Thursday, Aug. 07, 2003 - 7:26 a.m.

Provincetown Diaries

Day Five � Wednesday

5:15 p.m. As Corky, T-Mo, Danny and I walk down Commercial Street into the hub of P-town I am reminded of a thought I had very early last Saturday morning as Bean was driving me to LAX to catch my 7:00 a.m. flight. As he instructed me to be careful and not do anything foolish and be respectful of others and remember to wear clean Calvin�s I felt as if Bean was dropping me off at summer camp. Little did I realize at the time that was precisely what he was doing. I�ve been dropped off at an adult camp specializing in the entertainment of gays and lesbians. In my mind�s eye I can visualize the four color high gloss brochure celebrating the allure that is "Camp P-town". The brochure would attempt to entice the upscale gay-set by promoting the camp�s quaint seaside village atmosphere at the tip of Massachusetts�s Cape Cod. However, the photos of a sleepy marina and other sights of interest would be just a decoy for the brochure�s subversively coaxing of the pig in all gay men to come and check out the scene. The scenic photo of the historic Pilgrim Tower jetting into the skyline of a sleepy clapboard covered town may look like just that to the untrained eye but to the horny gay pig it is no less than a gigantic penis standing erect in front of a rock hard six pack of abs. Also, upon closer magnified inspection, the seasoned pig would easily be able to detect the numerous couples engaged in various sexual activities beneath the neighboring pier.

5:27 p.m. The brochure would suggest that Camp P-town is a place where the beauty of same sex love is nurtured, encouraged and celebrated through openness. Corresponding photo�s would perhaps highlight several couplings of handsome men walking hand in hand down the main shopping street sharing a laugh or window shopping for wedding bands outside one of the several luxury jewelry stores. But what the gay man�s straight friends and co-workers wouldn�t pick up on while snooping through the Camp P-town brochure is that couple number one are drunk and are obviously laughing because neither can believe they just had anonymous sex in a filthy alley and although they�re still holding hands they�ve no memory of the others name or that the twosome gazing in at the baubles are actually inspecting their own hair, teeth and pecs in the refection of the window before heading to a club.

5:35 p.m. We arrive at our destination. An establishment called The Boatslip that hosts T-Dance daily from 4 to 7 in the evening. I�m sure the Camp P-town brochure would highlight this as a point of interest not to be missed. The concurring photo would be that of many seemingly well-adjusted good looking sporty guys having a Sam Adams Light on a sundeck overlooking the bay. This photo would have to been taken somewhere between 4 and a quarter after. Unfortunately any photos taken after 4:30 p.m. would not be able to be included because there were be no angle for a picture to be taken that didn�t include a pack of over-build upper bodies sweaty with desire and lust for the hundreds of other half naked men drunk out of their minds and desperately cruising for a hook-up or two or three.

6:05 p.m. Yet here I am in the thick of Camp P-town, in the thick of horny gay man paradise, in the thick of T-Dance at The Boatslip, in the thick of wild drunken abandon, and in the thick of boredom. I feel like I�m on a very strict diet yet imprisoned in a bakery.

6:10 p.m. However, I am able to entertain myself by people watching. People watching being my polite term for outfit bashing. It is all I can do to keep from asking some of these guys, "Don�t you own a mirror?" or speaking to them in a harsh parental tone, "For God�s sake, have some pride." For some reason I thought people would be wearing Abercrombie khaki shorts Izod shirts or the like but my imaginary brochure in no way prepared me for a room full of men donning the tackiest of chic gay-slut-wear. No, these men would never make the brochure. Half of them are clothed overtly in their little brothers T-shirt and shorts and the other half are just not clothed.

6:15 p.m. Feeling out of it I make an attempt to gnaw the sleeves of my shirt in a bid to blend in. There is nothing I can do about the baggie shorts except shed them and confidently strut around in my fitted boxers like several of the guys posing over by the deck�s railing.

6:30 p.m. Do these guys live at the gym? Do these guys ever eat ice cream? Do these guys all know each other? Did I not get a bid to the fraternity? Although the brochure boast of three establishments offering homemade hand-packed fudge I guess the in-the-know gay pig would better understand the meaning to be for them to up their workouts from two to three hours a day a minimum of four months prior to camp reservation in order for their fudge to be packed by the waitperson of desired choice.

6:38 p.m. As it turns out the brochure�s mailing list does not target one type of homosexual. The title alone, "Camp P-town" has led others to believe that over-the-top shrieks and shrills, loud Versace prints, nonstop usage of the word, "Honey," extremely tiny beachwear, and peroxide, peroxide, peroxide would be and could be found at this camp and in galore. Luckily The Boatslip offers ankle anchors for those patrons so light in their Prada loafers they keep floating to the rafters.

6:40 p.m. Not to be biased, the opposite end of the spectrum is also represented and welcome in the fact that the brochure appeals to those a smig gruffer. When touting the serenity of the nearby beaches the aerial photo is that of a deserted strip of sand abutting a motorcycle littered parking lot which borders a heavily wooded area. Figure it out.

7:00 p.m. As T-Dance whines down I acknowledge that of course this is a Mecca of gay diversity and that is exactly what the brochure has promised. A place to vacation with family and friends, a place to feel comfortable and at ease, a place to find others just like you and meet those that are your polar opposite, a place to hold hands or give your pal the classic Times Square smooch without any fear of judgement or harassment whatsoever, to dress the way you want because you can, and if the stars are aligned just for you it can be a place to find new love or at the very least temporary love.

7:10 p.m. Corky, T-Mo, Danny and I gulp down the last of our vodka crans and join the other campers dancing to the Village People�s "YMCA" and as we do we know we�re along side our gay brothers and we�re along side them with gay pride.

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