Marc, Avgusto 26, 2008 - Unexpected Weekend, Part One

I am so in bed and so sprawled out next to one of the most beautiful men in the world right this moment. Jonah arrived this morning on the Greyhound and of course I was there bright eyed and all prepared to pick him up. We embraced outside the terminal for a good moment or two before a random gentleman he had been speaking with gave me a good once over, afterward declaring that he knows a person just like me in a statement which preceded the dropping of a name which he expected me to recognize. This happens to me more often than one might think and in any given moment I can make one of two assumptions: he recognizes me for a whore, or he recognizes me for transsexual. Now in any given casual situation I almost never look like a whore so unless I am emanating the muskie aroma of manspray, therefore tipping off every amateur detective within a five block radius, and so I assume that he is attempting to indicate that I am a transsexual, that he knows I am a transsexual, that he knows another transsexual, and that I must know this transsexual well because all transsexuals must know one another through the secret networks which must exist within small minority populations.

The depressing thing is that I did know who he was talking about even if I did not know her in the most personal of ways. In some cases the communities are in fact small enough to support having such an expectation pan out. For instance if you were to ask me if I know a particular transsexual named Samantha then I would tell you that I do not know any such person. But if you were to ask if I know transsexual Samantha who has been wearing the same hunter green bandana in her back right pocket for three years then I would declare that I do in fact know Sam and that she does in fact owe me two two hundred dollars. In any case I was already feeling awkward around the talkative man with the transsexual friend so I feigned both ignorance and chilling indifference as my response. He never catches on and before he can continue my visiting guest and I leave him to his diminishing series of repetitive stammers, which I think were meant to catch and cement my interest in whatever it was that he was trying to tell me.

He failed and we hit the interstate route toward home.

While driving home I informed Jonah that we were going to be driving dearest Annica to some jail house in some neighboring town that was about three hours west of where we were. It was going to be a long and exhausting afternoon. First we had to pick up Annica which entailed spending a good half hour in her apartment while her husband and Jonah smoked up some pot with her, claiming it as preparation for the three day imprisonment to come. I dislike being around her husband - he is an arrogant and immature douche with manipulative and abusive tendencies, again a typical stripper husband - but Jonah did not know this so I forgave him in quiet protest. Then we hit the road at which time I learned we would be driving on one of the highest paved roads in the world.

This would not do.

I have a terrible and irrational fear of high places. It is not so much a fear of heights as much as it is a fear of falling but it is irrational all the same. Panic attacks often ensue and I have been known to pass out before. I feel the same way about boats and bridges both. In any case when I learned this I began to panic though I did make a valiant effort by driving a quarter of the way into the mountains. But a good man came to the rescue when Jonah offered to take over the driving and although I was hesitant to let him (pride) his beautiful blue eyes along with the terrible drop to our left hand side convinced me that letting him drive was the prudent course to take. So he took over the driving and I passed out in the passenger seat not long afterward, thanks to a particularly steep drop that snuck up on us from the blindside.

When I woke up later we were parking close to the top of the paved road so we could get a good look at the view and our surroundings. This had me more than a little bit anxious. I mean here we were at the top of this huge mountain with an adventurous but terrified young woman who had already lost consciousness once and they were getting out of the car to take a look at the view! From a cliffside! I had no idea that I was associating with sadists of their calibre, though somehow the combined efforts of Jonah and Annica got me out of the vehicle. Once out in the open the surroundings did not look quite as terrifying though I still clung to him like a rabbit as Jonah led me up the trail toward the cliffside spectacle. Once there I noticed that there were several Mennonites enjoying the view as well and that one of them was more than a little bit attractive as Mennonite farm men are concerned. By which I mean he was stout and hirsute and possessing the warmest face you have ever seen, all framing a stunning set of violet eyes. The farm hand type man looked at me with a broad and earthsome smile before saying hello. I responded in kind and he then went on tell me that it was very nice to see such a modest young woman outside of the commune or farm or wherever it was that he and his relatives lived, someplace rural and simple and hardworking and honest.

It took all the willpower in the world not to break into hysterics.

I decided it was better not to burst his vision of me and so I thanked him for the compliment. He did have a point after all. I was wearing a very modest black dress that is something akin to what a nun or housemaid might wear, over my jeans, and on top of that I was wearing a zipped up hooded sweater. One very dear friend of mine once referred to my sense of fashion as tragic, though I do not think it can be all that tragic if it is catching the attention of Mennonite hotties. My mind wandered into some very torrid places as I thought about the sort of secret fantasies that must exist in the minds of those men though it snapped back into place once I looked back to the cliffside. It was very steep and it was very much time to get back into the vehicle and continue toward our depressing destination. As we made our way back to the car Jonah noted that the Mennonite was flirting with me and I nodded my agreement with a knowing but nervous smile before passing out once more in the passenger seat. While unconscious I found myself wondering what Jonah would look like in a proper farming hat.