Rollin' along

Ol’ man river, he just keeps rollin’ along

Ol’ man river

Tyler pulled into the car park, parked up and got out of the car to greet us. We were introduced and I resigned myself to a weekend of being called British, rather than Chris. The new nickname was actually starting to grow on me. I thanked Tyler for letting me crash their West Virginia weekend. We loaded our luggage into the car and headed into Shepherdstown. There was a liquor store en route so we called in to stock up on supplies for the weekend. The little liquor store had Hendrick’s gin and I duly bought a bottle. Tyler sent a message to some of the other guys who were at the grocery store to add tonic and cucumber to the shopping list for me.

The drive to the house took us through some great countryside. We turned off the main road onto a small country road that would be barely wide enough should we meet anything coming the other way. A short while later we turned again, going through a gate onto an even narrower road. Tyler explained that we were here and that he had to go slow because of the deer that roamed the grounds. We got to spot some of them on the drive up to the house. My fears about there not being enough room for me were instantly quashed as the house came into view.

  

View of the Potomac from the pool

Tyler showed everyone to their rooms. Robby and I were staying above the garage, a space that rivalled the size of my flat back home in London. We took our cases up and were finally able to say hello to each other properly. We headed back downstairs and made our way through the house and out to the back garden. I was introduced to some more of the gang – Robert, Bill and Jessica. There was a chorus of “Hey British” from them. The back garden was equipped with an outdoor kitchen, bar & dining. I cracked open the Hendrick’s and made myself a drink, joining Robby in admiring the view of the sun setting behind the trees, the Potomac River visible at the end of the garden.

By the side of the pool were a couple of boards with holes in them and some small red and blue beanbags. I asked what the game was and was introduced to cornholes. As someone who loves a good double entendre this was the game for me. Touching the hole, dirty bags, back door, woody…it was as though someone had built the game around a list of rude words. The basic rules are you take it in turns throwing your bags at the board, scoring three points for getting it in the hole, two if it is touching the hole and one for being on the board (a woody). I played Betty and he wiped the floor with me. Robby and Betty then took on Tyler and Robert, a rematch of the previous years championship final. Cornholes gets very competitive.

The final members of the gang arrived and I was introduced to Shelton, Dmitri and MacReadie. Everyone was soon enjoying a drink by the pool and chatting. I watched Robert and John play beer pong, another game I had never played. I wondered if you could play gin & tonic pong instead? In the excitement of getting to DC and the train journey to West Virginia I had missed out on lunch so the Hendrick’s was going to my head. I needed some food so I ate the cucumber slices from my drink. The original plan had been for the eleven of us to go out for dinner in town. Trying to get ten gays and a girl all ready at the same time would have been a Herculean task so Tyler made the great call to order some pizza.

After dinner and a few more drinks I was introduced to another American game I had never played before – flip cup. We split into two teams. My team consisted of me, Robby, Dmitri and Shelton. We faced Robert, Tyler, MacReadie and John. We played first to ten. I think we lost the first game 10-2. We fared slightly better on the second game but still lost. I think I may have been the weakest link on the team. Everyone was polite to me as the first-timer though. They were a nice bunch of guys and made me feel like part of the gang.

He just keeps rollin’ along

The following morning I woke fairly early. The kitchenette was stocked with the basics so I made a pot of coffee. Robby and I got ourselves ready and headed downstairs. Bill was already making a start on cooking breakfast. I offered to help but he had everything under control. Eventually everyone was up and we had breakfast before getting ourselves ready for a day of tubing on the Shenandoah River. I had never been tubing. It really was a weekend of firsts for me.

Shenandoah River

Having checked in, listened to the safety briefing and made our way by old school bus to the river and chosen our tubes we were ready to set sail. The first task was a lengthy paddle across the river to get to the faster water. Not as easy as it looked and I was pleased that I wasn’t one of the people having to tow the tubes that had our cooler full of beers. The group finally made it across and we were soon floating down the river, chatting, enjoying a drink and taking in the stunning scenery.

Highlights of the day included seeing Betty wearing his large purple tinted sunglasses as he perched on a rock surveying the crowds, avoiding the mental pirate guy smoking a cigar, watching Dmitri having to tow John, Shelton & MacReadie because they had all decided paddling was too much effort and getting into a conversation with a woman who I thought had said “Get a photo of the Brit” while pointing at me. She had actually said bridge.

Betty

Nothing however will beat the sight of Betty trying to exit the river after about four hours of tubing. It had been perhaps an hour too much tubing for Betty, the enjoyment having been replaced by the need for food and a stiff drink (a sentiment echoed by most of the group). The exit point was crowded with people who were making slow progress towards the bank. The progress was too slow for Betty who was determined to be out of the water as quickly as possible. There was a stumble and Betty ended up on his arse in the river, a string of mumbled expletives followed. We eventually all made it out of the river and back to the place we started. I had not done quite so much exercise in a long time and I knew I would be stiff in the morning.

The drive back home was fairly subdued, people were tired and hungry from the afternoon on the river. As we got closer to the house the mood lifted and even Betty was able to laugh about the sight he must have looked exiting the river. Everyone headed off to shower and change ready for another evening of food, drink and games.

“Ol’ man river, he just keeps rollin’ along” 
Lyrics from Ol’ Man River from the musical Showboat

Choo-choo-choo

Choo-choo-choo, with enough left over for a whoo-whoo! 

Choo-choo-choo

My flight into DC was on time. I landed about 40 minutes before Robby’s flight from Atlanta was due in. I made my way to baggage reclaim and waited for my suitcase to appear. I knew Robby would only have carry on so the timing of us both being ready to leave the airport would be perfect. I willed the baggage handlers to hurry up with the luggage. I wanted to be waiting at Robby’s gate. I should have made a sign to hold up. My case finally arrived, I grabbed it and power minced through the airport to the gate the Atlanta flight was at. According to the boards it had already arrived. I waited at the gate, wondering if he had already disembarked. I had butterflies. After a few minutes a trickle of people started coming through the gate. I wondered if they were the Atlanta passengers.

As I waited I saw a face I recognised. It wasn’t Robby but a guy that I used to work with. He had been seconded to the UK for a couple of years but had since returned back to the States. He was the third person I knew who I had randomly bumped into during my three months of travelling. We caught up briefly and I found out that the people coming through the gate had been on the Atlanta flight. I saw Robby heading towards me. He spotted me and a grin spread across his face. We gave each other a big hug. He had his bag on his back, which meant my hands ended up lower than I had intended. However, it meant that I left the airport knowing he had a nice firm bottom.

We got the subway to Union Station, chatting all the way there. I asked which members of the West Virginia gang we would be meeting first. His friends John & Rob, who everyone called Betty, were already at the station. Everyone else was either already at Tyler’s parents’ place or on the drive up. I asked why Rob was called Betty. Robby explained that someone had once told him that he had a laugh like Betty Rubble from the Flintstones and the name had stuck. I said I didn’t think I could call a guy I had never met before Betty so would he introduce him as Rob. He said he would but nobody called him that and I would be told to call him Betty. We arrived at Union Station and Robby got a message that John and Betty had sorted out train tickets and were waiting in a bar in the station. We headed for the bar.

Robby gave his friends a big hug then started on the introductions. He said, “This is British,” pointing at me. He introduced me to John & Rob. Rob immediately said “Everyone calls me Betty”. Ok, so I would be calling him Betty then. We pulled up a couple of chairs and joined them for a couple of drinks. The conversation was constant and when Betty laughed I could see why the nickname had stuck. He had a laugh that would make you laugh just hearing it. It soon approached the time we needed to think about getting ourselves sorted for the train. We asked the barman if there was a liquor store in the station. There normally was but it was currently closed as they were moving location. The nearest liquor store was a few blocks away. We needed beer for the train.

Robby was volunteered to do the beer run. It would be close if we were to make the train. As we sat waiting for him to return Betty explained to me that Robby had a shocking sense of direction so we had probably sent the worst person off to get the beers. However, with about five minutes to go before the train was due to leave Robby returned. Not only had he got an 18 pack of beers he had also managed to get a polystyrene cooler box and a bag of ice. Such good service! We collected our luggage and the four of us headed for the train. The first few carriages were all fairly full so we carried on down the platform. We came to a carriage that looked virtually empty so we climbed aboard. There was one set of four seats that faced each other at the end of the carriage so we settled into them, taking up a couple more rows with our bags and beer.

With enough left over

A group of workers who had boarded just after us seemed a little perturbed by our seat choice. We had made the cardinal sin of sitting in the seats that regular commuters always sat in. They outnumbered us about three to one but we held our ground and they were forced to sit a few rows further back. As more of their group arrived the new arrivals would point out loudly that there were strangers sat in their seats. We explained that we had 18 beers between four of us so had two left over that we could share. One of the guys, who seemed to be the ringleader, took a beer. Once they had come to terms with not getting their usual seats they were very friendly and they chatted to us for the whole journey. They certainly made the 90-minute train ride a fun experience that would be difficult to forget.

It turned out that they all sat together in the exact same seats every day of the week and had done so for years. They also liked to have a drink on the way home. Not only did they have regular seats they had a beer rota and were on first name terms with the ticket inspectors. They had even made the local news, a feature having been done on the MARC “Party train”. We were in the presence of celebrities.

They asked where we were headed and where we were from. Robby told them that we were from Atlanta. One of them looked at me and said “You aren’t. You have an accent. Where in Australia are you from?” I said I was from London, England. I have no idea why so many Americans think I am Australian. They asked what I was doing. I told them that I was spending a year travelling the world with the sole aim of sitting in the seats of regular train commuters forcing them to sit elsewhere. Betty laughed quite loud. From some of the conversations and questions we were asked it was obvious the regulars caught on to the fact that we were gays. I’m not sure what gave it away. It could have been Betty’s laugh…

Whoo-whoo

Duffields "station"

We finally arrived at Duffields station and got off the train. Station is perhaps a little bit of an overstatement. There was a concrete path at either side of the track, one small shelter on the opposite track, a car park and then nothing but trees. Betty sent Tyler a message to say that we had arrived so he could come and collect us and take us to the house, via the liquor store. As the commuters who had got off the train got into cars and left we were left alone in the car park. I pointed out that had we all been pretty blonde girls it would be reminiscent of the start of a horror movie. We finished off the last of the beers as we waited for Tyler arrived to take us to the house.

“Choo-choo-choo, with enough left over for a whoo-whoo!” 
Lyrics from Light at the End of the Tunnel from the musical Starlight Express

Wheels are in motion

Suddenly the wheels are in motion, and I, I'm ready to sail any ocean

Suddenly

The flight to Fort Lauderdale was short and uneventful. 24b was occupied but not by Robby. I got a cab from the airport to the gay resort that I had checked in to. It would be the first time proper on my trip that I would not be with someone and I was looking forward to being able to catch up on a bit of sleep and recharge my batteries. It would also be my first ever time at a gay only resort. I’d never really been one for doing the whole gay holiday resort thing back home.

Having checked in and been shown around the place I headed to the nearest store to pick up a few supplies for the few days that I would be there, getting caught in a massive thunderstorm on the way back. I dried off and checked my messages. At dinner the previous night Bob had emailed one of his friends who had Miami contacts. There was a short chain of emails, the upshot of which was an offer of a place in Miami for the following weekend, the weekend before I left the States. I emailed the potential host back saying I would be very grateful of the place to stay. That only left me needing to sort out the upcoming weekend and the few days after.

There was also a message from Rick and Craig, some friends of Tom, my Portland gay for October. They apologised that they couldn’t host me in Fort Lauderdale as they were headed out of town for a few days but they were free that evening for dinner if I was around. I messaged back saying that I was. They came over later in the evening and picked me up and took me over to Rosie’s Bar and Grill. The restaurant was located in Wilton Manors, the Fort Lauderdale gaybourhood. They pointed out the local bars and gave me some tips on places to eat and drink. The food was good. I had a wrap that required both hands to pick it up, with fries. That and the couple of pints I washed it down with was enough to make me ready for bed. Rick and Craig dropped me back at mine & wished me a fun time in Fort Lauderdale and safe travels. I wished them a good week away as they were off to celebrate a large birthday of Rick's.

The following morning I got up and headed to breakfast. I helped myself to some coffee and a bagel and sat outside by the pool. The resort was fairly quiet, it being midweek and off-season. The other guests seemed to mainly be older guys. I figured it would be a good chance to give my liver a bit of a breather. After breakfast I headed down to the beach as the weather forecast was predicting a nice morning and afternoon rain. The short walk to the gay beach at 10am had me fairly warm by the time I got there. I spent a while laying on my front reading my book but sweat kept dripping on the book so I gave that up and turned over. I propped myself up on my elbows and watched the world go by for a while. I decided it was time to leave when my belly button had filled with sweat for the fifth time. I went back to the resort and cooled off in the pool, had a swim and had an afternoon siesta while it rained. I had dinner that night with David and Ed, a couple I had chatted to in the pool earlier in the day. We were joined by another guy who was staying at the resort, Brick and the four of us headed to Big Louie’s Pizzeria. I could see why Louie would be big with the size of the portions they served.

The wheels are in motion

After dinner I chatted to Robby on Skype for a little while. He said that he was off to West Virginia for the weekend with some friends otherwise he would have invited me back to Atlanta. I said we would have to catch up when I was back in the States in October after the South American leg of my tour. He said that was a long time away. He then suggested I join him in West Virginia. All I would need to do is book a flight to DC and get the train from there with him and his friends. I asked if his friends would be ok with me gate crashing. He sent a message to Tyler, as it was his parents' house that they were staying in. I checked the price of flights to DC. Not too expensive considering the short notice. We chatted for an hour or so but there was no response from Tyler. Robby said he would speak to him in the morning and let me know.

The following morning I had breakfast by the pool again, sitting with Brick. David & Ed said goodbye as they were headed home that day. Another couple who I had chatted to the day before, James & Brian, joined us. The four of us spent the day round the pool. In between dips in the pool to cool off and chat to the other guys I did some writing and kept checking my phone for any word from Robby about West Virginia. Around lunchtime I got the all clear and Robby said he had checked the flight prices and they were the same as the day before. With Tyler being more than happy for me to join everyone for the weekend, I booked my flight. It was less than 24 hours until the flight so I also checked in for it too. My stomach was doing somersaults. It was the first really impulsive detour of my travels, one that I was very much looking forward to.

For dinner that evening I headed to a Cuban restaurant called Catalina. We were greeted by the host, Mario, who shook hands with each of us and showed us to a table. To say he was on the effeminate side would be an understatement. We were all given menus. Mario asked if we had ever had Cuban food before. I was the only one who hadn’t. This apparently meant that Mario would be in charge of ordering for us. He took away our menus before we had even had a chance to look at them. He asked us if there was anything we didn’t eat. I said kidneys.

The plate of appetizers that appeared a short while later was huge – empanadas, tamales, pulled pork, some sort of chicken thing. All of it was very tasty and I wasn’t sure I needed the main course, which was a mix of red snapper and beef. The food was great but the service was bizarre and Mario creeped me out a little bit. He was very touchy feely with everyone. As we were settling up the bill Mario kissed James on the top of his head. We all looked at each other and made a hasty exit. We returned to the resort and I headed off to pack my case and get myself ready for my flight to DC in the morning.

I'm ready to sail any ocean

I was up early the following morning, excited at the prospect my trip to West Virginia. I had breakfast, said goodbye to the guys and got a cab to the airport. I checked in, cleared security and headed for the gate where I found a seat. I had been sat down for about two minutes when I decided I needed a coffee. I could see a Starbucks a little further down the terminal building. As I got up to go get myself a coffee they were just finishing an announcement that someone had left a Hello Kitty bag at security at that the owner should return to collect it. Everyone looked at me getting up out of my chair. I went bright red. I got myself a coffee making it as obvious as possible to the other passengers that is where I had just been, not to security to collect a Hello Kitty bag. We boarded on time. I was off to see Robby.

“Suddenly the wheels are in motion, and I, I'm ready to sail any ocean” 
Lyrics from Suddenly from the musical Xanadu

My face is flushing

My pulse is rushing, my head is reeling, my face is flushing

My pulse is rushing

My final evening in Atlanta. Earlier in the day Preston’s friend, Robby, had given me his phone number to organise dinner so I dropped him a text, asking what time he was free & where he wanted to go, explaining it was the British gay guy in case he was wondering who the message was from. His response was “Hey British. I live near the park so somewhere midtown”. I told him that he could call me Chris and that midtown worked for me as George’s place was midtown too. We exchanged a few more messages. He kept calling me "British". We arranged to have dinner at a place in midtown called Marlow’s Tavern.

Margaret Mitchell House

I sent Bob a message with the restaurant name, location & time we were getting there. Robby said that he could pick me & George up on his way to Marlow’s as he would be driving and would pass George’s place on his drive over. I said that it didn’t look like it was too far of a walk for us and it would take us right by the Margaret Mitchell House so I could get some photos. George and I set off towards the restaurant. As we stood waiting to cross 10th Street the driver of a car going by waved at me. I waved back, not really getting a good look at the guy behind the wheel. George asked who I was waving at. I told him that I assumed it was Robby as I didn’t know that many Atlantans. I got a text a few minutes later from Robby saying “Hey British!!!” which confirmed my assumption that he was the driver.

George and I arrived at the restaurant first. I did a scan of the place but couldn’t see Robby. Having only seen a couple of photos of him on Facebook I wasn’t 100% sure I would recognise him. We settled ourselves into a booth and ordered a drink. A few minutes later Robby arrived and I stood up to greet him. My heart rate immediately picked up and my throat went dry. He was a good couple of inches taller than me, very good looking, piercing blue eyes, a perfect smile and he was wearing a t-shirt made it clear that he had good arms, shoulders and pecs. He started to speak and had an accent that made me want him to just talk at me all night. I introduced Robby to George, explaining how I knew George, and explaining to George that Robby was a friend of my NOLA host. I also texted Bob to let him know that Robby was fit, knowing he would realise that meant I fancied him. Bob knows me well enough to know that I am not the best at talking with men I fancy.

My head is reeling

Bob duly arrived and the four of us chatted and ordered some food. I was sat next to Robby and was doing my best not to stare at him. Bob, sat opposite Robby, did a great job at keeping the conversation flowing. Given I was the common denominator between the other three diners I was often the topic of conversation. At one point Robby asked Bob “So how long have known British?”. Bob replied “Oh I’ve known Monkey for years”. I pointed out to both of them that I had been given a perfectly acceptable forename and they should feel free to actually use that. Neither of them acknowledged my request.

Ok, so Robby was tall, good looking and clearly knew where his local gym was. Maybe with all that going for him he was going to be thicker than two short planks. To try and test my theory I asked what he did for a living. He said he was a lawyer. I think most people would agree that the test for stupidity had given an inconclusive result. A few more questions revealed that he was well travelled and cultured. Crikey. I guess if I had a “type” then he would fit the bill, having ticked a lot of the boxes already. I’d only just met him so there were some things I felt I couldn’t ask to see if he ticked the remaining boxes.

My face is flushing

I was fairly quiet over dinner, conscious about not wanting to say anything stupid in front of Robby. Trying not to stare was difficult. At one point we both moved in our seats and our legs ended up touching for a moment or two under the table. I could feel my cheeks burning. A couple of gin cocktails helped though and the four of us had a very enjoyable dinner and conversation. Everyone seemed to get on really well and it was a great last night out. We all declined dessert (typical gays) and the waitress brought us our bill. We settled up and then came to say goodbye. Robby gave me a hug, giving me a chance to confirm that he did indeed know where the gym was and that he visited regularly. He said goodbye to Bob and George and made a quick exit. I’d missed my chance to ask if he fancied a nightcap and I mentally kicked myself.

My lovely host George

Bob was headed back downtown to his hotel so George and I walked him as far as the road with the MARTA station & pointed him in the right direction. We said goodbye, got a couple of photos of me with Bob & George and walked back home. I needed to pack so set about doing that as soon as we got back to George’s. I’d just finished packing when my phoned vibrated. I picked it up – it was a message from Robby. He said that he had had a really nice evening and wished I was staying in Atlanta a little longer. My heart rate picked up. I replied, telling him the feeling was mutual. He told me to change my flight to Fort Lauderdale for one later in the week, I told him to bunk off work and come to Fort Lauderdale. I sent a message to Preston telling him about the evening.

The next morning I did the goodbye and thank you routine with George and made my way to the airport. I checked in for my flight and made my way through security to the departure lounge. Robby sent me another message telling me I should stay in Atlanta a few more days. I sent him a photo of my boarding card (seat 24a), telling him I was already checked in and Florida bound. I told him if he hurried he could still get to the airport in time for the flight. I had some breakfast to pass the time until boarding. As I sat in my seat waiting for the plane to fill up I quickly checked Facebook to see what the latest news amongst my friends was. Robby had updated his status to say he wished he were in 24b. I smiled. I took off for Fort Lauderdale, part of me wishing I were staying in Atlanta for a few more days, part of me wondering if I would get to see him later on my trip.

“My pulse is rushing, my head is reeling, my face is flushing” 
Lyrics from What Is This Feeling from the musical Wicked