We were up around 9:30 or so today, and broke our promise to never drink again by 3:00. We had breakfast at the poolside bar and restaurant, and I had their three-cheese omelet again. That thing is just so freaking good.
David dropped by around noon or so, and the three of us walked down to the post office, where I was unable to purchase a single love stamp, so settled for an Edgar Allan Poe one.
Back at our guest house, we had three Bloody Marys, two with booze, one virgin. I’ll let you guess which ones Joe and I had.
Shortly after that, we were standing near the lobby saying our goodbyes to David, and this cute guy named Robert—whom I’d introduced myself to yesterday when we arrived, because we kept smiling each other, me sitting by the pool enjoying our Bloody Marys, he lying by the pool nekkid as a jaybird—ran up to us with a three-quarter full bottle of Skye vodka in a brown paper bag. “This is for you. We’re leaving and can’t take it with us. It came complete with a lime in a baggie in the bag.
Of course, we attended Happy Hour from 5:30-7:00, and then we headed out to catch the early (9:00 instead of 11:00) drag show. It was a much better show than Thursday’s, and toward the end of the show one of the performers, Sushi, invited this totally hot guy up from Switzerland onto the stage for a song that she sang to him, complete with cues to lift his shirt up at various points.
Hot. Chiseled. Cute. Playful. Good sport.
He returned to his seat, and as she finished her number, I walked up to the stage and gave her a dollar tip. On the way back to my seat, I put a dollar in his tank top, and he cracked up.
Googie Gomez, the emcee, finished the night, and she was saying something about tips while she was singing. As I had just gotten twenty ones, I went up there, and grabbed one after one after one after one and stuck them in her hands. It was pretty fun. Of course the final joke was on me, with my empty pockets.
Oh well. One must support one’s community.
On the way out, we saw this group of people at the end of the downstairs bar, and when we said hello to them, we were immediately drawn to them. I said to the one girl on the corner of the bar, “Are you a lesbian? You look a little outdoorsy.”
Well, that cracked up the lady next to her, and she said, “Well, she sort of is, guess what she does for a living.”
“Is she a Park Ranger?” I asked.
They laughed, and the lady, who turned out to be Erin, said something like, “Close. But even more butch than that.” I don’t think she used the word butch, but it was something to that effect.
They introduced their whole group to us, and after a little playful banter, Joe and I headed up the street to check out the show at another bar, called Aqua, but the cover charge was $10, and we didn’t want to pay that, as we weren’t planning to stay very long.
We grabbed a bite to eat a Upper Crust. Joe got a slice of pizza, and I got a Pepperoni Calzone to go. When we left there, Joe went back to Patti, Erin, and the group that we’d met, and I went back to our place.
I stopped at the little convenience store right next to our guest house, where I grabbed a liter bottle of Diet Coke and a bag of Lays Cheddar and Sour Cream potato chips, and asked for the price before it was rung up to make sure I had enough money left. It was $7-something. I had nine ones.
Joe came in well after midnight, and well lit. He’d had a great time with the straight people, including several shots bought by them for his birthday, which rang in at midnight. Yay!