Bad King Wencelas

Ah well. Didn't make it through the weekend without smokes. Bummed one off of Kevin and one off of Roy Friday night. Saturday had a moment of anxiety before volunteering and bought a pack. Smoked half of it. Had five yesterday. Today I’m a bit on edge, but I'm not totally at the beginning. This feels more like a day 3 of no smokes than a day 1.

Met Dawn pau hana Friday and went to Indigo's. We missed the pupus, so it only took two martinis for me to get a bit trashed. We met some guys from Istanbul, and talked with them most of the early evening. They were very handsome [I thought: Dawn said their eyes were too close together], and very straight. And I was a bad fag. A friend came over, and his eyes just lit up when he saw them. I didn't feel like being outed, and I definitely didn't feel like watching my friend slime all over these guys.

So I blocked access. The friend was all guttural noises, all hmmm and ohhh and oooh, as he tried to make eye contact with the Turks. And I pulled the butch act: yo, how you been? and all that, and made sure I kept my body between them.

Later hooked up with Kevin and Garret, hit a couple galleries, ate Vietnamese with Dawn, then headed home.

Saturday was surf, then my first Civil Defense activation for the City Lights festival. I told my friends I was working security. Hah. My job? Checking to make sure folks parking in the handicap lot really were handicapped.

It was excruciatingly boring. I was stuck in the parking garage for three hours. I was wondering how I got into this. Civil Defense Volunteer sounds sexy. And here it turns out we're nothing more than glorified crossing guards. I tried to tell myself that every roll is important, that we're all part of one system, that England expects every man to do his duty and that I was fulfilling my civic responsibilities and that this was a good thing - but honestly: I wasn't feeling it. It didn't help that there was a Scotsman playing bagpipes in the garage. And when he was joined by a friend life became downright painful.

This is surely one of the rings, if not of hell, then at least of purgatory: being stuck in an underground parking garage with perfect acoustics while two mad Scotsmen play Good King Wencelas on the bagpipe. You wonder if these people have any friends, or if they're like Trekkies - the only people who can handle them are others with the same fetish.

After our dinner break it was time to head outside and do some crowd control. This is more like it, I thought. We broke up into teams .. and I was assigned to the parking garage. Again. Only difference was this time I had a radio. I got to listen to all the excitement. We need back up on Alapa`i! We can't control the crowd on King Street! Get those chicos off of Kapi`olani! And there was trouble with the police, and there was trouble with the Department of Transportation. And everyone got an adrenalin rush but me.

Finally, at 8:15 - five hours after I arrived - I was summoned by radio to the surface. Oh joy. It was crowd controlling time! I finally got to have some fun! I didn't get to bust open any heads - I was more excuse me sir can you step back onto the sidewalk? than the more macho cops who just yelled at folks. I did get to help a lost child find his uncle, and that felt good. And I decided that I really did like this gig after all.