Water, Water Everywhere

Just WHAT do you do with 3,000 gay men?

In the old days I wouldn't be writing about it, but I'm engaged and oh-so-happy to stand back and watch (at least until that email-order whore/bride arrives in March). For the past two days, The Palace--ever the port of call--has endured a tsunami of men because of a gay cruise leaving later today on The Atlantis. Last night I found myself trapped in a corner of Ditmar's bar with Palace owners, Douglas and Henry, and Wire Magazine owner, Carl Zablotny, as cruise boys swirled around us.

An audible gasp emitted out of Henry at one point and he pointed to a tall--very tall--guy and said, "I need to buy him a drink". I jumped into action, introduced myself to the handsome giant, and said, "The owner wants to buy you a drink." "That's OK," giant said, "I'll get one myself." To which I replied, "When the owner wants to buy you a drink, you drink it." (I don't know where I get balls like this; I'm rather mild-mannered.)

He smiled and turned with me toward the bar and my friends, introducing himself as Paul (with a very complicated Polish surname) from Chicago. Polish from Chicago, I thought, how unique. We were all getting a stiff neck talking with him when I had to ask, "Paul, just how tall are you?" He was six foot five inches and all of us kept looking him up and down with our eyes like a searchlight (borrowed from The Woman, I know). I asked him to bend over--not like THAT, you pigs--so that I could take a photo of him with Henry. "A little more," I asked, "Bend over a little more". And finally he managed to get his handsome face to a level that did not require me to be in a cherry picker.

I wonder if he has ever been on a cruise before as the cabins are not exactly made for sweet giants like Paul. Oh well, maybe he'll be on all fours for most of the trip. I couldn't give him a peck goodbye when I spied an escape route; my tip-toed lips only reached his shoulder. I could have asked him to "Bend over", but I'm engaged.