Gay for a Day

I’m on another trip with my friend, Chris, this time down the coast of Florida. We meet at the Tampa airport and spend our first night with my brother, Jim who at the time is a professor of sociology at the University of South Florida.

Our road trip takes us down the west coast of Florida with stops in Fort Myers Beach, Naples, Sanibel Island, and the Everglades National Park. We eventually reach Key West. It’s October and we’re just in time for the island’s famous Fantasy Fest Week.

Fantasy Fest is basically an annual ten-day adult party. The festival began in 1979 and includes a street fair and costumes, drinking, parades and house decorating, drinking and more drinking. There are scores of people in the streets and very few inhibitions. Think Mardi Gras in October.

Enter, Chris and me.

First of all, neither one of us had ever heard of Fantasy Fest. We now understand why we had such a problem finding a hotel with vacancy on Key West in October – hardly a big travel month. We are staying on a different key, about a ten-minute drive away. Second, if you know either Chris or me you know we have landed in a place and time far, far, faraway from our comfort zone.

As far as we can see, we are the only two people walking around fully clothed and without costumes.

We are walking along, feeling awkward and out of place yet mesmerized by the sights surrounding us, when a man in a small kiosk starts chatting to us about the terrific timeshares we should see. I think he’s with the Hyatt. Key West time shares, he boasts, never lose value because everyone wants to come to Key West.

We have nothing better to do so we continue listening to the guy’s spiel. He tells us we should really go to the Hyatt to learn more about their timeshares because, if we go and listen to a thirty-minute sales pitch, we’ll get a $50 dinner certificate (for dinner at the Hyatt) and some other inconsequential gifts. The big deal is undoubtedly the $50 dinner. Just for listening.

Chris and I look at each other, shrug, and think, Why not? We tell the guy we have absolutely no interest in buying a timeshare and he assures us that that is not a problem. We also tell him we won’t be able to buy one even if we are interested because our husbands would want to be okay with it.

Mention of our husbands causes Chatty Charlie’s lips to abruptly freeze, leaving his mouth agape. “You mean you’re not a couple?” He manages.

“No. We’re both married. Why, do we look gay?” We show him our wedding bands.

“Oh,” he starts. “I don’t think you qualify for this deal.” (I think he means, “I won’t get a commission for sending you to the Hyatt.”)

He continues, “They only want couples who can buy a timeshare after hearing the sales pitch. If your husbands aren’t here and there’s no chance you’re able to buy, they don’t want you.”

I don’t know about Chris but I am offended. I want that $50 dinner certificate now more than ever.

He is a friendly and accommodating guy and either sees that we are really hungry or maybe he sees Chris’s lawyer look and is afraid of landing himself and the Hyatt into a massive lawsuit. For whatever reason, Chatty Charlie devises a devious scheme. He suggests that Chris and I take off our wedding rings and go to the Hyatt’s sales pitch pretending to be a gay couple. Sounds like a plan. He wins. We win. Hyatt, not so much.

We’re at the Hyatt and watch a video. We take a tour of two different-sized units. We ask questions and act as though we are interested in buying when, Shazam! We are interested! After an hour Chris and I are captivated with the idea of owning a timeshare in Key West. Before we know it, we’re nearly two hours in.

It’s time to sit down with the sales rep and discuss which size unit we are interested in and which weeks we’d like and which weeks are available. Chris and I have a discussion – Can the rep hear us? – about a one-bedroom versus a two-bedroom. A two-bedroom would allow us to vacation together. Then we discuss which weeks we would want the timeshare. If our sales rep is listening, she clearly must have thought it extremely odd that this couple – Chris and I – are discussing which week I would have the timeshare versus the week Chris would have it. Why wouldn’t we want to vacation together?

Some how, we finally come to our senses and are able to escape the clutches of the intoxicating timeshare dream. We tell the rep we will discuss it over dinner. She tells us as soon as we leave the confines of the timeshare offices, there will be no deal to be had. We said “Okay,” and leave.

You know those popular Escape Rooms? They ought to develop a new room with a theme involving timeshare sales pitches and how to escape the tentacles of the timeshare sales rep.

It’s funny but that was not the first time I was mistaken as part of a gay couple.

Pat and I were on a long weekend vacation in Toronto with another couple. Toronto’s public transportation system happened to be on strike that weekend, so we found ourselves having to walk just about everywhere. On this particular night, after rejecting several restaurants on our walk one evening, we were desperate to find an eatery that had more than just seafood on its menu.

We finally found an Irish pub. Hallelujah! We found a booth and sat down, Pat and I on one side, Dave and Theresa on the other. The waitress came over and we told her we wanted separate checks. She pointed her pen at Theresa and me and asked, “You two?” And then she pointed her pen at Pat and Dave and asked, “And you two?” What? Why would she think Theresa and I were sharing a check and Pat and Dave? Especially since the two girls were sitting on opposite sides of the table as were the two guys. We laughed after she took our order. What a dip.

Some time passed and our food arrived. At some point Theresa looked over the shoulders of Pat and me with an odd look on her face. Then she started laughing and told us to turn around. The makeshift dance floor (basically a table-less area behind the stools at the bar), is full of couples dancing. Male couples. Not a single woman in sight.

We had wandered into a gay Irish pub! How specialized is that for a restaurant?

So, the lessons I think we can take away from these experiences are these:

1. Sometimes you have to pretend to be someone you’re not in order to get a free dinner, and
2. Sometimes, when you’re looking for a fishless meal in Toronto, you may wind up in a gay Irish pub. ✿