Band Fags! (35 page)

Jamie Good did a “good” job as Rizzo—I'll be using that in my review—and Audrey was spot-on as Didi Conn, I mean Frenchy. You could totally tell she's seen the movie almost as much as I have. Though the colored spray she used on her hair during “Beauty School Drop Out” didn't look quite pink enough. And Brad surprised me with his rendition of “Magic Changes,” which is only in the movie as a Sha Na Na song in the background at the Dance Off. I hadn't heard him sing since
Okla-homo!
back in 10
^th
grade and his voice has really improved. Maybe he
does
have a shot at making it on Broadway someday.

But the real Star of the Show had to be Senior Liza Larson as Sandy Dumbrowski. Being a self-proclaimed Burn-Out, she normally wears her hair kind of curled and feathered-back on the sides or all ratted up. But when she made her entrance, all decked out in a pink poodle skirt with her bleached blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, Liza was a dead ringer for Olivia Newton-John. Without her signature spider eyebrow-penciled in the corner of her eye, I almost didn't recognize her. And when she sang “It's Raining on Prom Night,” which is also only in the movie as a background song at The Frosty Palace, she totally brought the house down.

Once the final curtain closed and the lights came up, the crowd began gathering down by the stage in anticipation of the actors making their entrance. The last thing I needed was to be faced with the likes of Joey Palladino, Brad Dayton, Ava Reese, and Audrey Wojczek. Which is why I wanted to get the Hell out of there! Though I would've liked to have told Jamie Good what a “good” job I thought she did, it could wait till Monday.

“Where to now?”

It was Betsy's turn to drive so I slipped into the passenger seat of the silver Vega, taking note how low to the ground it felt compared to my pea green Omni. “You wanna stop at EB's and grab a bite on our way home?” I suggested.

Which brings us back to Square One. Jack and Betsy avoiding the Drama Queers over Slim Jims at Elias Brothers' Big Boy…

“You think he's a fag?” Betsy asks when the entire
Grease
gang passes by our table—without saying a word—en route to the Salad Bar.

“Who?” I wonder. She could be talking about either Brad, Joey, or even Little Richie Tyler who just joined them a minute ago. Remember the faggy little 7
^th
grader from Webb who played flute in Prep Band and carried his books like a girl? I can't even believe Brad is hanging out with him after all these years…What's up with that?!

“Joey Palladino,” Betsy replies, blatantly looking over at the Boy in Question.

“He's got a girlfriend,” I remind her. As in my ex, Diane Thompson, who must have arrived with Richie and is clinging to Joey as we speak.

“So what?” Betsy replies, mouth full of ham and Swiss. “My Uncle Dave's a Detroit Cop…He busted a bunch of underage kids from Hazel Park down at some gay bar on Woodward and 6 Mile. He says one of them was named Joey and the other one Brad.”

I'm thinking,
Interesting…
I wonder how come I haven't heard this? But I say, “So…Just because they were at a gay bar doesn't make them fags.”

“Oh, come on!” Betsy scowls. “Why the Hell would they go to a gay bar if they're not?”

“I don't know…” Then for whatever reason, I decide to go for it. “I've been to that exact same bar before and
I'm
not…” Then I trail off.

Betsy looks at me a moment. She sips her Diet Coke, says nothing.

“What?” I ask, getting the feeling Something Wicked is This Way Coming.

“I never told you what Tom said, did I?” she says.

I'm thinking,
Oh, shit!
But I play innocent. “About…?”

“About you.”

What I've yet to mention is what else happened when Tom spent the night at my house back on New Year's Eve…

After he woke up in the middle of the night and found me fondling his bare back, what else could I say? Nothing. I couldn't even defend myself had I wanted to on account of I had a Total Breakdown. I started crying and carrying on and apologizing. Talk about embarrassing!

“Dude!” Tom said, a little aggravated. “What's wrong with you?”

“I don't know anymore,” I cried. Literally. “I just feel…” Then I trailed off. All I wanted was for Tom to wrap his arms around me and hold me and tell me everything would be okay.

Instead he said, “What the fuck is your problem?” From the way he raised his voice, I could tell Tom was getting pissed. To be honest, I think he knew what I was trying to say—and I don't think he liked it. “Don't even tell me you're a fag…Are you?”

If I said “No,” I'd be lying. If I said “Yes,” and told Tom that not only did I think I
might
be gay, I also
might
be in love with him, he'd walk out the door never to return. Not to mention the fact that he'd tell all the guys at school what happened and they'd finally have the satisfaction of knowing what they'd been saying about me for years was 100 percent True.

So all I said was, “I'm sorry.”

To which he informed me, “I gotta go.” Though I couldn't help but notice he didn't look at me when he spoke.

“What about the game?” I mumbled. We'd made plans to hang out on New Year's Day and watch Michigan State in the Rose Bowl on TV.

I watched as Tom found his shirt where he left it wadded up in a ball on the floor. Slipping it on, he didn't even take time to button it…Nor did he say a word.

I suggested, “Maybe we can go to the movies tomorrow night.”
Throw Momma from the Train
had just come out a few weeks before and we'd been talking about seeing it. Tom loves Billy Crystal. Then I added, “Call me?”

But he never did.

When I broke down and later called him myself, Tom's Dad informed me he wasn't home. The first two times. By the third, I heard his Mom in the background say, “You're being rude,” forcing him to take my call.

And would you like to know what he said when I finally spoke to him?

“You know, all my friends told me not to hang out with you 'cause you're a fag…But I stood up for you. And you totally let me down.”

And he was right…How could I have done such a thing?

Back at Big Boy's on
Grease
Opening Night…

“What exactly did Tom say about me?” I ask Betsy, who pretty much reiterates everything I've just mentioned. Which prompts me to wonder, “What did you say when he told you that?”

“I told him to shut the fuck up,” she scoffs, all Bad Ass. “Then I broke up with him.”

So that's the reason!
I had no idea.

“Nobody makes up shit about my friend and gets away with it,” Betsy Sheffield declares with conviction. “I don't care if he's the hottest guy at Hillbilly High or not.” Then she adds, “He wasn't a very good kisser, anyways.”

I'm thinking,
Too bad I'll never find out.

If I play my cards right, I might be having S-E-X…With a G-I-R-L.

Who would've believed it, right? Jack Paterno, ex-Band Fag—and probable Real Fag—is about to get laid for the first time in his 17-going-on-18-year-old life. Though isn't that what Max and I set out to do as we embarked on our Spring Break '88 Florida Adventure?

First stop Winter Haven…

We arrived five days ago on Good Friday, April 1st. My Grandpa Guff picked me and “Matt” up at the airport and brought us back to stay with him for the first few days. I didn't have the heart to tell him my friend's name is
Max.

Not a whole lot was going on in terms of what you might call “action” at the old Hammondell Campground…

“Hey, listen to this…” Max tapped me on the shoulder. We were lying side by side by the deserted pool. Which was pretty nice for a trailer park. Though I can't imagine the Senior Citizens getting much use out of it. Nor did I want to see a bunch of Old People in bathing suits!

I opened my eyes, squinting. Max took off his headphones and held them out to me. From the two gray sponges connected by thin metal wire, I could hear the tinny sound of something melodic…

I can't say I recognized the voice. “Who is it?” I asked. More out of politeness than actual interest.

Max replied, “Dude! It's The Smiths.” As if I should've known. “Don't you love the way Morrissey says, ‘Pee-eh-noh?'”

I asked, “Who's Morrissey?” Then I rolled over onto my stomach.

Max and I agreed we wanted to look our best by the time we hit the beach later in the week, so we'd been working on our tans every day from 10:00 AM to 2:00 PM. “For the ladies,” as Max so eloquently put it. Little does Poor Max know that I've recently had my heart broken—by a guy!

I only hope we don't run into Tom Fulton and all his Jock Jerk Friends while we're here in Daytona…

“You ready to par-tay?”

We arrived this morning after driving almost two hours in my Grandpa Guff's pickup truck—complete with cab on the back. Max and I met up with Jamie Good, Shellee Findlay, and Betsy Sheffield at their hotel and we spent the day with them hanging out at the beach. Talk about crazy! I've never seen so many half-naked and totally hot guys running around in one place. It's taken all I've got in me not to get too excited, if you know what I mean.

Around 8:00 PM, we showered, got dressed, and were just about to head out. God only knows where! I put on my red shorts and new white T-shirt with red SPEEDO across the chest that I got on sale at Hudson's in Lakeside Mall, so I figured it had to be cool.

“Cool shirt,” Betsy confirmed when we met her downstairs in the hotel lobby. Sporting a navy blue and white horizontally striped, long baggy shirt over matching navy shorts, she looked as cute as could be. Especially with her hair pulled up in a ponytail.

We found Jamie and Shellee out front talking with some dudes I'd never seen before. “You guys are Cheerleaders?” I heard one of them ask, obviously clued in by Jamie's and Shellee's matching oversized
Cheerleader
T-Shirts. “Where you from?”

“Hazel Park,” Shellee told him.

“Where's that?” You could tell just by the way this guy had his hair cut—short and buzzed on the sides—he's a Total Jock. He also had no neck.

“Near Detroit,” answered Jamie.

No Neck's friend looked puzzled for a moment. “Dee-troit's in Ohio, right?”

“Yeah…Ohio,” Shellee replied. Then she noticed me and Max standing with Betsy. “Oh, look…Our boyfriends are here. We gotta go.”

And off we went!

I imagine Daytona Beach to be pretty much dead most of the year. But during Spring Break, a Sea of Teens floods the street, parading up and down and up and down Highway A1A. Better known as “The Strip.”

“Where are we going?” I asked, trying not to sound too whiny. I'll admit, I felt a bit overwhelmed traveling from hotel to hotel looking for The Party.

“Following her,” Max replied, tongue hanging out of his mouth as some Blond Bimbo in an itsy-bitsy pink and white polka-dot bikini passed us by. Like I've said, Max was bound and determined to lose It on this trip. By which I mean his Virginity. And in what better place than among hundreds of Horny Teenagers?

“Hey, you Guys…In here!”

We stopped off for a moment at some Cheap Motel. You know, the kind where the entrance to the room leads right out into the parking lot. Forget about there being any kind of lobby or even an ice machine. At Check Out, you walk up to some guy in a tiny little room behind a door marked OFFICE and pay your bill—most likely with cash.

Max and I found ourselves surrounded by a group of kids neither of us knew from anywhere. Most of them had slight Southern accents and I heard somebody say something about Tennessee—or was it Texas? Somewhere starting with T. To be honest, I'd already had two beers back at our hotel and was feeling a little tipsy.

“Dude!” Max said to the totally wasted looking guy who beckoned us in. “Wha's up?”

“Nada, Dude…” And with that, Wasted Guy handed us both a can of Bud and said, “Party on!” He kind of reminded me of the guy who played Johnny in
Karate Kid, Part II.
You know who I'm talking about? He was also in that movie
Just One of the Guys
as Greg Tolan. Kind of good-looking and muscle-bound, but like No Neck and Friend from before, not too bright…Why is it that all the hottest guys seem sooo stupid?

“Thanks,” I replied, accepting Wasted Guy's offer. Then I popped open my beer, only to have it explode right in my face. Foam shot out across the room, drenching the girl standing next to me.

She let out a squeal. “You idiot!”

Wasted Guy started laughing his head off like it was the funniest thing he ever saw. Then he slinked away.

“Sorry,” I said to the girl, looking for a napkin or something to assist her. Coming up empty-handed, I watched as she wiped at the wet spot on her extremely tight white tank top, barely concealing a pair of incredibly large breasts.

“'s all right,” she replied in her slight trace of a Southern accent. “Not your fault, Sugar.” Then she smiled, batting her Baby Blues.

If I didn't know better, I'd have thought this very pretty Southern Belle was flirting with me. But that couldn't possibly be the case. I mean this girl looked like a model. I'm talking 35-25-35. Long blond hair, nice legs…and thin! She kind of reminded me of Miss USA/Universe 1980, Shawn Weatherly. Remember her? She later went on to have a career as an actress in such hits as
Cannonball Run II
and
Police Academy 3: Back in Training.

Max whispered in my ear, “Go for it, Dude…” And with that, he slinked away.

“So…What's your name?” The Shawn Weatherly look-alike asked me. Her breath smelled of alcohol and I got the impression she was probably already inebriated.

I told her, “Jack.” Then I asked, “What's yours?”

To which she answered, “Gwendy.” Though I could barely hear her over the roar of the crowd.

I said, “Wendy?”

She said, “No…Gwendy, with a G.”

Turns out, Gwendy—short for Gwendolyn—was also 17, and a Senior from Austin, “Tayx-sis.” A Cheerleader, she also played Girls Volleyball. She also made it perfectly clear she didn't have a boyfriend.

“What about you?” she asked.

“Do I have a boyfriend?” I replied, thinking,
She thinks I'm a fag!

“No, Sugar…I meant, do you have a
girl
friend?” Gwendy reached out and tweaked my nose with her finger. “You're cute…You must be very Popular back where you come from.”

I assured her, I did not have a girlfriend. Though I avoided her question pertaining to my level of Popularity in the World that is Hillbilly High. Then I decided, “I should probably go find my friend.”

With that, Gwendy linked her arm in mine. “Wait for me.” Then we slinked away.

It appeared that Max had also made himself a new friend. In the corner of the room, Gwendy and I found him surrounded by a circle of Gwendy's classmates—literally.

“Dude…Here's what you're gonna do.” The practical joker known as Wasted Guy, aka Johnny from
Karate Kid, Part II,
stood in the center of the group. In one hand he held an extremely large funnel attached to a long plastic hose. “You're gonna get down on your knees…”

Max nodded, glassy-eyed. “Uh-huh.”

“You're gonna put this hose up to your mouth…”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then you're gonna tilt your head back…And suck.”

“Gotcha.”

Max followed Wasted Guy's instructions to the best of his drunken ability. He got down on his knees and took the end of the hose into his mouth. Meanwhile, Wasted Guy cracked open a can of PBR and poured it into the funnel. The crowd began to chant, “Suck, suck, suck!” Down the hose went the hops as Max inhaled for dear life. In a matter of seconds, he stood up, belched, the beer completely gone.

“Dude!” he exclaimed when he saw me standing nearby. “I did it…I bonged my first beer.” Then he puked all over the orange shag carpet.

You'd think the stench of regurgitated pilsner mixed with Taco Bell would promptly clear the room. But nobody even noticed. They just passed the bong along to the Next Victim and continued to Party On!

Me, I played my part as Max's Sole Friend and led him outside. I figured the cool ocean breeze would do him some good and had no idea what happened to Jamie, Shellee, and Betsy after we found ourselves Deep in the Heart of Tayx-sis.

“Sit here,” I said, indicating the yellow cement parking block at our feet.

Max followed my orders. Then he placed his head between his legs and let out a groan. “Sorry, Dude…I always puke whenever I smoke pot.”

Even though I totally disapproved of Max's getting high, I told him, “Don't worry about it, Dude…I won't tell anybody you ralphed.”

“We should get him somethin' to drink,” Gwendy advised. “There's a 7-Eleven over on the corner.”

For the entire walk across the street, Gwendy held my hand. Almost every single guy we passed did a double take. I could tell they were all thinking,
What the Hell is the Babe doing with the Fag?
Little did they realize, the Babe was totally wasted and once she sobered up, she'd be thinking the exact same thing.

One of the things I've noticed about Florida is…nobody here wears shoes. Not even when they go into a public place like 7-Eleven. Back in Michigan, that would never fly. Nobody would dare walk barefoot into Farmer Jack's, just because they didn't feel like stopping to put on their sandals! You know what I'm saying?

We found some Gatorade. I doubted Max would like it. He only ever drinks Pepsi. But Gwendy assured me it would help. Standing at the register, I took some money out to pay for it.

“And a pack of Virginia Slim Ultra Light Menthols, Sugar,” Gwendy said to the clerk behind the counter. Though I don't think he heard her at first on account of he was too busy staring at her tits.

Just my luck…Finally, a beautiful girl—albeit a wasted one—takes an interest in me and she's a smoker! It's all I can do not to gag the minute we stepped back into the night air and she lit one up. Again, she took my hand and led me across Highway A1A, back to what I discovered was the Thunderbird Beach Motel.

Where Max was nowhere to be found…

Luckily, when we asked some of Gwendy's friends if they'd seen him, they informed us that Max decided to head back to our hotel. I had no idea how he was going to get into Jamie and Shellee and Betsy's room. But that wasn't my problem.

Which leads me back to the point where I started…The part where I'm about to have sex with a girl.

“You wanna take a walk on the beach?” Gwendy asks me now. “It's a gorgeous night…”

I have to agree: 75°, a gentle breeze, the moon shining down upon us. Very romantic. Like something you'd see in a movie or on TV. “Sure,” I say.

When I take Gwendy's hand, she pauses. “I could use another drink…Can we stop by my car first?”

I'm thinking,
Anything to keep her from sobering up and changing her mind.
Though I have no idea where this whole thing is really heading. And what happens if she really
does
wanna have sex with me? I mean, yes, there is a condom pressing a nice ring into the leather of my wallet. But in all honesty, I don't know the first thing about having sex. Especially with a girl!

I mean, I've seen movies and all. By which I mean porno. Tom and I once borrowed a video from my Uncle Roy back when we first started hanging out together. He came over one Monday night to watch our new favorite TV show,
ALF.
Who also happens to be our Senior Class Mascot. Afterwards, we got to talking about porno. Next thing I know, we're watching some movie called
Teenage Games
with some totally tan, totally muscular blond guy named François Papillion, with a butterfly tattoo on his ass. Sure, I had no problem getting excited watching the video. That François guy was hot! But what if I can't get it up when it comes time to do It with Gwendy?