Too little sleep & even less Coffee

I'm flying back to Atlanta, and I feel like the weekend went by so quickly. I don't know if it's because I didn't do everything I wanted to do, like hang out with some old friends, or because so much happened in such a short time. Each hour seemed action-packed; in fact, I even sacrificed precious sleep time so as not to miss a moment.

My parents picked me up at the airport at 10 pm, and we made the ten-minute drive to the house I grew up in. Margot, my relatively new sister-in-law greeted me, and soon Billy & Seamus also joined us. We sat around the kitchen table that night and talked about Margot's pregnancy, my latest goings-on, crazy trouble my brothers' & I got into as kids, and what it's like to be as old as my parents, until three in the morning.

We all slept pretty late the next day, and once I was awake and feeling alive, I felt a bit trapped without a car. So, my mom & I went back to the airport and rented a Pontiac Grand Prix. I had one on a previous trip and decided that it had the pick-up I'd need if I decided to venture into the city and compete with the agressive and self-righteous driver's of Manhattan. With my new, rented freedom, I went to Greenwich Avenue, the Rodeo Drive of the Northeast, and did a little shopping.

On previous trips, I've given my brothers the opportunity to plan the evening outings, but because they are painfully indecisive and plans could take hours before fruition, I made plans to meet up with my friend, Michelle, at a bar in White Plains before heading solo into Manhattan for a circuit-like party at Webster Hall.

Billy & I met up with Michelle and her siblings at the Brazen Fox in White Plains where one of the sisters was celebrating her twenty-first. Michelle & I caught up on things we've been doing recently, and we told some stories about fun times in high school. Seamus ended up meeting us there almost an hour later. It was getting late, and Alegria was calling my name.

Every other month or so, thousands of shirtless, swirling & twirling gay men get together for a huge, all-night party called Alegria, which is Spanish for "joyfull." I've always wanted to go, but I had never been in New York when one was occurring, so I decided that tonight was going to be the night.

I stepped into Webster Hall, a huge and famous nightclub that is featured in the beginning clips of "To, Wong Fu," paid the seventy-dollar cover charge, and joined the party. I've been to many cities in the US, Canada, Mexico, & Europe, and aside from Barcelona, New York has always had the best-looking gay community. But on this night, all the Hotties must have been out of town in Fire Island or Provincetown, because the sea of shirtless men left much to be desired. I wasn't looking for Mr. Right or even for Mr. Right Now! but one does enjoy a grope by a Cutie every so often. No matter. I toured the huge, old building before I settled at a spot at the bar next to the dance floor to enjoy an energizing Red Bull on ice. World-class DJ Tony Moran was at the turntables, and I really started to feel the music, so I took my shirt off, finished my drink, and joined the throngs of men on the dance floor. For a minute, it amazed me how enjoyable the music was even though I was totally sober! It was a serene feeling.

Back at the bar, a drag queen was telling me how beautiful my eyes were. She was sweet and her friend was sorta cute, so we all danced together, and then met more guys on the dance floor. Somehow, over the course of several hours, Flavio, the boy in drag, and I realized we both worked in the Burlington Mall in Massachusetts at the same time several years ago. He used to "cruise" me by pretending to browse in my store. I was very flattered, and he was so happy to be partying with me. I was having a wonderful time, but when I looked at my watch at eight in the morning, I told my new friends I had to leave. I had a baby shower to be at in the afternoon.

I stepped out into the morning sun and walked to my car parked only a couple of blocks away. I felt as though I should have been "cracked out" and embarrassed to be in public, but I was sober. And New York is really stunning in the morning.

I woke up to objects being thrown at my old bedroom's window at about 2:30 in the afternoon. Seamus was trying to wake me up for the baby shower in the back yard that was already in full swing. I showered and did everything I could to not look sleep-deprived and joined the party. Mother made me some cheap coffee which I complained to her about, partially in jest. I love to give my parents a hard time, so as everyone was drinking alcohol, I mixed some juices together and told them I made a "drink" and took a sip. I'm such a bad son. My father immediately realized I was joking, but my mother's horrified look took a few seconds to turn into a relieved smile. :D

I had the opportunity to meet many of Margot's international group of friends at the party. Many of them know each other from their English (as a second language) studies. She & Billy opened their baby gifts to the applause of the guests while I got Mother drunk with cheap red wine (That's what she wanted to drink!) She's funnier when she's drunk, and since she drinks so sporadically, it doesn't take much. "You now need to drink for both of us!" I explained to her, as she bobbed her head in agreement.

The party was a success, and it was time to start thinking about the night's activities. Again, my brothers procrastinated, so at a quarter after eleven, I told them I was no longer waiting for their decision. I hopped into the Grand Prix, and headed back into the city.

HX Magazine recommends things to do in their column, "Homo Musts," which is where I read that the "Cock" in lower Manhattan was the place to be. I had never been, but I was trying to be fearless. I walked into the dark, sleazy bar and ordered a Red Bull. I looked around, and I was scared. It was a small, scary, ugly, hook-up bar with many older, unattractive men. The dancers who got up on the bar and a platform were also unattractive, but the one closest to me whipped it out for the patrons to examine. A younger, studious-looking blonde guy started talking to me. We chatted for a bit, and he told me he was fairly new to New York from Regina, Saskatchewan. He was very sweet as he hit on me, but I wasn't interested.

I decided it was time to check out Spash Bar, my old favorite. I walked in and was pleasantly suprised to see how busy it was. I had decided that Spash had gone downhill since, recently, it didn't have the same pull it did in the good old days. The bartenders were in hot, skimpy sailor garb, and the whole place had a naval theme. The music was great, but again, the crowd wasn't all that pretty. However, I did meet a beautiful Danish/Spanish guy who was easily the best looking guy in the club. We spoke for a while, and even flirted quite a bit. I ended up staying much later than I expected to because of this new development as we were very drawn to each other, but unfortunately, he was returning to Copenhagen in a couple of days. Just my luck!

I spent the next day at home with my parents, brothers, and new sister, Margot. We talked a little bit about the upcoming summer events, like the birth of the new family member in July, and the wedding of a childhood friend over the Labor Day weekend. So, as I readied my things before my flight, we said our "goodbyes" knowing it wouldn't be long before we were all together again.

Enjoying the Moment

I'm on a small Boeing 717 en route to New York, listening to Sunset Bouelvard on XM Broadway. The plane taxied on the tarmac for just over an hour, and now I have no way of letting my parents know that I'll be landing late. It's okay though, because Westchester County Airport is conveniently down the street from the house I grew up in. I'll text Seamus & Billy (my brothers) when we land. The delay also allowed me to nap a bit after a hectic dash to Atlanta's airport, so I'm not complaining.

I have a habit of biting off slightly more than I can chew, and today was no exception. I figured that since my flight didn't depart until 6:40 p.m., I would have plenty of time to work at Joe's on Juniper during lunchtime, get home and pack, and then take MARTA to the airport. Now, before you call me insane, I succeeded! But, just barely. Yes, there is a fine line between insanity & Kevin Malin, but normally, I work no more than a few hours during lunch, and then I'm free to leave the restaurant around 2:30. Today, we were a bit busy, so around 3, I became nervous, and so I told our cranky & silly manager, Steve, that I needed to catch a flight. Instead of biting my head off, he asked me to call from the airport to let him know I arrived in time. He has a heart, after all! In the meantime, the warm and sunny day people were enjoying out on our patio suddenly turned into monsoon season, which quickly soaked me to the bone as I ran to my Rodeo parked on 11th. I got home at 4 p.m., fed Pumba & Simba, told them I was leaving to visit Grandma & Grandpa, but that I would be back on Monday night, and then turned on Hard Candy. In no more than fifteen minutes, I was packed and walking out the door, back into the torrential downpour. The Lindbergh MARTA station is a couple of blocks from my home, so I actually made it to the airport with enough time to have a quick sandwich before boarding my flight.

In the passed decade, I've become quite the deft traveler. Since, September 11th, I've flown three to four times per year and I've adapted comfortably with changing security measures. Today, I actually packed only one back which I checked; I was probably the only passenger who boarded without carrying anything but a boarding pass.

I'm currently at a point in my recovery where I make an effort to focus on the moment instead of anxiously awaiting the future, or morbidly reflecting on the past. I thought of this while I was at the airport, and it made me grateful to be taking a trip. Every aspect of my little weekend adventure has occurred without drama, and if you knew me only a couple of years ago, this would be hard to believe. Also, I enjoyed the piece of mind knowing I forgot nothing, and I enjoyed resting once on the MARTA. And nothing thrills me more than flying over a dozen states in a jet to another region of the country. There is something very exciting about flying that never gets old for me no matter how much I travel.

So, I'll be on the ground in about an hour at Westchester's little luxury-boutique airport that happens to be far more convenient than LaGuardia. When I was a kid, I used to ride my bike to the airport, which was no bigger back then than a double-wide trailer. Now, it's practically a hub for Air Tran and Delta.

I'm happy to have a break from Joe's and Atlanta, in general. This weekend is already bringing much needed tranquility, a time that allows me to think about this particular point in my life, and how I can improve upon things. This is also an opportunity to do some work for my latest real estate lead; he's a police officer who needs to sell his home in Conyers before it's foreclosed upon. This is a situation millions of Americans are currently facing due to the housing crisis. If we can agree on a good price, I'll be able to help him avoid total credit destruction.

It's nightfall, and as I look out to the left of the aircraft, I see what I think is New Jersey. It's quite pretty from up here. Not dirty and smelly like New Yorkers so fondly describe it. So, for now, I'll savor this view and this moment and report back later in the weekend.