Justin's Life... February 3rd - 16th, 1998

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February 3, 1998 - Tuesday


Today I played hookey. It was a pretty miserable day here in Los Angeles, raining heavily and blowing strong... and well, I just didn't feel like going to class. It's been a while since I skipped an entire day, but it was a much needed break.

I mean, I have Fridays and the weekend off, but it seems I'm always having to be somewhere sometime. Like this past weekend, I had to meet my research group Friday afternoon. I waited around then trekked to campus for our meeting. We talked all of 20 minutes, and that was stretching it. I haven't a clue as to why we couldn't have done the same thing on e-mail or over the phone. Yet still, I had to be there at 1:30PM.

Friday night, I had to head to La Jolla to meet back up with Larry and Katie.

Saturday I had to watch Truth Or Consequences N.M. for my film class. It was absolutely horrible. In fact, it was so offending that I would have turned it off not more than ten minutes into it if I hadn't been required to watch it for class.

Sunday I had to pack up my stuff and head back home to LA, then a big chunk of yesterday was spent trying to find a book for my film class which somehow or the other the USC bookstore didn't order enough copies of. I eventually found a copy at the Beverly Center.

I mean, I know it doesn't sound like I'm being bombarded with stuff, but it sure seems like it to me, and so, today was nice. Just taking it easy, not having to be anywhere at any specific time, and relishing the fact that I was doing something not quite "right."


For what it's worth, I sent Sean his plane ticket yesterday via overnight mail with nothing but a Post-It reading "Sean, See you at the gate. Justin" I didn't hear from him today confirming receipt, but the online tracking service said he got it.

Also, completely out of the blue, Jeff called. He and I talked for a while and seemed to connect there for a second, but then he went back into his shell. It's so infuriating, but I haven't a clue as to how to get him to be more like that person he was before law school started. As one guy wrote and said, "I guess what really caught my attention was the letter to Jeff about how you want him back in your life, but not as a body with no soul. At lunch that same day I'd had a long discussion with someone in my department about one of my friends, to whom I've sent countless of the same kind of letters (Right now, by the way, he and I are back on really good terms - - meaning he found his soul)." Unfortunately, Jeff still has his soul on loan to the UCLA law school.


February 6, 1998 - Friday


Guess what: I'm on a plane to Las Vegas! Wednesday night Larry and I were watching Vegas Vacation, last night at the gym Larry said, "I want to go to Vegas.", and now we're on a plane heading there! How koool is that!


The flight has been a bumpy one thus far, and as I'm sitting in the last seat on the plane (the last seat on the back row) I was privy to see the flight atendant dart into her seat and strap herself in about five minutes ago, no doubt in resonse to that recent flight where turbulence slammed passengers and flight attendents into the ceiling.


This is no doubt the bumpiest flight I've ever encountered.


February 7, 1998 - Saturday


Wow! What an event filled one day getaway.

After arriving at the Vegas airport and picking up the rental car, Larry and I got on the strip towards downtown. Our original plans were to stay at Fitzgerald's, an older hotel downtown which, for its lack of excess and glamour, makes up with its personal feel and gamblers with personalities. On the plane, I, however, saw an ad for the new Las Vegas Hiton's "Star Trek: The Experience" and suggested we check it out (in hopes that we'd stay there in some sort of futuristically styled room.)

Nevertheless, as we were driving down the strip, we passed Bally's and Larry said he'd stayed there before and really liked it: We should call them. So, he did, while I proceeded to complain about the lack of logic he was using. We'd thought Fitzgerald's because of the friendliness and low minimum bets, and I'd thought Hilton because of the Star Trek thing. Bally's had absolutely nothing unique about it. It wasn't themed, it wasn't glitzy, it was just another large hotel... but that's where Larry wanted to go, so we went.

After checking in, (a process I'm always a little hesitant about but which always goes down without a hitch: one king bed/two guys/the attendant gets the picture -- Not that it's really even the gay thing that gives me a slight lump in my throat... It's just that a stranger knows I'm part of an unmarried couple in the same bed. I'm sure it'd be the same if I were straight.). Anyway, after checking in, we headed to the room and Larry asked if I wanted to get tickets to see Rosie O'Donnell (who we saw was playing across the street at Caesar's Palace). I said that would be koool, but before he got a chance to call, I started looking through the "This week in Vegas" (or whatever it's called) magazine and found the entry for Rosie. $80 each. I don't think so. She's not that wonderful.

And so, I suggested we see Elayne Boosler instead. We saw her picture/billboard up at Harrah's and I knew from before that Larry said he knew her. Having said that to you, though, I should also say that of the famous people whose names I've recognized who Larry said he knew, I never met any of them. Cher supposedly knows him as the Grand La-Lar, but I've yet to even see that Christmas card from her (but I've yet to ask to see it either, for what it's worth.)

So, anyway, I said we should go see Elayne Boosler and Larry asked me to remind him where she was playing. I said Harrah's and he picked up the phone. The next think I knew, he was talking to the Harrah's operator:

"Is Elayne Boosler staying there? I'm a friend of hers."
"Elayne? It's Larry [Lastname]..."

She and he were having a good 'ole conversation. Larry held the phone away from his ear for part of the conversation so I could listen in, she even asked about Daisy. I was amazed and impressed. Amazed that he could get ahold of her without any problem: Anyone could have called and gotten right through. Impressed because when he did get through, she actually knew who he was... and knew him well enough to ask about his dog.

When Larry was done talking, he said she said she'd call right down and we'd have tickets waiting. Koool

An hour and a half later, we'd won a few hands at blackjack and arrived at Harrah's showroom entrance. There, Larry told the lady behind the counter that he needed to pick up two tickets. She looked through her box but was unable to find anything and so, she led us to the Maitre'd where she repeated Larry's name. The tuxedo clad Dominic (as his name tag read) on the other hand, immediately knew who we were and told his assistant to take us to table 204. Before we followed the assistant, though, Dominic said "If you'd like anything from the bar, you have to get it yourself, but just tell them that Dominic said he'd take care of it." Wow, I was impressed. To tell the truth, it felt just like a scene out of one of the mob type movies we've been watching for my film class.

Needless to say, as soon as the assistant had seated us, I darted out to the bar where I told the bartender I needed a bloody mary, a coke, and a pina colada... and that Dominic said he'd take care of it. He gave me the drinks, I said thanks, and that was that.


February 9, 1998 - Monday


Once the show was over, Larry headed towards the front of the auditorium and I followed him. Amazingly, no one questioned us as we walked behind the curtain and around to Elayne's dressing room.

Larry peered around the door and when she saw him, she said, "Hi!" She then introduced us to the three people from the hotel standing around her. Shortly, thereafter, they all left and for about the next five minutes, the three of us talked, mostly with Larry and she talking and me nodding in agreement. I did, however, manage to say how I was amazed that Larry just got right through to her room. She explained that not too many weirdos called, but if one did, it was easy enough to hang up the phone.

Before leaving to let her get ready for the next show (another occurred at 10PM), Larry asked the "bellboy" (who was bringing her a tray of neatly arranged cut fruit and about 10 mini Diet Cokes) if he'd take our picture. The flash didn't go off, so I knew the picture wouldn't be great, but as the hotel management people were waiting for her, Larry and I didn't say anything and headed back out front.


After leaving Harrah's, Larry and I headed downtown where we had dinner at Binion's. My T-bone steak, salad, coke, and desert, and his prime rib, salad, red wine and desert came to a grand total of $25 with the tip. It's amazing how cheap food in Vegas is... just to get you into the casino.

Now, speaking of money, usually, when Larry and I go to Vegas, he gives me $100 a day to gamble with. This time, however, I went to the ATM and got $300 of my own. Somewhere between arriving in Vegas and going to see Elayne, I said something about how Larry normally gave me $100 to lose but this time I was going to lose my own money. He must have thought I was fishing, and in turn gave $100. I responded that I wasn't asking for it, but put it in my pocket anyway.

So, anyway, after eating dinner, we headed to Fitzgerald's where I had a streak of bad luck. On our way out, Larry said he'd lost $80 and asked how I did. I said that I lost "less than twice that" and he proceeded to chastize me. He was actually reprimanding me for losing, like I had a real control over it and like he hadn't done the same to a lesser degree. I mean, the whole point of Vegas is to try to win money but knowing all the time that you probably won't. When I'd won before the show, that was fine, but when I left a table later in the night having lost, that was "bad." I got pissed and told him that it served no purpose to chastize me and instead just made me mad.

As if that wasn't bad enough, when the valet brought back the car and we started driving back to the hotel, he counted his money and said he only had $200 and something left. It was around 1:30AM. He only had to have enough money to last from when he woke up until when we left at 6PM. If what I'd lost was too much, how could $200+ not last him for a day? And then he said, "And that hundred you lost in there was mine." I hit the roof. The guy who makes more money in one year than most make in a decade was chastizing me for losing a hundred dollars and he dared to say that I lost his money. I got the other $100 bill I had in my wallet and threw it at him.

He threw it back and I threw it back. Eventually, he rolled down my window and through it out. I told him that I didn't care: I was not picking it up. He said it was mine and that he was going to drive off. I told him to go for it, and he did. Now, knowing fairly well that he wasn't going to leave $100 laying in the crosswalk and not really caring if he did, I sat in silence. He went to the next intersection then turned around, drove back to the crosswalk, and got out to get the money. He put it in his pocket and we drove back to hotel.

Definitely not going back to the room, I spitefully said I was going to go lose some more money and headed to the blackjack tables. I honestly don't remember if he came, too, or not. All I know is that later, around 3AM, I was back in the room by myself and ordered room service.

When the knock on the door came, Larry was right behind the waiter. I ate my club sandwich and went to bed, as far as I could get on the other side of the bed.


February 10, 1998 - Tuesday


Well, the next morning, knowing that Larry said he wanted to sleep late and wanting to go off by myself anyway, I quietly got dressed and left him a note which said I was going to the spa. Amazingly, just as I was walking to the door, a good ten or fifteen minutes after I'd initally gotten up, he started to wake up.

I stood motionless for a bit, thinking he would go back to sleep, and by all appearances he did... but when I opened the door, he darted up and asked where I was going (not in an interrogation, just asking). I said "downstairs" knowing that he would assume the casino and we talked about nothing in particular for a couple more minutes before I left the room.

For the next hour or so, I played around in the spa, moving from super hot hot tub, to the body temperature hot tub, to the steam room, and finally to the cold "hot" tub. Nothing too exciting went on... mostly just naked older guys with huge guts walking around.

When the "fun" of that had worn off, I got dressed and headed to the casino, looking for a five dollar table. I didn't immediately find one, but instead, found Larry. He was seated at a blackjack table, so I walked up behind him and he asked how much I'd lost that morning. His tone of voice and smile on his face weren't the chastizing ones from before, but I said "None" nonetheless and told him I went to the spa. His response was exactly as I'd anticipated; he'd wished I'd told him, that he'd have gone with me. Most likely (I don't remember), I said something about how I knew that. I went to the spa by myself partially because I wanted to go, but also partially because I knew he wanted to go. Know what I mean? It was my sophomoric way of getting back.

So, anyway, I sat down at the table and we played a couple hands... then Larry gave the dealer a hundred. When he did, he told me, "That's your hundred." or something pretty close to that. I responded "I hope you lose it all," in a biting voice and meant every word of it. We played a couple more hands, then he leaned over and said those magic six words. (No, I can't tell you what they were. I have to keep some things to myself.)

He was sorry. He'd realized the extent to which he'd been a total prick the day before. That's all it took... well, okay, I did get a few barbs in there for the rest of the morning, but basically, once he'd admitted and apologized for being so nasty, I forgave him and we were back to normal.

After gambling a little more there at the table, I became bored with blackjack and went to the roulette wheel. I'd read the in-room book about it while waiting for my club sandwich the night before, so I knew the basics of play. I played there for a while and Larry came over and played a bit too, with me showing him how the game went.

At around 1:15PM, a good while after Larry had left the table, I realized that checkout was impending, so I headed back to the room and quickly packed my stuff. By 1:45PM, I'd called Mom to tell her all that had happened and Larry was back in the room, having gone to the spa, and he packed his belongings as well.

And so, (since this thing is getting incredibly drawn out, and since I'm up at 5 (now 6) in the morning to finish it), the rest of the day went something like this:

2PMAfter I played "What if I were falling..." off the balcony one last time, Larry and I headed downstairs where we waited for the valet to bring the car and where I snapped this picture.
2:30PMBy 2:30PM, we'd arrived at the Las Vegas Hilton's Star Trek casino and got in line for the ride. Amazingly, while I was standing in line, Jason Marsden, (the new Eddie Munster, the same guy who was sitting behind me at Universal's theatres) came up and asked the people immediately behind me if it was indeed the line for the ride. I live in Hollywood. Of all the "famous" people for me to see, I see him TWICE... and in Vegas!... I was amazed.
3:15PMBy 3:15PM, I'd snapped a couple pictures of various Star Trek paraphanalia (for what reason, other than simply knowing that I wouldn't use the entire roll of 36 exposures, I do not know) and we'd gotten through the line and onto the ride. Except for the cheesy acting, it was pretty koool.
3:30PMWe ate at Quark's Bar. My pizza and Larry's sandwich were triangle shaped... oh yeah, and we had this drink the size of a goldfish bowl. It even bubbled smoke, so I took Larry's picture with it and he took mine.
4:15PMWe headed out of the casino and Larry snapped one final picture of me in front of the bar.
4:45PMWe arrived downtown for one more quick hand at blackjack. (Larry really likes downtown Vegas.) then headed to the airport to arrive at about 6PM for our 6:50PM.

6:40PMWalking down the jetway, I realized Sara Gilbert, Darlene from Roseanne, was walking right behind us. I didn't "look," even as we were standing in line for like five minutes together trying to board the plane, but I heard her talking to her travelling companion. It was definitely her.


Ok, boys, I've been writing and scanning for about an hour and a half now, trying, admittedly sometimes awkwardly, to write so that pictures coincide with sentences. Very speedily, since we got home: Sunday, I finished the roll of film by taking any ole picture and took it to Costco's 1-hour processing (so I could integrate the pictures here when I eventually had time to write). Most of the day, however, was spent at the library doing research. Amazingly, the computer system there is not integrated with the rest of the campus, so I needed physcial proof that I'm still enrolled to check out a book. I drove home then drove back, got the book, then found that the CD-ROM that I couldn't check out before wasn't helpful anyway.

Yesterday I about stressed out totally as I need an anotated bibliography by Wednesday for a paper which I'm not even sure I have a viable topic. I did go to class last night and manage to forget about that impending assignment... only to find that my partner there and I were supposed to have two films on which we wanted to do an oral compare/contrast presentation later in the semester. He and I managed to come up with a couple choices during break, which we are now restricted to, but I'm sure we could have come up with something better had we not forgotten/waited.

Today, I got up at 5AM to finish this thing and hopefully get a head start on that research. It's now 7:51AM and I really feel like just going back to bed. For what it's worth, I know the Vegas entry hasn't been the best gramatically. I mean, I know it has no real errors, but I know that it doesn't flow perfectly, especially when I started trying to put pictures in. Forgive me? *I need sleep chuckle*


February 13, 1998 - Friday


Since Warren and Selma (Larry's older friends from college. Also known as "Grandma" and "Grandpa".) are arriving for a three week visit later today and since Sean is supposedly coming tomorrow, last night Larry and I had our Valentine's Day dinner/date.

As opposed to last year, we weren't mad at each other... heck, we've actually been quite content as of late (well, ok, not for those 12 hours or so in Vegas but otherwise ). And so, as opposed to the cheap last minute K-mart chocolates last Valentine's Day, I bought him chocolates in a Tuxedo clad heart-shaped box from See's Candies, an expensive West coast only chain of candy makers... and a dozen long stem roses.

As I've said before, one of the main bad things about being in a live-together relationship is not having the thrill of dating. So, last night I wanted it to be a "date" as much as possible and did my best to re-create that. I knew Larry'd made reservations at a really nice (yet secret to me) restaurant for dinner. So before Larry came home, I got all gussied up in a t-shirt, button down shirt, tie, black jeans, and my cowboy boots and put my presents out of sight.

When he did arrive, he remarked about how cute I looked and I gave him the box of chocolates. While he was getting dressed, I gave him the roses. Neither of us could stop smiling.

About twenty minutes later, we were having dinner in a dimly lit restaurant called Cuchina. We talked about various things like my day of midterms and the three hours of Photoshop class and his workout at the gym... then just before we ordered dessert, Larry took his cell phone and dialed a number. He said something like, "Grant. Hi, this is Larry [Lastname]. Is it too late for you to come over tonight?" I was perplexed... and hugely smiling. What had he arranged? A stripper?! A red headed stripper?!?!?!?! Surely not... but he wouldn't tell. Talk about a smile I couldn't wipe off my face. All I got to hear was him giving directions to the house to some guy named Grant.

When we got home, Larry told me to put on a comfortable shirt. Still simling, I wanted to capture the moment, and so, ran downstairs to my computer and wrote:

Larry and I just finished our Valentine's Day dinner, but before we left the restaurant, he called someone named Grant and gave him directions to the house. He won't tell me who he is or what he looks like, but, well, if it's what I think it is... *blush*

All I do know is that I was wearing a tie for our date and he told me to get in a comfortable shirt once we got home. He DID tell Val, the nanny, what was happening, though, so that only makes me wonder more... perhaps a singing tele/stripagram?

I'll let you know... as believe me, I'm eagerly anticipating it myself.

When I got back upstairs, Larry told me to put on a pair of shorts, too.

Wanting to share the moment with you guys, I quickly searched the house for some film and was loading it in the camera as I heard a knock on the door.

Larry opened the door and in walked this guy who was about 6'2", 200 pounds, cute in a plain sort of way, and slightly balding with brunnette hair. He looked ok for everyday life, but he was not a stripper... or was he? Maybe he had some special talent. No... Wait, he had some large maroon case with him. "A clown, not in makeup?" was all I could think? Larry said something like, "He's first." and pointed to me. I was completely confused. A clown, not in make-up, was going to open up his maroon case to make a balloon art thing for me?! Then I realized, it was a folded massage table. Larry'd gotten me a massage. Needless to say, I was let down.

I sat in the kitchen, drinking a glass of ice water, waiting for Grant to set up his table in the living room. While he was doing that, Larry was dimming the lights, so I was still a little "curious" as to what was going to happen.

Pretty soon, Grant said he was going to wash his hands and I could get undressed and hop on the table, face down between the two sheets. Larry said something like, "You want him buck naked?" and Grant responded yes, but it was whatever I was comfortable with.

I had been thinking he was a stripper (and still wasn't 100% sure he wasn't) so I was feeling a little amourous. If he wasn't going to get naked (or even if he was, for that matter), I certainly could. So I took off my shorts and shirt and got between the sheets as Larry went back into the bedroom and Grant finished washing his hands.

When Grant came back into the living room, he folded the right side of the sheet back so that the entire side of my body was exposed. That, itself, was a little exciting. Knowing a perfect stranger was there, seeing part of my naked body... and then he started massaging my leg. He oiled his hands then proceeded to work around my calf then down to my foot. Wow!

Up and down my body he went. When he'd sufficiently massaged my leg, he moved up to my butt and pushed rythmically, kneading my butt cheek so hard that I wanted to yell in pain buy instead simply smiled. His hands went up my torso and back down to my foot. Oil was all over me and his hands just kept touching and rubbing me. The inner part of my leg, just below my knee, my lower back; the entire side of my body.

He then took my right arm which was hanging off the table by my head and put it on the table beside me. He went down to my forearm and then to my hand. As he gripped my hand with both of his and pushed his thumbs into my palm, it was like he was holding my hand in a way that I haven't felt in YEARS. The way two nervous teenagers touch each other's hands, wanting to express their feelings for one another, yet knowing that they have to keep silent. He put his fist in my hand while squeezing my lower arm with his other hand. Each squeeze would cause my finger muscles to contract and my hand would come up around his. He pulled my each of my fingers in a way that I couldn't not think it was more inhibited flirting than theraputic... even though I knew that was it's real purpose.

By the time he'd got to the other side, I was sufficiently aroused, but as I was face down, with my "stuff" against the table, nothing had arisen. With the left side of my body, he repeated the process. Oiling me up and down, taking my arm, playing with my hand... but by now, he was breathing much harder. I thought to myself that it took a lot of energy to do what he was doing, but I couldn't stop myself from thinking that it was the same sort of breathless had when being intensely intimate with someone.

Next, he pulled the sheet up to make a sort of tent and had me turn over. I was ok, though; nothing had gotten too excited, and so, he folded back the sheet again halving my body with the left half exposed.

I opened my eyes, breaking the "fantasy" twice as he wasn't staring at my body but instead looking off somewhere else. Yet when my eyes were closed, it readily came back. Laying face up, he moved my leg so that my knee was in the air and he was sitting on my foot. He pushed me over on my side, messaging my back and again my butt, then pulled my knee back up. He clasped his hands and ran the inner parts of his arms down my leg. From there, he extended my leg then moved on down the table to once again sit on my foot. He pulled my knee towards him and my backside came off the table as I was arched in the air.

Stuff was growing... not at full mast, but about 50%. And, before it deflated, he put the sheet back over the left side of my body. I knew he was going to remove the sheet from the right side of my body, and as luck would have it, "stuff" hadn't gotten hard enough to go up, but instead was directed towards the right side. If he folded back that sheet too far, it would be there, in full view.

Either seeing through the sheet that I was fluffed or by pure coincidence, Grant folded back the sheet, not revealing anything, and at the same time said "I've never seen a dog that snores." referring to Eugene. He hadn't said anything, other than "Are you doing ok?" before that, so I must wonder. Still, I relaxed and let him finish his massage.

He did the front right side then folded the sheet so that my upper body was exposed. He massaged my chest and neck. He cupped my head with one hand and pushed on the neck tendons with another. I must have been holding my head up myself because he said, "Let your head fall back into my hand." or something like that. Someone holding my head, rubbing me... wow!

When he was done, after rubbing my chest, he headed back in the kitchen to wash the oil off his hands and told me that I could get dressed. I could barely stand, but I put on the shorts and shirt and waited for him to come back in the room.

When he did, he rearranged the table and told Larry (who'd come back in the room somewhere around the hand/head deal) that he could get on, still in his clothes.

For about the next fifteen minutes, I took a shower to get the oil off me while Grant gave Larry a massage. When he was done, Larry asked him how much he owed and he said $60 for me and $10 for him. A dollar a minute for an incredibly sensual, relaxing experience and absolutely no guilty feelings afterwards. It sounded great to me.

So, anyway, Larry paid him, he packed his stuff, and left. I must admit, laying on the table with him rubbing all over me, there were times when I just wanted to grab him and make out like there was no tomorrow. When Larry came back into the room, I opened my eyes a lot more often. Once, Grant was massaging my back from the front, and said, "Fall back into my hands." I opened my eyes and his crotch was right in my face. He was, of course, clothed, but someone rubbing all over your body elicits very strong feelings. I, of course, resisted.


Well, like I wrote above, Sean is supposedly coming tomorrow. He did get the ticket last week just as Express Mail tracking said, but he didn't bother to call or write to let me know himself. That pissed me off to a degree: how apathetic can you be. I mean, I even phoned once and left a message with his roommate that "Justin called," thinking that even if he didn't get the message he would eventually call. It just seemed obvious: if someone spent the money to buy me a plane ticket and was having me at his house for a weekend, I would at least let him know that I got the ticket and re-check that everything with the trip was still a go.

So, anyway, after having not heard from him for two weeks and wondering if I should show up to the airport, Wednesday night I sent an e-mail:

Subject: Are you still coming...

So, are you still coming?


That was the complete text of the message. No, "I really hope you are..." or anything like that... 'cause fact of the matter is: I'm not investing myself in it much anyway. Either he shows tomorrow morning, or he doesn't. I don't quite see how he could be as apathetic (or seemingly apathetic) as he is about it... but that's the way the ball bounces. I mean, the next day he did write back to say:

Yes, I am still coming.  I have had Strep Throat all week so I haven't been here at school at all.  I am feeling better, but activities may be somewhat limited....and I may have to bring a bit of homework...but I'll see you at the gate on Saturday!!


But why didn't he write back before I asked? Reading that, and the other letters, you would think that he's looking forward to coming. Not hearing from him for two weeks, even after he got the ticket, you'd think he wasn't coming. I hope he comes here and it's a case of words speaking louder than actions. I know that's not the way things normally go, but I'm hoping (albeit with nothing near baited breathe) nonetheless.

For what it's worth, I'm not uploading this entry until tomorrow. I don't want him to read it, if he is reading the diary, and think his company in unwanted. His company is wanted: His apathy is not.


February 16, 1998 - Monday


Well, my plan was to pick Sean up from the airport then go to Knott's Berry Amusment Park. I wanted to have a sort of buffer there whereby I could acclimate Sean to the new surrounding and where I could get any gaga-ness out of the way before having it "thrown in Larry's face." That was the plan... but due to the apathy of Sean before arriving and due to the fact that it was raining, I didn't really think the buffer was any longer necessary or plausible. That said, I called Knott's Berry on the way to the airport and was told by the operator that all the rides were operating, that they only closed down three of the rides (which he listed) during heavy rain, and that the current rain was medium.

So, anyway, I went to the airport and waited at the gate. At around 9:40AM, the plane pulled in, and I must admit, my heart quickened. As I watched the people walk off the plane, I kept referencing in my mind the pictures I'd taken on Larry's and my cross-country trip through Utah. They were sepia-toned and none contained a great face shot, but they still prompted me enough to think I could recognize him... and I did, even though he looked slightly older and was wearing a cap.

As the two of us walked through the airport to baggage claim, we talked about various things, like the way he'd been up all night just to make sure he didn't miss the early morning flight and how I could tell it was a plane from Utah just by the passengers. By the time we'd gotten to baggage claim, I'd noticed his hair was brown where it came out from under his cap and when I took the cap off, it was home-brew bleached blonde with brown roots. Nevertheless, he had amazingly striking blue eyes, red eyebrows, and a somewhat golden (i.e. red head's) skin tone... so I threw in a jab/flirt pretty often.

Sean didn't flirt back much, really, but when we were waiting for his bag to arrive and I told him that the original plan was Knott's Berry, he suggested we still go. The rain (and his recent bout with strep throat) didn't seem to be a determent.


After calling Larry to let him know the plan was Knott's Berry, Sean and I went to the car. Driving through the rain, we slowly got across town then onto the five freeway towards Orange County. Click here to move on to the next set of entries.

© 1998 Justin Clouse


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