I was so excited! The only time I had ever been to Pensacola during Memorial Weekend was just after a terrible hurricane hit the region a few years ago. I was with Jeremy, and we were pretty much alone on the beach that weekend. So, this would be my first time experiencing the throngs of gay men on the beach in their tiny speedos, showing each other their d!@ks for shots. As if that weren't enough, my friends and I were staying at the Portofino Island Resort, a.k.a. Gay Ground Zero. I think I was receiving underwear party invites on Facebook before the weekend even began, and of course, my friends expected me to act as Cruise Director. Good thing I brought my laptop. My flimsy LG Xenon wouldn't have handled the data usage this weekend would require.
We got to the hotel, and I must say, it was spectacular. Our 2 bed/2.5 bath condo on the twelfth floor of one of five towers was beautifully furnished, and surprisingly large enough for six. We dropped our things and went to Crabs for dinner, and just watched as the gaggles of gayness came filing in after a long drive from all parts of the South. It really was a total gay-takeover of a small beach community. The restaurants were flying our flag, and the hotels and guest houses were 90% pink.
And the next day at the beach . . . OMG!! I've never seen so much scantily-clad eye candy. Yikes! I thought I might "behave" myself this weekend because of my new job, which is going really well, by the way. I didn't want to go back to work more exhausted than when I left. I was not only going to have a fabulous weekend, but I was also going to get some much needed rest! So, I slept in most days. I didn't feel bad about it. I'd get up around 11:30 am and hit the gym, and then drive to the beach (when the early folks are just beginning to leave), and snag a rock-star parking spot. The boys DID look yummy in their gay Aussie-bums. It was fun walking along the beach saying Hi to the ATL boys, and getting checked-out by the boys from Dallas or New Orleans. Never was I more grateful for my last two-years of regular fitness.
So, both nights, Thursday & Friday, we planned on starting at underwear parties, and then going to other parties at the Portofino. And BOTH NIGHTS, the underwear parties were broken up by security and police. Noise complaints were coming from breeders in the hotel. We went to parties both night, but because we missed out on the underwear fun, we decided to go to Saturday night's underwear party when it began. So, of course, we were the first dweebs there! But no matter; the penthouse filled quickly with a party of half-naked twinkies. I mostly "hung-out" with a few of my Atlanta boys, but I also met several new faces.
Security swiftly broke up that party as well, and many of us were getting a little annoyed that a resort facing the probability of a well-oiled beach in its near future would treat the gays with hostility. As the weekend progressed, the boys continued to party hard, and the police presence grew. Cop cars positioned themselves throughout the resort's drive-ways, as if the terror level had been raised to fuchsia, and we were on the brink of an all-out, thousand-man orgy.
Speaking of which, with all of that latent sexual energy lighting up the night sky in the form of a distant storm, I, Kevin Logan Malin, did NOT get laid all weekend! And it wasn't for not trying. I'm sure there will soon be photos on Facebook of me in this tiny, revealing yellow number I borrowed from a friend. Why do I gravitate to YELLOW?
On Sunday night, I escaped the beach for downtown Pensacola to visit Emerald City, the local gay club. I got there just after midnight, so the place was hoppin' when I walked in. They played some good music, had a drag show, and a dance contest. It ended up being a great way to finish up the weekend.
The next day, after only four hours of sleep, we piled back into the Rodeo and headed for home. It was an awesome experience, to say the least, and I'm already looking forward to next year!!
