Last night, Greg and I had an incredible dinner at the White Barn Inn in Kennebunk. We had been wanting to try it for ages and finally had the chance. (Thanks Mom and Dad for minding Elly!)
While waiting for our table, we decided to have a drink at the bar. As luck would have it, the only two open seats were at the piano. So we (quite stereotypically) sat there. In a matter of no time, the pianist began to play “Over the Rainbow”. All we needed was a tv showing the Smucker’s Ice Skating Competition, Liza Minelli and a local field hockey team and we would have had the quorum needed to vote the Bush’s out of town.
While we were seated at the piano, hidden behind a flower arrangement the size of a Texas hairdo, we had yet to offend anyone’s wholesome sensibilities. You see, there are natural habitats where one expects to have gay sightings – hair salons, Neiman Marcus, Sephora, and piano bars. In those places, we either blend in like chameleons or are amusing to see like monkeys frolicking at a zoo. But, in a short time we would be neither of those. We would soon be hyenas – dreaded and feared, out to ruin everyone’s fun.
As we were escorted through the sea of white people replete in their Brooks Brothers and Talbots garb, the frost from the ice and snow outside paled in comparison to what we felt inside.
Two men dining together at 8:45 on a Saturday evening weren’t likely business partners poring over documents and yacking it up about the “big game”. We had clearly upset the delicate balance in this sleepy red town. Oh, the amuse bouche was just about the only thing that was amused in that dining room. A number of our fellow diners were visibly disturbed that two homosexuals had tainted their dinner. But you know what? This boy didn’t care. As a matter of fact, it energized me. By the third look of disdain we got cast from the woman that I’ll refer to as Bitch because I don’t know her Christian name, we opted for the nine course tasting menu over the four course option. Saddle up, Missy. We’re gonna be here for a while!
The beauty of it all is that by the second course, I no longer realized that there was anyone else in the room with us. It was just me and Greg. We had a fabulous night enjoying an amazing dinner and each other’s company.
So, to our fellow diners who cast us dirty looks, as you’re hanging up those stuffy suits of yours, remember this… Whether you may like it or not, closets are for clothes and shoes, not our lives.
