Get me OUTTA HERE!

So today, I bid a fond (and slightly tearful) farewell to Dad, and Baron von Philadelphia and I drove back up here to Jersey City. The Baron will be staying in my apartment and watching my dog whilst I'm at Inferno, doncha know.

I packed for Inferno, and did a great job. I think I should be able to fit my luggage and Diabolique's luggage easily into the Jeep Liberty. Then, we repaired to the great vietnamese restaurant which cubby introduced me to for dinner.

And then I had to go into NYC. To cash my unemployment check. Through the Holland Tunnel and then up Hudson Street.

And it felt so weird. So foreign. Not my city. Just... y'know... a city. Like a place I'm visiting. Like being in Seattle or Albuquerque or Boston or Atlanta. Only I know my way around. We parked (in front of the Archives, where Monica Lewinsky lives, and it's only the second time in my life that I found a spot available there). I deposited my unemployment check with no problem. Then, sensing that the Baron wanted to make something of a night of it, we headed to the Spiegel.

I stopped off and visited Bob from the Leatherman in their giftshop. So I could buy a hunter green hankie. That's to flag hunter green right, as in boy seeking Dad. Not sure if I'll have the testicular fortitude to actually do that, but now I have the option. Then up to the roof. The Baron expressed concern on the drive over that he wasn't appropriately dressed (red Tommy Hilfiger tee shirt, cargo shorts, grey suede walking boots) to go to a leather bar. I snorted. "We're not going to a leather bar. We're going to the Eagle. You're fine." And shore nuff, nobody batted an eye.

The Spiegel filled me with disdain. There is nothing I'll miss about NYC nightlife. Well... not entirely true. I ran saw a couple of guys that I always meant to hook up with, but now I probably wouldn't have the opportunity to do so. But no biggie. Now I'll have the Bike Stop at my disposal, and the Raven in New Hope is proving to be a treasure trove of vanilla sex.

It's completely different headspace. New York City is no longer my home. My home is in Carversville, Pennsylvania. Not far from the Delaware River. Thirty-two miles north of Philadelphia. An hour and fifteen minutes from the Holland Tunnel. That's where I live. The LURE is gone. Factory Cafe has been transformed into a sort of Greek diner. Espresso Bar where I met Special Guy is closed. In the span of just a few weeks, New York City has become a place I used to live.

The Baron points out that I'm ornery. Yeah. I went back to my city, and my city was gone. It's now a mall. No sex in the bars. No leather in the leather bars. Just aggravating traffic and bridge and tunnel crowds.

And then there's the place where I live. Where I can look up at night while I'm walking my dog and see the milky way. Where I can drive down into Philadelphia and go to a bar where men in leather hang out and smoke cigars. Where I can sit on the porch of the Starbucks in Doylestown and watch sweet boys drive up on their '55 Indians that they rebuilt themselves before I head to see an art house flick at the Country Theater. Where my brother introduced me to a restaurant with the best Thai food that I've ever had. Where the radio station I'm listening to, WXPN, plays all the music that I like. Where I swim in creeks. Where I meet sweet, simple boys in bars, follow their tail lights down dark country roads and have sex with them in 18th Century farmhouses.

My home. Just up the hill from Point Pleasant. Tollgate and Ferry Roads. Make a left at the stop sign, and I'm in the first house on the right after the fallow fields. Look for the screened porch in front and the apple and pear trees in the yard. How about that nice annual border I planted?

And, I'm anxious to get to Inferno. Another reason to be ornery.

At one point at the Spiegel, a boy who the Baron declared to be the hottest one in the joint came up and asked me for a light. I wasn't interested (no leather, no facial hair). But the Baron inquired how I would work it if I decided to hook up tonight, given the fact that this incredibly hot boy had just made it known that I could have him.

"Are you nuts?" I asked, "I'm about to spend a week whipping men. I think I can let any opportunity that presents itself go by for tonight."

And anyway, I do much better at home. Where I live. In Bucks County.

Oh. And welding school starts on September 22nd. Something to look forward to after Inferno when I get home.

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