ja_koniga

SML and I decided on Sunday to take a ferry to Provincetown, an area of Massachusetts that the gays have been raving to us about. SML and I were indecisive this weekend, asking questions with questions like, "I don't know, what do YOU want to do."  By the time we decided on Provincetown the next ferry wasn't until 2:00 p.m.  

I took the above picture as soon as got off the boardwalk.  I really cannot describe how lovely I thought the whole place was, or how beautiful the ocean is on this part of the Cape. SML kept gushing how much he loved the fresh salt air while I was just excited to not be near one of the thousand or so moving trucks that have migrated to Allston with the new school year.

As we were walking into town I kept telling SML how I didn't understand why all the gays are in love with Provincetown. When did it become popular to hang around small towns, no matter how beautiful and scenic, when Boston is only a ninety minute ferry ride?  A friend of SML's called Provincetwon the "Gay Mecca" and although we did see a pirate ship of sorts with a pride flag, I just wasn't ready to get on my knees and face the east.

But then we walked into town. And all of that changed. 

Now. I don't know if they have those flags flying all year long, or if they just strung them up to greet SML and I, but holy cow. The entire city was like a pride festival, except without a parade.  Unless you count that man dressed up as Dorothy riding a bicycle and telling everyone to come to the Crown.

I flew into Phoenix yesterday for a conference, and I'll be here until Thursday.  I can't think if this has been the longest I've been away from SML, but for some reason seems like less time than the morning of the Fourth of July, when I thought I was going to lose it if SML wasn't home before eleven o'clock in the morning. 

My low stress level on this trip is probably due to being completely out of Utah.  I had an overwhelming Mormon experience this weekend when SML's brother's baby was being blessed.  I'm generally less annoyed during these endeavors, but the religion seemed incredibly magnified being in someone's home. You can easily tell if you are in a Mormon home by the placement of temple images every four feet or framed messages like, "Families Can Be Together Forever."  You know, if you're a Mormon.

During the testimony portion of this event I felt like cutting off my ears with the keys I had in my pocket.  I'll spare you the details as to why, but at one point I raised my voice at SML about the so-called "support" that we should show.  He said that moments before I was introduced as SML's "friend" and my face became contorted and evil.  Never before I have felt this way, or cared about titles, until I began watching the Logo series 'First Comes Love.'  And now it does matter because where has everyone been the last two years?  I'm a tag-along friend now?  I'm moving to Boston because I have nothing better to do?

SML immediately noticed that I was on the verge of going on a verbal attack and quickly announced we would not be staying for the meal.  We left looking very rushed using the excuse that I had to pack for this Phoenix trip.  And maybe I was overreacting, or maybe I'm just starting to care about these things now.  All I know is I was livid and had I not quickly exited the home I would have thrown a glass temple figurine through the window and then flipped everyone off as I exited the culdesac.  

SML and I went to Las Vegas this week for no particular reason other than that I was working in St. George on Thursday and Las Vegas was only two hours away. SML and I aren’t a great fit for Las Vegas; we don’t gamble or smoke, and we really enjoy lounging in areas where you cannot hear the constant jingling of slot machines.

It was on odd vacation, made stranger when a Klingon made sure that I was first in line for the Star Trek Experience at the Las Vegas Hilton. This point is particularly embarrassing, when we were selected by an actor portraying a Klingon to bring “order to the crowd” by starting a formal line. To be clear about this, I was still on the fence about going to the Star Trek Experience, but felt fully forced into the show when the Klingon made me the king of the line. I won’t really discuss whether I liked the show and whether or not it was worth forty-five dollars. (it wasn't)

Another point of interest on this trip was the ‘Bodies’ exhibition at the run-down Tropicana. The Tropicana reminded me a lot of a funeral home, with faded carpet and aged people who seemed to be paying their respects. It was made more complicated by the fact that we were there to examine dead bodies that had been preserved and dissected. The exhibit was vey cool, however it did make me somewhat self-conscious about my belly fat.

And of course, we went to Maddam Tussaud's wax musuem: 

SML and I made it into Boston last night, many hours later than we expected to. Our first flight was cancelled and caused a tenseness in SML like I’ve never before experienced. When we finally did leave Salt Lake City, we had already occupied the Salt Lake City International Airport for seven hours.

I felt like I was in a scene from Home Alone when we arrived in Boston, rushing through the airport and forcing our luggage into a taxi cab and directing the driver to 500 Commonwealth. We made it to SML’s reception only a couple of minutes late and I immediately went to the open bar and ordered a Heineken. I spent half of that reception marveling at the marble ceiling, and the other half subtly shooing the gays away from SML.

Much more to come, but I thought someone might enjoy these photos in the meantime.

Before I left to the Middle of Nowhere I told everyone I was going to a “resort.” I like to think positively about places that use the moon as streetlights and yield signs instead of stop signs. I didn’t really think much of coming to a small town, but I should really make it clear that “small town” to me is about the size of my hometown Layton, complete with a Macy’s, Crown Burger, and three movie theaters. This place? The only restaurant mentioned on the motel’s attraction listing is Taco Maker.

The size of this city doesn’t actually bother me…neither does the fact that the court reporter showed up in a motor home. But being away from SML makes me fidgety and anxious. It’s insane to say that, because SML generally elbows me during the nights, doesn’t cook and more often than not I’m tripping over his shoes. Oddly enough, those are the exact things I find myself missing.

Most of my anxiety started this morning after I discovered that I forgot to bring my hair things. That fact alone is enough to stop my world from turning, so it’s amazing that I even left the motel room. Without my things, my hair resembles a mix between a dandelion and those long strands of plastic with balls of light on their tips you sometimes see stuck inside Christmas trees.

Soon after I left the motel with my golden fro, I also discovered that pieces of my car break off and drag against the asphalt if I go over sixty miles per hour. It took me awhile to figure that one out and I now feel completely reaffirmed in my decision to take back-roads throughout the city instead of the freeway. My iPhone saved the day in this case, not because of the great AT&T coverage, but because the phone was displaying the wrong time zone and I was actually an hour early.

At the end of these kinds of days, I just really need an SML hug and a big slice of cheesecake.