Fear of Flying

I've always loved to travel, but I've always had a fear of flying. I had to learn to deal with my fear and it's gotten better over the last few years. My phobia subsided since I frequently fly to NYC from Suburbia as often as my reward miles allow me. It helps me to keep my sanity (no comments) of life in Suburbia. I thought I had my fear of flying under control... until my last flight. It started out like any other, but slowly evolved into my worst nightmare.

After boarding and sitting in my seat for what seemed liked an eternity, the captain made an announcement. He sounded like a twelve year old - I kid you not. I started to worry and began to sweat. Is this kid flying the plane? He said there's going to be a delay and a detour to avoid the extreme bad weather ahead. Are you kidding me? This is too much information from this "kid pilot". Is this a Woody Allen movie? My tranquilizers are not kicking in and nothing is gonna calm me down now. I became even more of a neurotic mess... on the edge. Okay, maybe this is a Woody Allen movie after all.

The plane finally took off and the "kid pilot" made another announcement. He said that we'll have to stay in our seats and keep our seat belts fastened for the entire flight. WTF? This only happens in disaster movies or in my wildest nightmare. Who the hell is this kid? He continued to say that there would be a lot of turbulence and we'll be arriving even later than the already delayed time. A lot of turbulence! What the hell does that mean? I could handle a little bump every once in awhile, but major turbulence? I do not need to hear this crap from a geek of a kid who probably hijacked the plane to live out his fantasy of playing captain. He was terrorizing this very sweaty anxious flyer. Okay, breathe. Maybe he's just the pilots son and it's "bring your kid to work day".

I started to hyperventilate. I prayed, I chanted, I tried to think happy positive thoughts. Screw it! Oh shit this is it and we're gonna die. I took another pill and tried to remain calm and not worry. That lasted for ten minutes before the plane continued to buck like a bronco. Damn! I tried my hardest to distract myself as the turbulence took over my entire being including my bladder! I had to pee, so the hell with it, I was getting out of my seat to go to the bathroom. Occupied! Naturally one was out of order and the other was occupied. The turbulence continued to increase as I got in the bathroom and I held on for dear life as this could be my farewell pee. I could hardly aim with no hands and in a shaky plane, so I totally missed the bowl and made a mess.

When I finished (after trying to clean up with one hand as the other held onto the safety handle) I spoke to the flight attendants near the bathroom. As I rubbed my hands frantically with hand sanitizer, they tried to calm me down, but it didn't work.... they were both quite anxious too. One told me this was some of the worst turbulence he ever felt, while the other one said she was nauseous from it all. Thanks for the reassurance. I managed to stumble on my way back to my seat hardly able to walk. I plopped down in my seat continuing my deep breathing, trying to refocus and concentrate on something else... my favorite things like "raindrops on roses" Oy! But really, WTF? I was on my way back "home" to Suburbia, I didn't even wanna go back there! So I gave in and thought if this is it and I'm gonna die, I had a pretty interesting life. After all I met Barbra, Liza and Cher! I closed my eyes and listened to show tunes on my head phones.

OMG! Was I dreaming? Did I doze off? We actually started the descent for our landing! We didn't even crash... oh, shit, I spoke too soon. The plane picked up speed and hit the runway shockingly hard. What a horrible landing but very appropriate for this flight and at least we were on the ground. I swear I got some gray hairs on the flight and had to check if I had an "accident". Luckily I always carry fresh undies in my carry on... just in case. This time I needed them. Fear of flying? You bet your damp panties!

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STR8 Marriage + Gay Marriage = Equality?

I am not a PC person and I am proud of this. I speak my mind and I always have. Maybe a little too much for some people, but "Some People" ain't me. And yes, that's a musical theatre reference. You don't have to agree with me, but I tell you how I feel. I express my feelings and will continue to do so... that's just who I am. 

I honestly think most people are happy when two people plan to get married. Making a commitment and sharing a life together is a very powerful thing. Gradually we will all be able to have this very basic right of Equality. How great is that? We'll all be treated equally... whatta concept! But I feel that most people seem to have a double standard when it comes to Gay Marriage and I've been guilty of it too.

Although congratulatory text messages, eMails or Facebook posts may flourish, the wedding cards, gifts or attendance don't seem to be mandatory. Gay marriage doesn't seem to be taken seriously, it's brushed off as a trend. After all... aren't all Gays trendy? How nice for those two boys or those two girls. Note the reference to the couple as "boys" and "girls" and not men and women. Hmmm.

As a Gay person, if you don't attend a straight wedding, all hell may break loose. You can alienate yourself even more. OMG, as if that's possible! In my head all I hear is: How dare you don't come to my happily ever after fairytale dream wedding that I've been planning my entire life that will finally validate me. As if the dream is exclusively just for "them".

Bride2Be: Why can't you be there?
Gay Boy: I'm getting married.
Bride2Be: Oh you're getting married too... how nice. Can you hold a second?

And God forbid you don't send a card or (hold your breath) a gift! She continues obliviously on her fairytale high.

Bride2Be: Oh and we're registered at blah, blah and blah. They have the best everything. And you know how great those will be at the holiday get togethers.
Gay Boy: I've never been invited to any of them and did you even hear me? We're getting married too?

I'm put on hold again, big surprise. Bitter or just a bite of reality? Maybe a little of both. Dismissed, disappointed, disillusioned and dissed... all around.

I believe in Equality. I believe in reciprocity. But I certainly don't believe in obligation. I don't do anything out of obligation, that's me. I believe we've come along way baby, but in my opinion... we still ain't equal.

I do. We did. They didn't. Still waiting. STR8 Marriage + Gay Marriage = Equality? A basic concept whose time has come.

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Suburbia Gave Me Syphillis?

Okay thought the title "Suburbia Gave Me Syphillis" would get your attention... it got mine too. You see I've been having ongoing lower leg pain and went to the doctor to see what the hell was wrong. Syphillis was one of the possible diagnosis I got from one of the many doctors I saw. You may have Syphillis, you may have Lyme disease, you may have MS, you may have a severe muscle spasm or your nerves may be shot. You lack certain vitamins and you may not eat right, so you need a nutritionist. You don't walk right, so you need a podiatrist. You have bad genetics, so you need a holistic doctor. You have poor circulation, so you need a cardiologist. You have a family history of crazy, so you need a neurologist and  definitely... a psychiatrist. 

Overall consensus... Ummm, we're really not sure what's wrong, but we need more tests. WTF? What I need is an answer or at least a big martini or two! Then another doctor told me perhaps I'd be happier if I moved the f*ck outta Suburbia! No shit Dr. Sherlock, I didn't need all these doctors to tell me that all I really need is a good real estate agent!

I don't have Syphillis after all... big surprise! And I'm still looking for an apartment in NYC as I sip my martinis going thru the real estate section with a large side of ice... on my legs! So much for the doctors.

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Boxed In Suburbia

I could live in an apartment the size of a box in Manhattan. I've done it before and can do it again, I don't need much space. I am always amazed at the suburban mentality of needing all the unnecessary space. Why would a couple complain that three thousand square feet is just not enough? Really, I don't get it. How much space do you really need? Gimme a studio the size of a box and I'd be happy.

Continuing my quest for happiness, I did find a box I liked in Suburbia. What kind of box you may ask, I'll tell ya... a box of wine! I finally bought and drank my first boxed wine. Okay, I'm outing myself I think I've become a Suburbanite! WTF? Like it or not, I am Out in Suburbia... at least for now. I gotta tell ya the wine was really good! A nice light tasty Pinot Noir which really paired quite well with a veggie salad and a caramelized onion, red pepper and mushroom blue cheese burger. Oh, Jesus... now I'm starting to sound like a Californian.

It was a perfect night to be sitting outside in the garden working on our play while drinking some boxed wine. OMG, who am I? I need a NYC fix! Hello United Airlines, whaddya mean there aren't any reward flights from SFO to NYC. I need the city NOW!

Pheww. Okay, I'm a little better after two glasses of wine and ten mosquito bites. What was I saying before I interrupted myself... oh that's right boxed wine. A great reason to drink wine in a box is that you never know how much wine you drink! And of course you can't break the bottle. Where am I going with this?

Here's our "How To" video of how to open your wine in a box. Who knew it was this easy? If you're unable to view the above video, please click on this link: Boxed In Suburbia 

This has to be my final initiation into Suburbia, because as you all know by now "these vagabond shoes are longing to stray". I gotta get back to NYC ASAP. I'd happily live in a studio the size of a box and the hell with the wine in a box. Manhattan box apartment vs Suburban box wine? Hmmm, hello New York? I need a box! Yes, I'll hold... for a New York minute.

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Do You Believe?

Historic DOMA/Prop 8 Rally

We were ecstatic to be a part of DOMA/Prop 8 Rally on Christopher Street last year. It was a most unforgettable day for all of us in NYC. The rally was held outside of The Stonewall Inn - the landmark bar where The Gay Rights Movement began. Edith Windsor (the lesbian who took on DOMA) gave a powerfully touching speech as the crowd cheered. Love was in the air on this hot, humid historic day. The streets were filled with a diverse crowd celebrating with signs, flags, big smiles, hugs and tears. There were news reporters, photographers and a sea of people from all over who wanted to experience and relish this special moment. Everybody was OUT in the streets!

If you're unable to view the video below, please click on this link: DOMA/Prop 8 Rally at Stonewall NYC

It's ironic for us that The Marriage Equality Act was passed in New York when we were in California and that California's Prop 8 was struck down when we were in NYC ! What's that about?

Outside of The Stonewall Inn

Either way, the fact remains that DOMA was overturned on Wednesday 6/26/13 and that it was a federal ruling. We are now "all equal" - so why don't I believe it? It's one year later and even though Marriage Equality has passed in several other States, there are still haters out there.

The local newspaper called to ask us for a reaction to the ruling for their story. I said "... it took a long time for people to realize that the world wasn't flat too... we are finally just 'as good' as everyone else..."

The Rally on Christopher Street

How great that the decision happened to coincide with NYC's Gay Pride celebration and what an extra special celebration it was for all of us. How perfect that Cher (one of the gayest icons)  performed at the NYC Pride Dance on the Pier. So yes, Cher I guess I do "Believe".

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Fine - A Four Letter Word

Fine. It's a four letter word I never use... until the other day. I was talking to my best friend on the phone when he asked how I felt and I slowly answered fine. I thought for once I'd edit my response, not complain and try to be PC. Who the hell was I kidding? This is my best friend for many years and he wasn't buying it...

Friend:  Are you kidding me? Fine. Really?

Me:  Yeah, I'm trying to be positive. I'm fine.

Friend: You're full of it, that's not you. You always say how you feel! (Pause) What's wrong?

Me: Okay, you're right.

Friend: Fine is NOT acceptable.

Me:  I know, I know. I hate that word. I think it's the first time I ever used the word fine to describe anything. What was I thinking? It's a horrible word.

Friend: I know, right?

Me: Absolutely! I am not fine. I feel terrible. I'm upset. I'm pissed off the play didn't make the final cut and I haven't slept much the last few nights. I've been a raving bitch and that's not even the half of it! Fine? F*ck FINE. It's a four letter word and I will never use it again to describe my feelings or answer a question.

Friend: Thank you, my sentiments exactly.

Me: Thanks for listening, you know me too well. Enough about me, how are you doing?

Friend: Oh thanks for asking. I'm really fine.

Me: No you're really a bitch.

Friend: Yeah, a fine bitch! Gotcha.

Me: So, talk to you tomorrow and I promise no more four letter words.

Friend: Really? Since when? I wouldn't know you any other way.

Me: Fine.

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The Party's Over

Doing NY Theatre On The Cheap

The party's over! Translation, I was in NYC and now I'm back in Suburbia. It took me awhile to write this because my transition back into suburban life takes me a looong time.

The weather wasn't great, I got the flu and didn't get to see many friends, but that all seemed secondary. We were able to work on our play we're developing "Some of These Daze" and had two readings of it in NYC. Yeah, I gotta toot my own horn about that.

I felt like a sponge in NYC seeing as much theatre as I could. Whoever says that they can't afford to see a show in NYC, I say bullsh*t! That's right I still have my New York edge, Suburbia hasn't taken that away from me... yet! There are so many options for doing theatre on the cheap, if you're flexible, patient and lucky. There's TDF, TKTS, standing room, lotteries, rush tickets, promos, discounts and free readings. And after all, it's Theatre in NYC, so there's no excuse not to do it!

Just to give you a taste, here's a partial list of what I saw. There were free readings at The Labyrinth Theatre, $30 rush tickets for "A Night with Janis" (front row), $40 rush tickets for "Lady Day at Emerson Bar and Grill", standing room for "Chicago", won the $25 lottery seats for "If/Then",  got nosebleed seats at MSG to see Justin Timberlake the day of the show (moved down closer, of course) not to mention the special Off Broadway "$20 at 20 minutes" promo, where I saw "Intimacy" and "Almost Maine". The list goes on, and ya gotta do your homework if you can't pay full price. Besides we're developing our play, so we hadda see everything!

The Party's Over

Okay, so the party's over. The Tony Award Nominations are in and I'm back in Suburbia starving for life after 8 pm. Broadway theatre and late night dinners ain't happening here in Suburbia. I'm giving up the fantasy of GAGG (Green Acres Gone Gay) because I just can't fight the odds. Suburbia may be beautiful, but bland and boring to me. Guess I'm just a "Broadway Baby".

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Tick Tock - I'm a Number Freak

I'm a freak! A number freak. What's a number freak? I'll tell you what a number freak is... at least for me. I look at the clock, see the time and the numbers are always are a significant date to me. Whenever I look at the time, of course I see the time, but that passes quickly. I see dates. I see birthdays, death dates, addresses, anniversaries... the list goes on. I know this is not normal behavior, but what the hell would I know about normal? Does anyone else do this or am I just a number freak?

Is it because I may have Dyslexia or OCD? Hmm, another topic for my next therapy session. Do I have a "thing" about numbers and dates? All I know is when I see the time I automatically see variations on the number. For example 4:10 would register to me as (obviously) 4/10 or 10/4 or 01/4.  I'm not obsessed with time (except when I look in the mirror and see what time is doing to me) or am I? 

I don't wear a watch, it's too restricting for me. (And I'd never wear one of those ridiculously huge ones that are larger than Big Ben... if I wore a watch.) I've always been late, so maybe I am a freak when it comes to time or numbers. My mother would always say how long I made her wait till I was ready to be born. (Yet another therapy session.)

Or maybe it's the fact that my father was a bookie and I would have to write down numbers for him. My parents often played cards and had card parties... numbers surrounded me.

I'm a visual person, so maybe that's the reason why I see the possibilities in numbers. At any rate, I've learned it's "time" (oops) to embrace my inner freak. Gotta go, the time says 1:24, gonna call a friend. Their birthday is on 4/21, don't wanna be late.

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