A Flock of Seagulls Shit on Me!

Wednesday I was sitting at work pondering how I would spend the long holiday weekend. Even though the first choice for the trendy New York City gay is to trek out to Fire Island, don their itsy bitzy teeni weenie yellow polka dot bikini and be kissed by the sun gods. Alas, I am not that kind of gay. Nope, I am the kind of gay that would trek the 2 hours southwest back to Philadelphia for the weekend. I emailed my good friend Brian  and secure my place on his couch and bought my bus tickets.

My journey to Philadelphia started waiting in line for the always prompt Megabus (I am using sarcasm to make my point). As I stood in there in the sun I sighed with relief of the end of the bad weather. Then all of a sudden I felt something wet hit me. Then there were splashes all around me. At first I thought it was a freak hailstorm but to my dismay I was mistaken. I was being shit on by a flock of seagulls. No, not the 80s electro band with the iconic hair, a real honest to god flock of seagulls that were taking flight from a nearby billboard. These winged creatures covered me with white bombs. Worse than that, there were a couple direct hits to my head. Now, I did what I could to remove the bird shrapnel from my scalp but that stuff is more potent than industrial strength hair putty! I have heard that being shit on by a bird is a sign of good luck. I was hoping that being shit on by multiple birds would amplify my luck. Or maybe it would have the reverse effect.

Good Luck: Bus Arrived.

Bad Luck: The bus arrived about an hour late.  Just imagine how ripe I smelled after baking in the sun for over an hour covered in bird shit.

Good Luck: I did get a nice base tan waiting for the bus.

Bad Luck: I felt sweaty and gross and will probably end up with skin cancer because of the same base tan I was elated about before.

More Bad Luck: After being stuck in rush hour traffic we finally arrived in Philly around 6pm. I had to walk right through the Gayborhood to go pick up the keys to Brian’s apartment. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it wasn’t prime happy hour time. This was not the homecoming I envisioned, smelly and sweaty and covered in once white speckles that have now turned to brown. Not a happy camper was I.

Even More Bad Luck: After I picked up the keys my first thought was “Vodka, vodka and more vodka!” then I took a whiff “No, I need a shower first, then vodka!” I was making my way to Brian’s apartment, I turned the corner and saw all of Andrew’s friends ahead of me coming out of their AA meeting (yes, Andrew is in AA. That is a story for another time). Fuck, there was no way around it or them. I considered turning around but It was too late, I was spotted. This is exactly how I would love Andrew to see me. (I am using sarcasm again to make my point).

Good Luck: Andrew was not there. Whew!

The next day was filled with nothing but good luck. I got to catch up with so many old friends and walk around my old haunts. It was exactly what I needed. My time in Philadelphia would not be complete if didn’t go on my favorite gentlemen’s socializing networks. Only to see who was on, of course.

Oh my god, as soon as I logged on to Manhunt I saw a guy the I had the hugest crush on. We had mildly flirted before. He’s six foot something; red hair (I guess my fetish for red heads started some time ago), a trainer (but not a vapid trainer, he’s smart, he was in the arts) and he started to message me. We made chit chat for a bit. He asked me about New York and then he asked me if I wanted to meet him for a drink. I am no fool; I know what “a drink” means. I told him my status. He told me where to meet him. I thought here is that good luck!

Within twenty minutes I showered, changed my cloths and on my way to meet this red headed bumpy past crush. More than a crush really, he was someone I fantasied about. Definitely Good Luck!

We had one drink and he asked me if I wanted to go back to his place. He sat me down on his couch and he started me. We undress each other and well lets just say that the rest of him matched his overly sized muscular body. That was a lot of good luck!

We rolled around naked for no more than ten minutes before he finished. Bad Luck, Definitely bad luck.

Within another ten minutes I was back on the streets of Philadelphia wondering to myself, “What just happened?” Extremely back luck.

As I stood on a street corner in historic Philadelphia, I cursed a flock of seagulls for ruining my long ago fantasies. So I ran, I ran so far away back to New York City!