I’m standing outside – what I guess is – a very cool electro straight club and it’s 0330 in the morning and I’m talking to the guy who's sorting out the taxis. And I tell him where I want to go and he quotes me $27 and I say that’s cool. I’m wearing skinny jeans and white plimsolls and a loose cut vest that’s hardly there and I wore this because in a straight club you can’t take your top off but I knew it was gonna get really hot and sweaty so I put this on to stay cool.
Then this group of guys and a girl also comes out of the club and the girl is kinda blonde and trashy and the guys are oh so hip and one of them is wearing green skinny jeans and they’re all wearing 2009 deck shoes and white socks and check shirts and they all look a bit Dazed & Confused, or is it Another Man, I don’t know what the style magazines are called these days.
And the girl is staring at me and kinda looking to make conversation and I chat to her for a bit. Then one of the guys – who’s really drunk at this point – puts on a pair of thick-framed, geeky glasses (following all the fashion rules for the fashion people) and he started talking trying to be amusing but mostly being facetious and he says: are you a cyclist, do you cycle places? This is as witty as he can be at this hour looking like (if we were in London) an East London twat. I look at him llike he’s not not making any sense at all and comment to the girl, who’s more sober, that her friend is very funny although not really. Like you would talk to someone who you’ve built a rapport with when their friend is very drunk.
Then the East London guy pokes me in the chest and says you don’t cycle anywhere, do you, you think you’re too hot to cycle anywhere. Turning aggressive perhaps because I’m wearing a top that shows that I go to the gym and I’m not playing his game. The girl looks blank, like this isn’t happening, I ask him why he’s being rude, even though I know really, I can see the chip on his shoulder from where I’m stood, then they walk off.
Waiting for the taxi still, a different guy and a girl duo walk up to the taxi guy and ask him how much it is to go to ___, the taxi guy quotes them $25, I hear that and ask him why they’re paying $2 less when their destination is further than mine. The guy looks all confused, take a look at his map, his list of destinations, his prices, and apologises for making this mistake. Everyone pretends he’s not making up the prices anyway, then the new guy and girl duo decide to share a taxi, since my place is on the way to theirs.
It turns out that these guys are a brother / sister double act, and they’re nice enough and we spend the 25-minutes journey chatting. During this 25-minute journey the following things happen:
- I take my phone and start playing on facebook
- The sister sees my phone and asks me which guy I’m texting
- I ask the sister why she assumes that I’m gay, is it my outfit or what
- The girl says that no, it’s not my outfit, it’s just that I have too nice a smile and my skin is too good or some one who’s been clubbing for a few hours
- I decide that I’m going to like this girl
- The brother and the sister ask me lots of questions about gay people, but in a nice, non-weird way
- The brother tells me about the time when his friend from home decided to come out when they (all the straight lads) were 16 and they all went to some local gay bar in full support
- I tell the brother and sister the story about the East London gay at the taxi rank
- The brother and sister empathise in the way that only drunk people who’ll never see me again can empathise, i.e. genuinely albeit short-spanned
- The taxi gets to my place and…
- …I pay my share, say thank you to the brother and sister, tell them that they’re lovely, because they are, and you have to tell people good things you think about them and not only bad things
- The brother asks me to tell them that they’re “fabulous” because he expects all gay people to use that word according to the cliché
- I tell the brother and sister that they’re fabulous and…
- …get out