All and all I think working in the video store was an incredible experience. While I don't think I was homophobic before I worked there (I wouldn't have taken the job) but now I could put a friendly face to the 'love that dare not speak its name'.

I don't really consider myself tolerant because that suggests I tolerate homosexuals and that would misrepresent my feelings. I can honestly say that I trully do not care who is sexually attracted to whom. It means nothing to me at all- it isn't enlightenment or tolerance, its apathy.

There is one final story that I can remember from the store.

As I mentioned, I was relatively young and naive about the ways of the world when I moved to Chicago. The first time I saw a string of hookers lining the street on Broadway I couldn't believe it- I felt that, finally, I was seeing life.

A fellow came into the store and wanted to ask me for particular gay porn advice. Instead of explaining that I never watched it and would therefore have no opinion I tried my best at costumer service.

Customer: Yes, I'm looking for gay movie (read: porn) that involves water sports.
Misplaced: Hmmmm. Well all our gay porn is in that corner... water sports you say?
I have no idea what this means but I want to be helpful.
Misplaced: There is a video with a guy sitting in a swimming pool, that may be what your looking for.
Cusomer looks confused and goes to the porn corner
Reid: after I explained the exchange So you think water sports might be about playing Marco Polo or Volleyball in a pool?
Misplaced: "Perhaps- it might be a frolick of some sort in a pool"
Reid: Yea, no it means one person urinating on another"
Misplaced: Oh my

Now you may say:Midwest, quit living in the past, what does this little story have to do with today? Well, I'll tell you.

A few nights ago I was looking up stuff for our move and I came across a site that that was for people who have moved to Paris. From what I could gather it sounds as though these English speakers get togther a few times a month for dinner or picnics- basically its a chance to meet other expats. Since I am not a big fan of making friends I thought that I better extend myself and build a support network for those days that K- isn't talking to me. I signed up on-line, sent a picture and a brief introduction. After I became the newest member I began to realize that this group might actually be a singles club. This, in itself, is not bad but I thought my wife might take issue with it- she's funny that way. K- got a kick out of it and checked out the site. She informed me that it wasn't only a single place it looked as though it might be a a gay single site. That's what I get for trying to extend myself. But the point of this long, drawn out, sordid story is that if one of my new buddies emails me asking if I'd like ot join in their water sport activities in Paris I can say, with confidence, that... "No sir, I do not"

The post from last week got me thinking about the gay, pornagraphic video store where I workled- It's funny how stories that you've long since forgotten come flooding back all of a sudden.

I normally worked alone in the video store- it was small and there wasn’t unreasonable amounts of traffic. As with any job were you work costumer service there are always customers who are assholes. That’s just the nature of the beast. I see them now as I stand in line at the grocery stores or a gas station. Little people bitching at the cashier because of some minor inconvenience, usually something out of the cashiers control, like the fact that their coupons are expires, or the price of gas is going up. It used to piss me off, but now I see it for what it is- pathetic. These are people with absolutely no power- they are taking swings at someone who they know can’t swing back.

At Specialty Video and Audio I was once entrusted with doing the front window display- which, if you think about it, is a pretty major accomplishment. Its no Rosa Parks refusing to give up her seat on the bus-but when gay guys let the straight guy do the window display well, the times they are a changin'. I can say that I, too, have been to the mountain top and it's very tastefully done.

It was an important window display because two events collided in the gay community in a way not seen since Wham got together. First: The new Jeff Stryker porn video, Powertool, was due in any day. Second: Barbra Steisand’s, Color Me Barbra CD was coming out. So, as you can imagine, we were all a-tizzy. There was excitement in the air.

I hung the Barbra CD’s and movie’s on fishline so they appeared to be magically floating (if you were legally blind, otherwise they looked like they were hanging from fishing line.) and I used those peal off letter to spell her name at the front of the display. I wont say I was proud of this work- I actually would have forgotten the whole afternoon if there wasn’t an incident. There is always and incident. An hour after I had completed, a man came busting through the door. His face was red and he was livid. I quickly assessed the situation to see if I need to fake some Kung fu moves- but I recognized him as a regular who was always kind of rude to me.

“I can’t believe it!” he screamed at me. "She is a big enough star that one would think that even you could spell her name correctly."

I tried to remember my customer service manual chapter entitled "How To Handle An Irate Client" #1 Establish what the problem is.

"What the fuck are you going on about?" I queried

“You spelled Barbra’s name B-A-R-B-A-R-A”

I answered with a furrowed, confused brow

“It’s B-A-R-B-R-A.!!” He stammered- unable to control his rage.

He was steamed but you have to admire the loyalty he had to her, well…maybe you don’t.

You have heard the line “Absolute power corrupts absolutely” I know this to be true.

As the new Assistant Manager I wont say that I had absolute power at the gay video store, but when a limited number of Jeff Strikers "Powertool" hit the shop and the throng of gay man pleaded for a copy its safe to say I misused what little power I had. I kept all the copies behind the counter and would only rent it to the people I liked. He who controls the porn- controls BoysTown. When the irate Barbra Streisand spelling-bee champ asked for a copy I looked behind the counter pretending to search.

“…hmmm P, P, P, Powertool, P,...P as in People Who Need People? hmmm... Powertool, Powertool No, I don’t see it back here. Could you spell it for me”

Coming between a gay man and the new Jeff Stryker video is a dangerous game but I was young, reckless, had really nice hair and that's how close to the edge I rolled back in the day.

Most of the people I worked with were great guys. My musical tastes were effected enormously, Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Nina Simone- all the great women jazz singers where played in the shop- music I still listen to today.

I even got confortable enough with one of my workmates, Reid, to ask the question I've always wanted to ask.

"So Reid, really, how can you kiss a man? I mean.. the lips and face are all hard n' shit" I was 20 and literate like a mother- fucker.

Reid responded, "that's what makes it so great. I'll tell you, once in high school, I touched a girls breasts and it was like falling into something."

So there you have it, the main difference between gay and straight men.

After college I moved to Chicago to begin my adult life in the working world. I did not actually have a job. My major was in sociology and my grades were pretty bad but that didn’t get my spirits down, I knew that with my can do attitude and cursory knowledge of sociology I could land a fine job with many perks.

I began working at the gay video store about 3 weeks after moving to Chicago. The perks included free video rentals and since I didn’t have a VCR they also let me lug home the rental VCR which came in a huge plastic suitcase and weighed about 20 pounds.

Specialty Video and Audio wasn’t actually a gay video store- it was a video store that happen to also carry gay porn in a part of town called Boy’s Town, across from a bar called “The Closet” and a block over from another place called “The Manhole”…ok maybe it was a gay video store. Have I mentioned I’m not gay? I’m relatively thin, neat and I like (dare I say, adore?) musicals so every once in awhile I like to interject that I am, in fact, not gay.

I easily moved up the corporate ladder to become assistant manager…and no, you little perverts I did not sleep my way to the top, I didn’t have to- they could spot my can do attitude, problem solving skills and desperation for 25 cents more an hour.

Everyone else that worked at the video store was gay (we have established that I’m not gay, right?) and they gave me the endearing nickname of “Breeder”. It was a bit of a misnomer as I don’t recall doing much ‘breeding’ at all back then. I had not yet met a woman with a can do attitude that would allow me to prove my heterosexuality on a consistent basis.

The women that did come into the store were lesbian. A nice enough group when sober but a treacherous mob when coming out of The Closet on a friday night. It seemed that every friday night I had to listen to the same slurring lesbian and her lover angrily explain the problem with the “painfully obvious MAN produced girl on girl porn” that we rented. “It’th a beautiful thing.. two woman” one would belch at me as her girlfriend held her steady. They would rent “On Golden Blonde” and stagger out arm and arm.

As the Assistant Manager I probably should have defended our gay films (I was at this point calling them films and not movies) but the real life lesbians scared me. The ones that frequented The Closet were a rough and tumble bunch that were quick to fight when liquered up. I can only assume that kicking the ass of heterosexual male would make for a good story around the old lesbian campfire and my self esteem had been battered enough.