Pico-Robertson Orthodox Jew and Hollywood screenwriter Mr. Avrech had to wait 27 minutes for help at the Post Office.
A few paces behind me a flamboyant gay guy is on his cell phone yammering away to a, presumably, gay friend about, well, the fabulosity of gayness.
Gay guy is talking really loud and saying stuff like:
“It was sooo gay…”
“He was totally gay, he just didn’t realize it…”
“I used to be a clueless gay, but no more, darling…”
In-ter-esting: gayness, for some, is not just sexual orientation, not just a life style, but a religion.
I mention this because right behind Loud and Proud Gay Guy is a tiny, shriveled, ancient black lady who looks, I swear, like she’s about to have a coronary. Listening to gay guy is having a visible effect on her blood pressure. She closes her eyes, mumbles to herself, then turns and gazes pleadingly at an ENORMOUS black guy standing right behind her.
Enormous Black Guy looks like a gang-banger. He’s got the backwards baseball cap, the blinding bling around his neck, and masses of tattoos on his arms which are impossible to decipher because his skin is so black. It’s like one of those Malevich Black Square paintings.
Enormous Black Guy steps past Tiny Black Lady, gets right into the face of Loud and Proud Gay Guy.
Oh goody: conflict, drama.
“Yo, dude. Mah Aun-tie.”
Loud and Proud Gay Guy—thin as a stalk of wheat—finds himself face to face with a scary black guy who is, I do not exaggerate, the size of Rhode Island.
Loud and Proud Gay Guy into his phone:
“Sweetie, call you back.”
Enormous Black Guy nods, gets back in line behind his Aun-tie.
