A blank face grabbed my elbow as I stepped out and saved me from tumbling out of the cab.
“I’m okay, I’m okay”, I declared with my hands out at my sides. I looked to see who owned the blank face and it was one of the bellhops. He reminded me to pay the cab driver and I followed his instruction, then I walked to my room staring down at the ground in front of me and breathing heavy.
“Fuck you Henry”, I texted upon entering my room, “Ha Ha! What an asshole, haha.”
I organized all of my things into neat little piles so that it would be ready for a quick escape and then folded myself into the corner of the bed. I was way drunker than I intended to be that last night in Dubai and the next day I missed my flight.
**********************************************************************************
She didn’t show. I arrived at the airport an hour early for my flight since I was travelling t a different country and knew the process may be a little longer than usual. I sat at and had a coffee and something that tasted like a bacon croissant and listened to my music then headed to the boarding area and waited to be called onto the plane. I pictured her walking past me with a bag slung over her shoulders, looking a little exacerbated by her journey to the airport. I figured I’d play it cool and say something along the lines of “I didn’t think you’d show”, with a nonchalant tone. While I waited the two cute girls that kept looking over at me and made me conscious of every move that I made. I tried to position myself in poses that were flattering to me while sneaking looks back at them every once in awhile, trying to return the sexual longing that I saw in their eyes. I wondered whether Moon’s showing up would make them pay more or less attention to the me… but she didn’t show so that wasn’t an issue.
As always I sat nowhere near the two girls I had my eye on. I was positioned at very back of the plane, luckily though, the seats still reclined and I took a nap while the rest of the passengers boarded. For awhile I thought I may have the back row to myself but two men eventually occupied the seats beside me. I had the window seat and the man directly next to me looked like Andy Garcia. Oddly enough, the man in the aisle seat looked like a Kuwaiti Jon Cryer. I fell back to sleep while the plane took off and awoke to see these two rising from their seats to delve into the overhead bins where their bags were. I figured they were retrieving laptops to pass the hour ride to Dubai but I was wrong. Each of them had their own white Chili’s to-go box stuffed in their suitcase.I laughed when they sat down and Andy Garcia shrugged at me, opened the box and muttered something in Arabic. I replied in English that I had never seen someone do that.
“I never completed this before.”
I think he meant that he had never done this before but thought it was an odd choice of words. Completed implies that he tried before but somewhere the plan went awry. I pictured him trying another time but having the food nabbed at customs or something.
“Anything to declare?”
“A sandwich and fries.”
I rejected his offer to share, put my music back in my ears and tried to sleep the rest of the trip. The coffee kept my mind awake, though and I spent most of the trip thinking of the two girls that were sitting four rows ahead of me.
I stopped played leapfrog with the girls through the airport until I reached the duty-free shop where I stopped and purchased a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. I saw them again when I approached a cab and thought about trying t jump in theirs but didn’t. I sat in the front of my cab and spoke at leisure with the cab driver about the circumstances that brought him to Dubai and the city itself. He was Indian and came to Dubai as with all expats anywhere in the middle-east, to make money. He was afforded sixty days of leave a year for him travels home, which I was kind of jealous of. He didn’t seem to know anything about the brunch scene in Dubai and made me chuckle a little once when he described the main road as resembling New York City. Obviously, he’s never been. Something I’ve noticed about the people in the middle-east is that they think their things are the best in the world. They think because they’ve been building this city up for the last twenty years or so that now they are at competition with the west… and winning. Don’t get me wrong, I realized during the drive in that this was a nice fucking city. The modern architecture that the city has been built with is really quite beautiful to me. In my head I pictured Dubai like a big Vegas and in reality it is more like a cross between Vegas and Denver or any another nice city that is small in stature. For him compare it to NYC was funny to me. I imagine lots of people here really believe this, because that is probably what their sheik or whoever it is that rules this place, claims. One day… maybe. I don’t want to underestimate their ambition but at this moment in time, their skyline is miniature in comparison. I paid the man when we arrived at the hotel and stepped into luxury.
The hotel was actually way the fuck nicer in person than it ever appeared in the pictures I saw online. In a way I originally thought the interior looked a little cheesy. I chose the place because of its beach and it’s location to that sailboat thing which I really find gorgeous and wanted to gaze at as much as possible… and the pool bar. The colors of the hotel that looked cheesy online are vibrant and appealing in person. For as early as it was the hotel was busy. I guess a lot of people had plans or were checking out early. The Chinese woman at the front desk apologized for her accent but I found it endearing. I wasn’t expecting t be able to check in early but thought it was worth a try. There were many people ahead of me that looked as though they had been waiting for a room for hours but the receptionist smiled and said my room was ready. The Russian man next to me looked irate about this and threw his arms up and guffawed to no avail. I would see this same man and his wife three hours later, still waiting for a room when I headed towards the pool gleaming. I am not one to brag. I appreciate everything that I have been afforded in this life and realize that things could have turned out differently for me at many points in my life had I chosen a different route but I am not living and working in Kuwait for pennies. Any other time in my life I probably would be in the same position as this man because I would have tried to save some money and gone with the cheapest room available, which always gets cleaned last. It was nice to be on the other side of things for a change, especially since my stay was going to be brief.
The thing that no one ever mentioned t me about Dubai was the inordanant amount of beautiful women… EVERYWHERE. My friends in Kuwait are intent in finding me a woman to lay with for some reason like I’m their pet project or something. You’d think they would have mentioned the fact that there is a ton of potential here. I found out later, after making friends with some Brits that call this place home, that this was not a normal Friday here. Henry noticed the abundance of pretty women as well.
Henry and Sam(antha) have been living in Kuwait awhile. They went to school together here, dated once, but are now just good friends. I met Henry after he saw me speaking to Sam and saw the threat that I posed. I hadn’t smoked a cigarette in three months but going back t basics I used this as my excuse t talk to the pretty girl that stood alone at the end of the pool near the bar to strike up a conversation. It wasn’t a minute before Henry had rushed in to guard his territory. I immediately backed off but continued to talk with the two. They took to me quickly and it wasn’t long before we started making plans for the night. Henry moved t Dubai 19 years ago, as an infant. His father moved his family to Dubai from southern UK when he saw the financial possibilities and never looked back. Henry worked on oil rigs and was “living the life”. Sam had been in Dubai ten years. Her parents probably moved her there for similar reasons but we didn’t get into the details. She worked as a infant teacher. She worked primarily with children aged 15-48 months old, teaching them through art. I was really quite fond of the two of them. They promised t hook me up with their easy friends that night. We exchanged numbers before they headed home and made plans to meet for a romp on the town.
In the meantime I made my way over to the cute crowd of girls at the other end of the pool bar. I inserted myself into their conversation by cigarette and immediately started a side conversation with the hottest one of the bunch. I’m sure she told me her name but I don’t recall what it was. All I can remember is that she was Lebanese and that she travelled all over the world frequently doing something or other for some American company that she was surprised I hadn’t heard of. She had never been to the states but desperately wanted to go to NYC. I think it’s every city person’s desire to travel to every other big city in the world. Mostly to compare and poke holes into why it isn’t as good as their own. I wasn’t really trying to “get with her” but just enjoyed the company. I would almost always rather speak to a hot woman than do just about anything else, even if there is no other action with them in the future. What wasn’t weird, though, was how well we hit it off. What was weird is the fact that I never once even thought about trying to make it into something else until her and her group decided to leave. At that point it was too late and I didn’t even make an attempt. I think this is because I already had plans with the Brits and even though Henry would probably frown on it but I really had a thing for Sam’s blue eyes and pierced tongue.
There was about four hours between myself and the start of the night with Henry and Sam so I took a nap at the bottom of the bed, fully clothed. I set my alarm for what I thought was three hours from the current time but realized when I awoke at 1am that it was for 3pm, which had already passed. I called Henry and apologized. It sounded as though he was at party and he said that when I didn’t call they decided not to g. I could hear Sam in the background say “Jooooooohn”. We made no plans for the next day but I had already decided I would call Sam instead.
*************************************************************************************
It started with a swim. After realizing that I slept straight through bar time, I fixed myself a whiskey and smoked a cigarette on the balcony as I stared into the sky while the sun began to rise. I had a full eight hours of sleep and had two options, sit around and internet until the sun came up and people started arriving or go for a night swim and watch the sun come up from the beach.
I packed up my music and headphones along with my camera, cigarettes and whiskey and headed to the beach. The hotel was empty and the front desk looked a little alarmed when they saw me walking to the beach. They scrambled to make themselves appear more professional and then offered assistance. I attempted to calm them with my insistence that I did not need anything. I never would have cut it as an officer in the military because I hate people doting over me. I want everyone to relax when I enter a room, not tense up and go to parade rest.
The air was much cooler than I expected it to be. The heat was so incredible the day before that I couldn’t keep the beads of sweat off of my book as I attempted to read (those 30 minutes in my drunken stupor by the pool, before giving up and hanging in the pool bar the rest of the afternoon). But there was a nice breeze this morning and the wind made it feel closer to San Diego weather. I snatched up a towel and headed to the chair closest to the Gulf. Not one person was on the beach with me that morning. This was a perfect opportunity to get some pictures of myself. I didn’t want to do this in the daytime and have people laughing at the friendless traveler taking pictures of himself. I positioned the camera on the top of my chair but it was angled and slipping off of the back. I used the towel to create a little pocket that the camera was able to stabilize in and set the 10 second timer. In total I took three pictures with the sailboat building (Burj al Arab) in the background. I found out later that these pictures are the reason that my friends at work thought I went away with some mysterious person. Apparently the towel caught a corner of one of the pictures and made people believe it was someone’s finger. They were “disappointed in me” when I told them it wasn’t. “I’m sorry for my utter lack of game guys”, I thought, as they all shook their heads at me in disproval. It wasn’t for a lack of effort.
I went up to the hotel room and fixed some more whiskey and took a shower. The intention was to go to the tallest building in the world (Burj Khalifa) but the more I drank and smoked and thought about the fact that it’s just a tall building I started contemplating other things to do. There was the Mall of the Emirates which has the indoor snowboarding and some other cool things. But a mall? I know it’s supposed to be off the charts or whatever but in the end… it’s still a fucking mall. Then there’s always this mall or that mall or this other mall. When you think of Dubai think MALLS, it’s what Dubai is about. Well, malls and hotels and I was already in a hotel. I showered and dressed anyway. “Fuck it”, I thought I’ll just knock this damn tall building off my list and get back to the pool bar lickity split., but then I saw some girls while smoking another cigarette on the balcony (I think I smoked like two packs in one weekend) and then I remembered the most beautiful girl I saw the day before in the elevator… and where was she going? Towards the damn pool. What was I thinking, trying to go anywhere? I kicked myself the day before for not just following her all creepy-like in the shadows and scaring her away with my bluntness and inappropriate attire. Instead I tried, unsuccessfully, to get into some brunch that wouldn’t let me in because I was in sandals (dress code for fucking brunch? How communist is that?) I thought of that elevator moment and decided “fuck a building or a stupid mall. I’m going to the beach and the pool bar and I’ll get some brunch right here with the beautiful women in my hotel, where they accept my shoeless sensibilities”
I grabbed the same setup from the morning but added my e-reader to the mix, grabbed a new towel and this time found a spot by the prettiest girls I spotted, not obvious at all either. Why is it so hard not to appear creepy when you are alone? I attempted to buy an alcoholic beverage but the man laughed and looked at his watch. Apparently, even on vacation, 8 am seems like an obscene time for a person to be drinking. I wished I drank more in the hotel room but thought it may interfere with my book reading anyway and tried to make myself feel happy about the alcohol tyranny that was oppressing my morning drinking. I sat and read and then waited five minutes before following the two French looking women out into the water. Totally not obvious or creepy at all.
It turns out they were Russian. They didn’t speak good English and I noticed myself speaking retarded trying to get them to understand what I was saying. I didn’t get either of their names but I did find out that it was one of their dreams to go to New York after I told them that this is where I was from. I’ve noticed that, in general, people’s eyes light up a bit out here when you say you are from New York and this was no different. Her eyes lit up a bit and she seemed a bit more interested me after I told her this. But ,as always, my big mouth just does not want me to be happy. I fucked up the excitement she had about that by telling her that I currently live in Kuwait. The stars in her eyes were covered by smog and soon after that they drifted away and I felt like a boy that dropped his ice cream on the ground.
While I was lying down and reading I caught one of the Russian girls taking a picture of me. Even though it did make me feel better about the situation, I couldn’t really figure out a way to turn the situation into anything other than it was. Since I am not a smooth talker I come up with these… schemes I guess you could call them to put myself in a position to make or further a conversation with a girl. Sometimes it’s something as easy as setting up close to them and “randomly” being close to each other in the water. Sometimes it’s something more elaborate like planning out a John Cusack speech about how breathtaking the women who spent the last 30 minutes sitting across from me on the F train is, just after I narrowly squeeze through the subway car door and run up to her, out-of-breath or course. Now that I think about it I wouldn’t really call it a “scheme” at all. For me, it’s just trying to put myself into a place to improvise something. Sometimes it works a little. Sometimes it works a lot. Creating the conversation is never my problem. It’s the rest I have trouble with. There are so many points after the initiation of conversation that could go awry. Sometimes I can’t figure out a way to ask a girl to hang out with me in another place at another time. Sometimes, I get them there but then I can’t figure out a way to sneak a kiss (notice I said sneak because there is never a natural kiss occurrence when it comes to me). Sometimes I get the kiss in but I can’t figure out a way to go further. And sometimes if somehow I did not scare her away with one dumb comment or another and we engage in the uniting of bodies in a dimly lit room, sometimes, and I hate to admit it but sometimes I just… well… I become this love-struck schoolgirl and start being all sappy and retarded and I scare her away with that. There are so many junctures in this act of woo-age that leave the possibility for failure open. And I’m not saying that I wanted to get to the school girl point with these two Russian girls. Chances are if we had gotten to the dimly lit room I would have been satisfied with it being what it was But I couldn’t even advance the dance. I need to “advance the dance baby, advance the dance”. There is a man in a seventies style, big collared shirt with chest hair, aviators, and bell bottoms telling me this in my head. I hate him.
The brunch started at 1230. I wanted to be there early so that I could drink like 1000 (no decimal point) mojitos and get to the pool bar soon after because that is where all the action was. I dressed myself nice to ensure entrance and headed to the local brunch spot, I think it was called Beachcombers. I have to admit I was prepared for what happened next but it still surprised me. I got there at exactly 1230 and told the pretty woman at the front desk that I was interested in the brunch special.
“How many sir?”
“One.”
“One sir?”, she looked confused.
“Yup, it’s just me”.
“For brunch sir? She donned a Cheshire cat when she asked this, like I was fucking with her.
“Yep, for brunch.”
“Where are your friends sir?”
“I came alone.”
“What about the people you came to Dubai with sir?”
“I came to Dubai alone. It’s just me”.
Only then did she shrug her shoulders, gather my silverware and tell me to sit wherever I’d like. I remained entirely positive through the whole exchange. HIMYM had an episode where this happened. when Lilly breaks up with Marshall, he tries to go to brunch alone and they laugh at him. I never even went to brunch until recently so I thought it was just an exaggeration but it wasn’t… at all. It really… really wasn’t. Throughout my time eating, reading and drinking mojito after mojito I had several servers and the manager come up to me and ask how things were okay. But not like “hey how is the brunch going?” okay. There was genuine concern in their voice like I just lost a relative or something. When I was in line at one of the buffet sections and the chef came up to me asked me how the food was and somehow found a way to tell me I needed a girlfriend and then kind of felt me up. I can’t pinpoint when or why she thought it was okay to do this in the buffet line but I guess a lonesome man at a brunch is just asking for it. She said that I needed a girlfriend as she did it and if I was even remotely attracted to this woman I probably wouldn’t have minded. But I wasn’t so I just smiled, backed away, grabbed more jasmine rice and sat back down. 1hr and 8 mojitos later when I was walking out the door and rapping to the cute hostess, the chef lingered around while I talked to this girl and I have to say, it really creeped me out. Man is that what us guys do to girls? I don’t like it, not one bit. It was time for the pool.
I saw the girls I exaggerated talking to for three hours (To be completely honest, I can never get a hold of the concept of time after I’ve reached a certain point of drunkenness) standing directly in the same spot they spent the entire day before standing when I arrived at the pool. I entered the pool and made a face of recognition at them but they seemed reluctant to meet my gaze. So I swam past and said something like “That must be your SPOT huh?” , to which I received a barely noticeable nod, as though she didn’t want to be seen talking to me (Oh my, I’m the creepy chef from the brunch). Feeling rejected I continued to swim to the other side of the pool bar and saddled up next to this German guy. He said he had been there for 14 days and not to worry about those girls because they had been there, in the same exact spot, for 14days straight and gave me a little wink. Which I took to mean they were “professionals”. I spent somewhere between 30 minutes and three hours attempting to chat up a professional, unsuccessfully. That was a little depressing but I shook it off and told the guy that I had no idea they were “those type of women”, to which he replied.
“What do you mean?”
“They’ve been here 14 days straight?”
“Yeah”.
“In that same spot?”
“Well then they are women who like to swim now aren’t they. I didn’t realize that they were those types of women… that like to swim so much.” I couldn’t bring myself to say prostitutes. For some reason that word seemed much too accurate to be allowed to say out in the open where the prostitutes swam. Maybe a word like professional would have been okay to say, but either way I think the real fear I had was that I would say it to him and he would be disgusted at the thought, that maybe these were nice women who just hung around a pool bar all day talking to anyone at all who swam their way to them and did nothing naughty for money at all. And they really did talk to anyone at all. As I sat there the rest of that afternoon I watched as guy after guy approached them and watched as they entertained them all in between trips to the bar for drinks. The cute one caught my eye at one point and I kind of frowned at her I think. I don’t believe I meant to. I meant it to be a smile but it ended up being the saddest smile in Dubai. That’s what the title of her prostitute memoir would be.
I did end up meeting and talking to some “real girls”… so I think, at the other end of the pool bar. They were from Switzerland and were only in town for the weekend on their way back home from Australia, which they had spent a year living and working. The brunette had a pretty face but was very reserved and did not seem very interested. Cynthia was the opposite. We spoke at length about our countries and how things were different and about her travels in Australia and then the three of us headed to the beach and grabbed some more drinks while we watched the sun set. I put my name into her phone so that could find me on facebook and we walked back towards the hotel when it was dark. They couldn’t stay out too late because their plane left early in the morning. Before I could even say anything Cynthia planted a kiss on my lips and bid farewell. Her friend kissed each of my cheek and also said goodbye. It was a small win but it felt nice.
I looked for bars in the hotel because there were supposed to be 20 restaurants and bars. I figured if I stayed local I may have a better shot because I felt comfortable there. All I found were shops with bored faces and one weird restaurant that was much more quiet than what I was looking for. I decided to go in and mess with one of these bored shopkeepers. The one I chose was this very skinny (as in the shop was skinny) women’s clothing shop that seemed almost like it was an afterthought, like maybe it was going to just be empty wall space but they figured they could make it into a store. The cashier was busy on her cell phone when I startled her.
“Are you bored?”
“No, I’m not bored."
“You look bored.”
“Why are you in here? This is a girl’s shop .”
“Sometimes I wear girl’s clothes.”
She looked at me with skepticism.
“No you don’t. Get out of here. Go .”
“But I want to talk to you. I love you.”
“I have a boyfriend. Why you bother me?”
“Because you looked bored. You should break up with him and we can make out.”
“Whatever. Get out of here? Where? Right here in the store?”
“Right there, in the dressing room”
The dressing room was just a curtain covering a space directly next to the register.”
She dismissed the idea and did what she could to usher me out of the store as quickly as possible but not before telling me that there is a shuttle that takes the hotel guests to the other onsite restaurants and how to get to these shuttles”.
I sat in the very front, next to the driver. The rest of the shuttle was populated by a more mature crowd. I told the driver to take me to where the pretty women go. He said he couldn’t that it was family oriented vehicle and that it wouldn’t be right.
“No no no. Take me to a club where they have pretty women?”
“Sir, this is not the taxi you want for that.”
“No no, I mean, where young people go out to party. Where do the…”
An old lady behind me asked what the problem was.
“He thinks that I want prostitutes but I just want to go to a place where there are normal young people hanging out".
There was an “ohhhhh” moment and the entire taxi full of elders smiled and nodded.
“Tell him to take you to the bars. There are lots of bars up here to the left”, then she shouted at the driver as though he were deaf, “Take him to the bars. Isn’t there a big one just up here?”
They dropped me off by a bridge leading over a canal system that looked like another planet to me. It didn’t resemble anything else I had seen in Dubai up to this point. It was like the clean underbelly of the city. Up on the surface things were dirty, people were like that of any other big city but here in the underbelly everything was pretty. The shops and bars were neatly stacked on top of each other like a well thought out Lego mansion. There were multiple Charon’s ferrying people to paradise instead of Hades. Everything was backwards. I walked around and at times felt invisible. The streets were empty but there was life inside these halls. I passed a few high end restaurants and no one even seemed to notice I was there. I found my way into, what I believe was an apartment building, where this giant genie bottle was and a man passed directly past me and up the stairs without any sort of acknowledgement that I was there. It made me think about what it would be like to live in this place though. You know how there is that world where the rich live that is very different than the common person’s… that was this place. I ended up finding a bar and ordering some more whiskey. I was the only person sitting at the bar and the bartenders were trying to figure me out. One asked if I was waiting for someone. I told him I wasn’t that I was here alone and that I was hoping for a place where I could meet people. He said that I shouldn’t stay at that bar, that it was dead but that there was a club nearby. I told him, about the club that Henry spoke about and asked if he knew where it was. Her didn’t but the host did, said there were lots of Brits there.
I walked outside looking for some bar that was close by but couldn’t find it. What I did find was a very stern face smoking a cigarette at a table by the water. I would have much rather asked a woman for one but I had been walking around and drinking so much at this point I didn’t care anymore. He gave me a cigarette and we sat in silence at the dark table while we smoked them. Before I finished mine he stood up and walked back in without saying a word. Normally smoking is an easy conversation maker. Not this time, it was the coldest smoke I’ve ever shared with a person.
I found a taxi that knew where this place was in a roundabout full of taxis. I walked through a hotel lobby and took the elevator up to another floor where there was a security guard waiting. He scanned me with a wand and let me into the bar. I felt at home. It was an Irish bar like every other Irish bar I’ve ever seen with the big pub stools and the cherry wood mahogany furniture and bar. But it wasn’t an Irish bar… it was English. They didn’t have Guinness but they had New Castle. I LOVE New Castle. This was the place I was looking for. While I was at the bar I decided to ask the first person to make eye contact with me if they knew Emma. Henry said that I should ask for her when I arrived and told me that she would like me. The first to make eye contact was a slim, tallish bloke with one of those Arabian scarves around his neck. He said no and asked me if I wanted a drink. I agreed and told him a New Castle. We smoked a cigarette together talking about where we were from and such and then he walked off. A girl in a cowboy hat said it was her birthday. I asked her if she knew Emma ad she did, but Emma was not there on this night. I bought her a birthday shot and she soon disappeared into the crowd as well.
I walked over towards the stage but not quite to the dance floor to watch the band. They were pretty good. There was a awkwardly cute female singer with striped thigh highs and a cute voice singing and everyone was sitting around, seemingly uninterested. I seemed to be the only one watching the band. When she finished her song she went off to the side and this white thuggish fellow came on and started singing some hip hop cover songs. All of the cover had a little reggae and some punk flair to them despite their original genre. They were good and the crowd started to liven up. Everyone was up and dancing… it appeared more like a mosh pit than a dance floor and thought it was kind of odd because of the type of music that was being played but then again, it did sound kind of punk…but then it hit me… a wave flashed through my body and the room began to close in a little. There were two guys dancing close to each other and next to them were two guys with their arms around each other. I looked around the room and there was no mistaking it: I was in a gay bar. The tall guy who bought me a beer came walked towards me and I asked him just to be sure.
“Is this a gay bar?”
“You’re not gay”, he said.
“No, no I’m not gay”.
He shrugged his shoulders and walked off. I decided I would finish my beer anyway. I didn’t want to run from the gays. That would be homophobic thus implying that I have a gay closet. I would sit and finish my beer as comfortably as possible. I went to the first table with a girl I saw and sat down. The man across smiled at me and I said loudly.
“I’m not gay. Sorry.”
He made a “yeah right” look at the girl at the table and then looked back towards the stage. I spoke to the girl.
“I didn’t know it was a gay bar. Did you know this was a gay bar?”
“Oh my god this is a gay bar?”, she said mockingly then grabbed, her friend “Did you know this was a gay bar?”, and then she bounced away.
I sat finishing my beer smirking a little Henry’s joke on me but also very disgusted by the man pulsating his crotch in my direction and calling me to the dance floor with his witch finger. I shook my hand and my head no but he kept pulsating and pointing anyway. I drank fast and got out of the bar faster. On my way out the security guard asked why I was leaving so fast. At that point it really did feel like I was running. I told him I wasn’t gay and he laughed and said repeated this to me. He was still laughing as the elevator door closed.
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