î
HUMOR
Acting your age
very winter, Floyd and 1 leave
rainy Portland and fly south for
a chance to see that thing we
keep hearing about— what’s it
called again’ Ah, yes, the SUN.
We go to Palm Springs.
1 love everything about Palm
“OK, Milwaukee’s in with San
Springs. I even love the airport,
Diego, right?” I ask Floyd as I return
which was built in the 1960s in
to my chaise like someone who’s
that modem Jetsons-like way that
missed part of the game while at
people thought the future would
the snack stand.
look like hut doesn’t. 1 love how
“They’ve just brought in Cleve
we de-plane right onto the tarmac,
land and Atlanta,” he says.
“Wow,” I say. “An orgy.”
instead of being hustled through
by M a rc Acito
“N ot quite,” says Boston, who’s
the cattle chute. And 1 love stand
lying next to Floyd. “It takes five
ing at the top of the stairs, my eyes
adjusting to that fiery ball in the sky (what’s it
to make an orgy.”
called again?) and indulging my secret fantasy
“Really.7” I ask. This is news to me.
“Absolutely,”
he says, authoritatively.
that I’m Jackie Kennedy just arriving in Dallas.
1 admit it’s bizarre (particularly when you
“W hat they’re having is a /orgy
consider how badly Jackie’s day in Dallas
Who knew this trip would be so educational?
turned out), hut I can’t resist imagining myself
nfortunately, the weather turned cold and
in a pink Chanel suit as I give a little wave to
the bewildered baggage handlers below.
cloudy this year, which meant the hot tub
got so crowded it began to resemble Man
Floyd and 1 stay at Inndulge, which is aptly
Soup. With no sun to enjoy, Floyd and I caught
named. Unlike some gay clothing-optional
up on our moviegoing.
resorts, Inndulge is sexy without feeling sleazy
First we went to see Cold Mountain but were
and is, most importantly to a Chatty Cathy
thoroughly distracted by Nicole Kidman’s
like me, very friendly.
W hat’s more, you can discover all kinds of
strangely immobile forehead. It was as if they’d
cast one of those big stone heads from Easter
things about men when you see them naked,
Island. But even worse was Cher in the Farrelly
not the least of which is whether the carpet
brothers’ Stuck on You, the title obviously refer
matches the curtains, if you know what I mean.
ring
to her nose, which looked like it had been
This Inndulgent combination of nudity,
spackled in place.
homosexuality and alcohol quickly leads to so
Thank God for Diane Keaton, who was
much room-hopping it’s impossible to keep track
totally natural-looking and simply luminous in
of who is with whom. Even if you dispense with
Something’s Gotta Give. But Floyd and I weren’t
names and simply refer to people by city (as I
interested in her romance with Jack Nicholson;
do), you still need a flow chart to keep score.
E
mature man can walk into a bar, order a Meta
mucil Martini and feel proud to act his age.
And that, my friends, is The Gospel
According to Marc. jH
In praise of Palm Springs
The Gospel
According
to Marc
U
A ll
A rth o u s e ★
we wanted to see her end up with the hunky
doctor played by Keanu Reeves. Actually, we
wanted to see ourselves end up with hunky
Keanu Reeves, if only to give the boys around
the pool at Inndulge something to talk about.
At the other end of the age spectrum, we
also saw Peter Pan, which contained so much
sexual tension between its 12- and 13-year-old
leads I was worried the vice squad was going to
swoop into the theater and arrest us.
I found it an interesting coincidence that so
many of the movies we saw in Palm Springs
got us thinking about aging. You see, in Palm
Springs you’re either gay or gray— or both,
which is partly why I love it so. I’m 38 years
old, but in Palm Springs I’m not even a
chicken yet. I’m more like an egg.
So while I typically hang out with my
peers at the video bar Hunters, I always
make a point of stopping in first at the
Rainbow Cactus Café, a place that skews
so old, some call it the Rainbow Casket. It’s
unkind but true; they ought to post a sign at
the door: “Must be at least 55 to enter.”
According to Tim Bergling’s fascinating
study on ageism in the gay community, Reeling
in the Years, older and younger gay men are like
“Italian salad dressing in the fridge. You can
shake us all you want, but eventually we’ll
lift, separate and retreat to separate
halves of the bottle.”
But not in Palm Springs, which is per
haps the only place in America where a
M arc ; A c ito s first novel, How I Paid for
College, will he published in September by
Doubleday. Write him at m arc@ m arcacito.com .
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