Wednesday, Mar. 26, 2003 - 3:08 p.m.
The atmosphere of scholarship at this university is staggering, really. While taking a leisurely stroll back to the office from my usual grad school paperwork run, I came across two guys laying down on the sidewalk in front of my building. One of them had a yellow legal pad on which he was quickly scratching out some notes, while the other was yelling out the following questions to anybody within a ten foot radius of him:
"Do you think there is a drug problem at UK? Has anyone ever pressured you for sex?"
Anytime anybody gave even the slightest bit of attention to them, one of the guys wrote something down on his pad. I can only assume this is one of those jackass Sociology 101 projects they make you do. Which reminds me of a story from years ago...
Will was in a Soc. class in the spring semester of my junior year where he was assigned to take on the persona of somebody considered a minority. At least I'm fairly sure this was the assignment, it was something along those lines.
Anywho, I was recruited to basically go on a suicide mission with him. Check this out: we were to go into a store as a gay couple and buy condoms while Shelley followed us a good distance behind and noted other customers' reactions to us. Now, that wouldn't be so bad if we were doing this experiment in Lexington. I ended up going with them to the Wal-Mart in Paris (which is by all accounts the smallest Wal-Mart ever built) and a Rite-Aid in Georgetown to be "gay for a day."
Now, keep in mind, I was so deeply in the closet at this point in my life that this whole project seemed comical to me. Okay, I suppose in retrospect it still seems comical. Not the project itself, mind you, but just the situation. Again, let me explain...
Will and I walked into the Paris Wal-Mart holding hands and made a beeline for the condom section. We spent a good bit of time deliberating what kind we should get... I think it was determined he would be the "top," as I recall. So, of course, I had to make a lewd reference to the Trojan Magnums before we grabbed another pack to go to the checkout. But I wasn't quite through with the act.
I insisted that we go look at the curtains. Because all gay people shop for curtains when they go to Wal-Mart, right? Sure. Now, realize that Paris, Kentucky isn't exactly the most cosmopolitan, open-minded place. Surveying the store, I saw many John Deere caps and NASCAR paraphernalia being worn by fellow customers. Amazingly enough, the only notable reaction was from two chatty Wal-Mart associates who were seen whispering and gesturing in our direction after we left the condom section.
Oh, and at the cash register I accused him of being "just like my mother" when he refused to let me pay. The cashier was vaguely amused.
As a result of lack of sleep, a temperature of roughly 85 degrees in my non-air conditioned office, and general apathy, I can't for the life of me compose a coherent thought today. So, I suppose the moral of this entry was that I once got to be gay for a day and it was so much fun I decided to make it a full-time deal. Or something.
