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homoeroticism , bad manners and the baldwin

my photo with Billy Baldwin

Yesterday was St. Patrick’s Day and for the first time in years I didn’t notice. Prior to becoming subearban, we lived in the heart of the Irish Ghetto, where on St. Pats, the entire neighborhood shuts down and the area fills with perennial Irishmen wandering the streets drunk with silly hats and “Fuck Me I’m Irish” t-shirts on.

The Olympic Wrestling try-out something another conference is in town – meaning approximately a hundred thousand people will be coming in and out of downtown for the next three days.

Chad’s work had a huge buy out for the National Wrestling Coaches Association and the Hard Rock’s coordinator there asked if we’d come help out and I take some promotional photos.

Over 600 coaches and their star performers from across the country came to the party. Kevin and I worked “the door” collecting tickets and putting arm bracelets on until it got full enough for me to run in and snap some photos off.

Now – it doesn’t take a psyche major to observe the homo-erotic nature of sports, especially college wrestling. Once the guests started getting cocktailed, I had to reality-check a few times to make sure I wasn’t standing at JJ’s Clubhouse. These wrestler types were a touchy bunch pawing eachother
with such ferocity and frequency that I GOT UNCOMFORTABLE… (*and I’m a fag).

So – you’ve got this level of touchy feeley interaction which you could buy if you were at a hetero-male retreat sensitivity workshop but these guys were all hyper-macho. As socially awkward as the groping was, so was the overt, rather tackless posturing. It’s was like,… “Here.. Let me touch your ass but I’ll speak loudly about the bitch with big tits I nailed last night and sexually harass the waitresses”.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any more surreal – I turned around to see this guy I thought I knew.. A little taler than me… Thin as rail, smoking a cigarette and talking with someone. It was Billy Baldwin.

Apparently Baldwin was a college wrestler and had come into town to speak to the coaches and make a few other appearances.

I’d never really stood within smacking distance of a celebrity before.

I was struck by how he carried himself. A way in which he almost became transparent. Upon close examination – he was a little haggard.tent event

I was content to watch rather than directly confront him for a photo or idle conversation. Once he got on stage he went into shit-head jock mode and got the already drunk crowd of coaches and athletes more wound up by chanting some college fight song.

By this time the staff was disgusted with the groups manners and discouraged because nobody was tipping. Chad was allowed to go early – us in tow.

I was probably the only person working who didn’t leave dissapointed. I got some photos, experienced something bizarre and got hit on by two coaches.

It’s all so not blog worthy.

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hair

hair priorities over the decades

Alright – so we’re back in St. Louis finally… The trip back was a long ass kicker – taking nearly two hours to break free from Chicago rush-hour.

Took the following day to relax, do laundry and swim through the many iPhoto dumps made during the excursion.

While anally labeling and time stamping the images I remembered an older archive scan from yesterdecade. I had promised Brenna (previous non-entry) that I wouldn’t share her stogie pic with the world, (for if I was maintaining a blog – then fair turnabout would be posting an equally embarrassing photo of Tony). The one I have on hand – drags me right into that ball of shame…

“Dr. Tony” and I were best mates back in those days. I can still remember the adolescent sense of freedom when we’d drive for countless hours, nowhere, with the windows rolled down in his mother’s flesh colored Doge Aspen. Aside from the moving landscape, the only sensory stimulation was the blaring Duran Duran B-Sides and the stench our combined overuse of Beneton Colorsâ„¢. (And how did only I wind up being the fag?)

T’s new woman has definitely put him through a type of finishing school – I assume the kind you get when you shack up with a dame with real class… but funny – every once in a while little “Tonyisms” still surface. We’re all really the same people we were in high school – just polished up some.

Oh yeah – and with a significantly less pronounced focus on hair.

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high-end grub

smooooooooth

Returned to the hotel, freshened up and jumped the brown-line to Tony’s neck of the woods.

I’ve been friends with Tony since age 15. When I start doing the math, I start feeling really old.

tony and brenna dinner

“Dr. Tony”, works as a management consultant despite his doctorate in chemical engineering at MIT – Though he enjoys a decent salary, he is starting to learn that “souled out” feeling that comes when you become a corporate cog. He’s not happy – and it shows between his words and in his eyes. I think he’s getting ready to break out – and make a change. I know whatever he’ll do – he’ll kick ass..

 

Tony lives with his girlfriend Brenna – who I had only met in passing before. What a great woman. Articulate, complex, intelligent, oh yeah – and AN AWSOME COOK.

Dinner continued to the patio out back and consumed pricey red wine, cigars and designer cigarettes.
Brenna really let her hair down – which was reassuring… It’s one thing to be pleasant and wonderful and put on a good act for your boyfriend’s odd out of town buddies – but to cut loose and carry on like one of the boys? – She’s genuine. I hope Tony gives her a ring… This one’s a keeper.

Geoffrey, not used to red wine, got schlitzed. We poured him into a cab and returned to the hotel. I promised him that nobody would ever find out about him hitting on the cab driver since I don’t blog.

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the film at 11… well.. more like 1am.

another touristy photo

We walked around downtown and found a place open late for dinner. Some chain called “Rock Bottom” – and it was great. (We try to avoid chains, but hey – their kitchen didn’t close until midnight and there isn’t one in St. Louis. so fuck it – we relaxed on the anti-mono-culture schtick and went in). If you have one of these near you – I highly recommend – it was the best damn food I’ve ever had in a franchise establishment.

We took the long way back to the hotel, walking along the river and taking it all in.

“Chicaaaago… Chicaaaago… My Kinda town”

Do you think that song was an early example of product placement by the hands of a travel and tourism board?

While I don’t really think it’s “my kinda town” – it sure is an interesting place to visit.
It’s a big, dirty, compact place. But that in and of itself is sorta exciting. I get the impulse to just crawl around and sniff out every little nook and cranny (of them – there’s thousands).

If you’re an architecture freak, this place is a candy store…. Not that I’m blogging about it or anything.