Monday, October 10, 2005
"They're going to kill us all..."
If this were NYCRouge's blog [nycrouge.blogspot.com], that would be today's title. The quote comes from a conversation with Red [lugnochro.blogspot.com] on the subway this morning, returning from our first volunteer experience together (we'll get to my goal progress shortly). The murderers: breeders of foul fowl in Asia, cultivating Avian Flu.
But that's not the story I want to share today. I want to return to Faggot Crack House. I'm delighted to note that my previous post [badapologies.blogspot.com/2005/07/faggot-crack-house.html] is the only hit when you google this dear phrase.
Last night I was headed up the street to a new coffee house, when an attractive gentleman in his late 30s, driving a well-kept car (I don't pay attention to make/model, sorry), pulled up and said, "Excuse me. I don't know if I can ask you this... I'm looking for a bath house around here." "Down at 14th and N, on your right. The Crew Club." I smiled, happy to point this kind sir to his den of depravity. As he pulled away, I suddenly realized he might actually be looking for FCH, which is not marked and thus would explain why he was lost. It was also right around the corner. I suppose I should have asked, "Would you like the reputable establishment, or the underground sex den?," but it just didn't occur to me.
In the end, I'm happy I sent him to the properly licensed and regulated option. I remain convinced they must use some sort of disinfectant there; while I'm sure FCH has pathogens breeding in a shag carpet and dirty stained mattress.
But that's not the story I want to share today. I want to return to Faggot Crack House. I'm delighted to note that my previous post [badapologies.blogspot.com/2005/07/faggot-crack-house.html] is the only hit when you google this dear phrase.
Last night I was headed up the street to a new coffee house, when an attractive gentleman in his late 30s, driving a well-kept car (I don't pay attention to make/model, sorry), pulled up and said, "Excuse me. I don't know if I can ask you this... I'm looking for a bath house around here." "Down at 14th and N, on your right. The Crew Club." I smiled, happy to point this kind sir to his den of depravity. As he pulled away, I suddenly realized he might actually be looking for FCH, which is not marked and thus would explain why he was lost. It was also right around the corner. I suppose I should have asked, "Would you like the reputable establishment, or the underground sex den?," but it just didn't occur to me.
In the end, I'm happy I sent him to the properly licensed and regulated option. I remain convinced they must use some sort of disinfectant there; while I'm sure FCH has pathogens breeding in a shag carpet and dirty stained mattress.
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Kay, this is my last comment, I swear! I'm so pleased to see the use of the phrase "den of depravity." Thanks for a very entertaining blog catch-up session.
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