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After thirteen years away, it was time to once again “paaaaaaaaaaaaak” the “caaaaaaaaaaa” and put the “kwaaata” in the” meeeta” in New England. What a truly fantastic trip!
Because I can never ever do any vacation simply, this particular one combined three different aspects of a get-away – a day in Boston, Ptown during Bear week, and a reunion with family.
Arriving shortly after midnight in Boston, we booked ourselves into our hotel, and went on the mad search for food. JEEBUS, it was hot and humid! Living in SoCal has made me a bit of a wuss, I’ll admit. But the record heat wave they are having in New England right now didn’t help! So donning the lightest clothes we could find, we went on our pursuit of food before turning in for the night. And then early the next day, a-touristing we went! Beginning with the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum (don’t be hatin’, bitches!), we had a fantastic excursion through a collection of beautiful world-class European antiquities. And in typical style, Paul drooled over all the Tudor stuff, while I lusted after the 15th century textiles. (Hi. My name is Joe. And I’m a history geek!) But since we were nearly in puddles the moment we stepped out, there was no way we were about to walk the freedom trail. So instead, we trammed it, getting the benefit of not only a guided tour, but a forced breeze. Other than a visit to Paul Revere’s house, we took it very easy for the rest of our Boston trip, other than an occasional stop in a bar here and there.
Early the next day, it was time to make like the pilgrims and head for Provincetown. The smell of salt water and gasoline brought back so many childhood memories from the boatyards, that I was beaming with excitement. Having never taken the ferry before, it gave me a new perspective of the town and the ever-changing seascape. And there at the dock, my sister Tina and family awaited. The reunion was so amazing, and I just gotta laugh. As kids we fought like cats and dogs. But now, all these years later, it was just so wonderful to see her and family! And for me, it was really a crazy reality check – my oldest nephew and niece have kids of their own. I’M TOO YOUNG TO BE A GREAT UNCLE – much less to 2 great nephews and 2 great nieces!
During our trip, as we walked along the town street one evening, Paul told me that I was very lucky to have grown up in such a culturally rich and charming town. At the time, I really didn’t appreciate it. But in walking the street, seeing the beautiful gardens, and shops, and the never-ending amusement of people-watching, I would have to agree with him. I’m proud to be a Portugee, and proud to be a native Ptowner! Whoever knew that would be the case?
I gotta say, I really loved being a gay man in the middle of Bear Week! It was great to see so many guys out there just expressing themselves and being so open. I told Paul that one thing that we take for granted is our obviousness. No, neither of us are what I would refer to as “Flaming”. But we are very out, very proud, and have nothing to hide. That isn’t the case for many. In fact, that isn’t the case for most. One of the things I have heard about Ptown is how wonderful it is to be able to go there to a place where to men or two women can safely walk down the street hand-in-hand. Now, let’s think about that for a moment. “safely walk down the street hand-in-hand”. What does that mean? That means that for many – for MOST – they dare not do that in public. Why? Ridicule. Persecution. Or in some cases, threats of violence. And why? For holding hands.
How horrendous that some people feel threatened – THREATENED – for holding hands!
Paul and I are very fortunate. Even in uptight and stick-up-the-@$$ Orange County, we really don’t care. We walk around everywhere holding hands. That’s just how we are. And as my wise hubby pointed out to me years and years ago, despite the fact that neither one of us are exactly kickboxers, the random punk isn’t dumb. I am 5’11” tall, and am significantly the smaller of the two of us. We don’t exactly come across as easy-to-pick-on. Sure, we may be fags. But we look like fags that will kick the snot out of anybody who messes with us, and I’m good with that!
By the time we left, the skies were overcast, and the rains were just about to come in. I had experienced relaxation, laughter, a glorious swim in the Atlantic, some wonderfully nostalgic tears, an incredible trip down memory lane, and in a few ways some closures that I didn’t expect to have.
As trips go, this one will go into the books as pretty momentous for me. And I look forward to returning.
Because I can never ever do any vacation simply, this particular one combined three different aspects of a get-away – a day in Boston, Ptown during Bear week, and a reunion with family.
Arriving shortly after midnight in Boston, we booked ourselves into our hotel, and went on the mad search for food. JEEBUS, it was hot and humid! Living in SoCal has made me a bit of a wuss, I’ll admit. But the record heat wave they are having in New England right now didn’t help! So donning the lightest clothes we could find, we went on our pursuit of food before turning in for the night. And then early the next day, a-touristing we went! Beginning with the Isabella Stewart Gardner museum (don’t be hatin’, bitches!), we had a fantastic excursion through a collection of beautiful world-class European antiquities. And in typical style, Paul drooled over all the Tudor stuff, while I lusted after the 15th century textiles. (Hi. My name is Joe. And I’m a history geek!) But since we were nearly in puddles the moment we stepped out, there was no way we were about to walk the freedom trail. So instead, we trammed it, getting the benefit of not only a guided tour, but a forced breeze. Other than a visit to Paul Revere’s house, we took it very easy for the rest of our Boston trip, other than an occasional stop in a bar here and there.
Early the next day, it was time to make like the pilgrims and head for Provincetown. The smell of salt water and gasoline brought back so many childhood memories from the boatyards, that I was beaming with excitement. Having never taken the ferry before, it gave me a new perspective of the town and the ever-changing seascape. And there at the dock, my sister Tina and family awaited. The reunion was so amazing, and I just gotta laugh. As kids we fought like cats and dogs. But now, all these years later, it was just so wonderful to see her and family! And for me, it was really a crazy reality check – my oldest nephew and niece have kids of their own. I’M TOO YOUNG TO BE A GREAT UNCLE – much less to 2 great nephews and 2 great nieces!
During our trip, as we walked along the town street one evening, Paul told me that I was very lucky to have grown up in such a culturally rich and charming town. At the time, I really didn’t appreciate it. But in walking the street, seeing the beautiful gardens, and shops, and the never-ending amusement of people-watching, I would have to agree with him. I’m proud to be a Portugee, and proud to be a native Ptowner! Whoever knew that would be the case?
I gotta say, I really loved being a gay man in the middle of Bear Week! It was great to see so many guys out there just expressing themselves and being so open. I told Paul that one thing that we take for granted is our obviousness. No, neither of us are what I would refer to as “Flaming”. But we are very out, very proud, and have nothing to hide. That isn’t the case for many. In fact, that isn’t the case for most. One of the things I have heard about Ptown is how wonderful it is to be able to go there to a place where to men or two women can safely walk down the street hand-in-hand. Now, let’s think about that for a moment. “safely walk down the street hand-in-hand”. What does that mean? That means that for many – for MOST – they dare not do that in public. Why? Ridicule. Persecution. Or in some cases, threats of violence. And why? For holding hands.
How horrendous that some people feel threatened – THREATENED – for holding hands!
Paul and I are very fortunate. Even in uptight and stick-up-the-@$$ Orange County, we really don’t care. We walk around everywhere holding hands. That’s just how we are. And as my wise hubby pointed out to me years and years ago, despite the fact that neither one of us are exactly kickboxers, the random punk isn’t dumb. I am 5’11” tall, and am significantly the smaller of the two of us. We don’t exactly come across as easy-to-pick-on. Sure, we may be fags. But we look like fags that will kick the snot out of anybody who messes with us, and I’m good with that!
By the time we left, the skies were overcast, and the rains were just about to come in. I had experienced relaxation, laughter, a glorious swim in the Atlantic, some wonderfully nostalgic tears, an incredible trip down memory lane, and in a few ways some closures that I didn’t expect to have.
As trips go, this one will go into the books as pretty momentous for me. And I look forward to returning.
