Page 18 of A Straight Line

Chapter 4

Boogie Shoes & Chicken Wings

“Did I ever tell you about the time I met John Travolta in Mykonos?” Simon was practically screaming his question when I stepped out onto the patio where the elders had gathered.

In the few minutes that had passed between the time I had been outside to talk to Denny and Bird and I had been inside to, essentially, stare at the wall, patio chairs had been drug out of the garage for the elders. Uncle Harry and Uncle Vic were seated in their matching grasshopper green metal Crosley lawn chairs out in the yard—looking every bit the older couple—and a few of the others were in canvas strap lawn chairs of varying colors. It appeared as though the patio was going to also be used for dance floor space. From my experience of staying with my uncles before, I knew that all of the lawn chairs were normally kept in the garage. In fact, they had more lawn chairs than they had sense. Dozens, to be exact. When you entertain outside a lot, I guess having dozens of lawn chairs is a good idea. Regardless, I hadn’t retrieved them, and I hadn’t seen the catering staff do the job, so I began to worry. Having men in their late 60s and 70s—a few even nearing 80—dragging lawn chairs around in summer was a bad idea. The last hurrah for A Straight Line didn’t need to start with heat stroke or heart attacks.

“No.” I heard a voice echo back from the garage. “You never told me that, Simon.”

A quick survey of the area led me to realize that Denny was nowhere in sight. Further deduction led me to realize that he was the person who had fetched the lawn chairs and was currently retrieving more.

“Well,” Simon screamed again to be heard over all of the other elders jabbering away amongst themselves, “I went to Mykonos years ago—”

“Mykonos in summer?” Felix piped up. “How original of you, Simon dear.”

“We’re queers,” Simon quipped, “it’s what we do. Anyway, I was there years ago. Now, mind you, this was just a few years after Saturday Night Fever had come out, and Johnny boy was still a hot commodity. Wouldn’t touch him now for money, mind you, but—”

“Or he wouldn’t touch you,” Felix added.

Simon shot a sideways glance at Felix but didn’t let it stop him. “Well, I just so happened to be high as giraffe pussy and completely shit-faced—and I may have been behind a seafood restaurant, reintroducing my insides to the outside—and I just happened to bump into none other than John Travolta himself.”

“That’s crazy.” Denny’s voice carried from the garage.

I shuffled across the porch to join the elders who were standing on the lawn, waiting on chairs.

“What in the fuck was John Travolta doing behind a seafood restaurant in Mykonos? Especially when he was one of the most famous faces on the planet?” One of the Five asked.

“Old Queen.” Simon waved the question off. “Looking for trade, of course. Rough or otherwise, doesn’t matter.”

“He found the rough kind.” Felix side-eyed Simon. “If anything about you was worth paying for.”

“Anyway,” Simon barked at Felix, “the point is, I went behind the restaurant to puke my guts up and ended up having them stirred around by none other than Danny Zuko.”

“Bullshit!” Several of the others barked in disbelief.

Denny’s laughter carried from the garage.

“Fuck every last one of you,” Simon said, matter-of-factly, “It was one of the greatest moments of my queer existence. Best night of my life.”

“And it’s been all downhill for the last forty years.” Felix quipped, then turned to my uncles. “Do the caterers not serve drinks around here?”

“Help yourself, you old bitch.” Harry sat forward in his lawn chair as he jabbed a finger over at the troughs filled with iced down beverages. “We didn’t pay a caterer so you could stay off your feet.”

“Wouldn’t be the first person to accept money for that job.” One of the Five quipped, making all the others roar with laughter. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the joke myself, though Felix was one of my favorites of the elders.

“I have never paid for trade,” Felix said. “How utterly common.”

“There’s no shame in doing what you have to do to get your needs met. And boys have to make a living, Felix,” Phil shrugged.

“My point exactly.” Felix sat back in his chair and gestured grandly at Phil. “Look at that beard. Some queers will let any old raggedy thing sit on their face.”

Again, the elders roared with laughter, even Phil. That was the thing about the elder gays. They lived for their absolutely soul-crushing quips about each other. However, even the butts of the jokes knew it was all in good fun. Due to my time at my uncles’ house over the years, I’d learned one thing that I believed above all else. True friends roast the fuck out of each other. And no one gets that offended.

“Hey,” Phil replied, “times are rough. So, the trade must be, too.”

Again, more cackling from the Peanut Gallery.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Denny announced as he exited the side door of the garage, three canvas lawn chairs swinging from each hand. “Don’t get yourselves too worked up. None of you have the heart for it anymore.”