mountaineers, part the second

how shall i start telling stories of the gay bed and breakfast i went to this past labor day weekend? i'd say "queer" bed and breakfast, but trust me: there was nothing queer about it. those people didn't even really know what transgendered people were. at our last breakfast (breakfast was always served family-style, with all 30 people staying at the resort eating together in one big, really nicely appointed cafeteria, and was always absurdly fatty and wonderful), one of the two lesbians said "wait, there are that many trans people?" like apparently she thought there were maybe 5 or 6 in the world. and she's a doctor.

so, the people were a little conservative, as was to be expected. conservative yet slutty. it was the closest thing to an all-gay middle-aged summercamp that i could imagine. which is why it was such a wonderful, entertaining weekend.

i can't properly explain the kind of place that it was where we stayed. there's an outcropping of queer people on the mountain/valley where our resort was located. apparently something like 200 queer people call the place home year-round. and when the whole county has under a thousand people (most of whom, i'm sure, don't leave their shanties all that often since they're so busy frying bologna and chasing chickens around), that makes for a very queer place. which was awesome. the local diner, for instance, the "lost river grill," is owned by a gay couple from baltimore. our last night there, they were hosting karaoke at the adjacent bar. there were two tables of straight, west virginian-looking people, fat men and women with trucker hats and mullets, but everyone else in the bar was gay. it was this country bar--deer heads on the wall and everything--that turns into a gay bar every night. a DC gay bar, no less.

by the time we left, the lesbian owners of the general store were calling us by name. the air was clean, the weather perfect for driving with your windows down. i understand why people spend a weekend at lost river and end up buying a summer home there (the weekend we were there, this crazy, burly italian/jewish man named barry who works out at the DAC bought a half-million dollar home on the mountain).

but, buying summer homes isn't my lot. my lot is to park my honda accord next to their audis and bmw's, relax with them by a pool for a weekend, then go back to baltimore, refreshed and poor. and ready to go back.