monthly meeting. We took advantage of Restaurant Week in Boston (where restaurants have a fixed menu where you can get appetizer, entree and dessert for $30.06…don’t ask me how they came up with that amount). Bryan (That’s Interesting! blog) picked the Hampshire House (upstairs from Cheers) which overlooks the Public Garden. I had a yummy baby spinach salad, salmon with veggies and rice and chocolate mousse.
And now it’s Monday.
12 Comments
Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.
gay southerners are extremely colorful folks, add alcohol and !”taste the rainbow”! as a former yankee living in the “south” ive always seen it as a cultural thing, but i was also a new york yankee and we always deemed bostonians to be a bit “stiff”. maybe it is y’all up there???
Hehe, I’m glad that you had fun and that you got a full-barrelled blast of Southern gay men. Yeah, my people are a bit, well, boisterous when we’ve had a few drinks. Maybe it’s because our food has some flavor unlike you New England boys who grow up on paste and mush. You just have to sit back and enjoy the ride… 😉
As a New Englander who married into a Southern family, I totally understand! It was pure culture shock to meet some of his extended family this past year (at a funeral, nonetheless!) From his racial slur slinging grandmother (“mammaw”) to his gay, married to a woman,and not quite out of the closet uncle, to his downright other CRAZY (honestly, he is certifiable!) uncle, I was blown away by the entire experience. And you are right, add alcohol and things get UGLY. Ugh. I feel your pain.
Sara, now you know why the literary tradition in the South is called Southern Gothic!
Speaking of which, Karl, I think you’ve invented the most wonderful title for the gay male version of all those Southern chick flicks and plays like Crimes of the Heart, Steel Magnolias and Fried Green Tomatoes: “Boisterous Drawls and Innuendo”
They can’t all be as dainty and refined as Scarlett O’Hara, now.
We’re not uptight, we have good manners.
I’ve said it all my life. Having grown up in southeast texas. …there really is no excuse or reason for alabama. still can’t figure it out. it is all just wrong somehow.
Well Karl your life has gotten very colorful…
I think its a bit of everything mentioned, I think Bostononians are a bit snotty ..
not everyone, but you do hear it alot from the “gays” that come from other parts of the country. Obviously you are used to Texan Southern ala Matt and not the crazy unexplained Alabaman Southerness……..
As for the poor guy who left Laurels to go home alone, did you at least invite him to the Ramrod?
I’ve been enjoying your blog. Being a gay Southerner living in Boston, I enjoyed your post. All drunk gay Southerners are not as bad as that though.
Hey, some Yankees have good manners too. Bless our little hearts. And yours as well.
Sounds like those Southerners knew how to have a good time and liven up the place
Sad story. I live in North Carolina myself and am gay. Geez, even drunk I cannot imagine acting like that. Especially the scene on the subway was stupid and rude. I think I would’ve sent them home and gone on with other activities without them. LOL