Then there’s Pacey, who never ceases to flatter and charm me. Yes, I know he’s not a real person, but I’ve spent most of my adolescence searching for my very own Pacey. Of course I haven’t found him, so I guess if you’re out there, Pacey-like-individual… I’m waiting… but not in a creepy, desperate way, more in an endearing, princess looking for her prince kind of way. Though, I’m sure saying this here is pretty pointless, as 99.9% of my readers are gay men. Shout out!
Besides the greasy hair and grotesque amounts of Dawson’s Creek, I’ve been having a fabulous summer. It all began in Vegas, where I rolled in style with my female family members. Vegas can really be summed up in a word: tacky.
Then I ventured over to Florida, to experience Disney World, and Miami. I wrote a blog when I got home, but never got around to posting it. So I’m going to insert it now….
Disney creates magic. So much palpable magic they can barely contain it within their Mickey shaped walls. Last year was my first ever venture into a Disney park…I was 21. Clearly my parents neglected my infantile needs. Needless to say, it was the most magical place ever. You really are unable to be unhappy in Disney Parks, and maybe this is a bad thing, or this is the best way to keep small children from lashing out at their parents. All you have to do when they’re having a temper tantrum is look at them sternly and suggest, “tommy, we’re at Disneyland, you’re NOT ALLOWED to be sad! Mickey mouse will come eat you if he sees those tears.” And that’s that. The kid shuts up, you laugh a little inside, everyone’s happy.
Now I had a few issues with Disney World. First of all, it’s too big. It’s the size of fucking Boston! You can’t walk from park to park because there’s an interstate connecting the two. Scratch that…I mean connecting the 4 parks and 2 water parks! I think Walt went a little crazy when making Disney World. Now I understand he wanted to make you feel like you’ve left reality and entered this inescapable world of bliss, but it’s just too much magic for any one person.
After we spent 4 days gallivanting across the great land mass they call Disney World, we ventured over to Miami. I had my skepticisms about Miami. I was certain I would feel completely inadequate aesthetically speaking. I envisioned a place where people never wear clothes, and all the women, with their incredibly perfect bodies, rollerblade around in pink bikinis and Oakley sunglasses. Sadly, I didn’t see a single bathing suit clad rollerblader, but I did see this man:
He had NO shame. His shame glad was clearly replaced with a second awesome gland, because to have the cahoonas to wear that tiny thong on the beach is something only a truly awesome person would do. I’m certain this man is a professional beach goer. He most likely worked as a financial planner for 40 some years, and was married with 3 kids, and loved his wife dearly. They had a 5 bedroom home in upstate Connecticut, and would spent summers at their cabin in the woods. One day, he woke up and discovered he wasn’t happy in this life. He packed his bags, abandoned his family, bought a thong and sought out a life of pleasure in Miami. He now spends his days on the beach and his nights at the clubs looking for a two-bit floozy. Meanwhile the wife and kids are struggling to stay afloat in Connecticut, where the wife works as a secretary and a waitress on the weekends. Soon though, she’ll meet another man, who her kids will hate, but she’ll adore. Eventually thonged man will realize his immoral life is becoming boring and return to the wife. At this point she’ll inform him that she’s in love with another man, and he’ll saunter off into the night, gaze up at the moon, and howl, “WHY ME!”. Cue credits.
The other thing I saw in Miami was homeless people. I’m forced to disagree that the homeless in Miami have it good, because I’m certain they’re crazier than the average homeless person. Most homeless males had wheelchairs to which they’d ride around and then sometimes find themselves in the middle of an intersection, not sure how they’d ended up there. Most of the time cars would just honk and drive around them, as if it were a daily occurrence. Eventually they’d wheel themselves out, but then, 10 minutes later, you could find them lost in the intersection once again.
The women were equally crazy and all carried around strollers and various child like paraphernalia. Often their stroller would get stuck somewhere and they’d growl and groan as they yanked it out. I’m bound to conclude that all this craziness is due to the weather. For the better part of the year it’s 30 plus degrees, and for the remainder of the year, it’s hurricane season. So either you’re being swept away by 400 mile an hour winds, or you’re intolerably hot and sweating uncontrollably.
I can attest too, that the heat makes you crazy, because at one point in our Disney adventure we’d come across a 34-degree day, and there was no escaping it. I couldn’t stop sweating, and that made me so angry and exasperated that I’d sweat more thinking about how angry I was. I almost started crying. It was a bad time in my life, but I’m certain it was all because of the heat. And it’s not a dry, can’t breath heat, it’s a humid heat where you’re always moist, whether you like it or not. Obviously the homeless have no escape from this heat, and I’m sure they’re equally as bothered as I was to be sweating. Plus at the end of the night I can go back to my air conditioned hotel room and take and nice shower, and they are forced to sleep in the sweat soaked clothes all night, and then wake up to find themselves lost in an intersection.
All in all it was a good time. Then I went to Sasquatch, kanye, and engaged in other various forms of crazed summer fun to which I’ll elaborate on later.
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