glaad to meet you
may 20

Los Angeles

About a month ago I received an interesting proposition. Would I accompany the caller to the 13th Annual GLAAD Media Awards? The caller didn't have money to pay me for my time except with a VIP ticket. I thought it over for three seconds and said sure.

So, on Saturday, after running around town after practice, and laying on the horn when a double parked car pulled into my parking space, I dashed in the house and whipped myself into award winning shape: shower, shave, suit, subway- the Kodak Theatre, the same host for the Oscars, was just a subway ride away. On the way to the station I stopped to apologize to the kids who were talking to the car I had honked at.

As is often pointed out to me, I was late in getting to the meeting place, but so was my date, and when I learned the meeting place even didn't exist any more, I phoned up my date to see where he was. Soon my gracious host and I were taking the escalators up to the pre-show schmooze fest. I was quite hungry, and when I found out dinner was after the awards, I hunted down the caterers, especially the ones toting miniature pizza slices and veggie sushi. When I found the entrance to the kitchen I parked myself there, like a one man pigeon flock, pouncing on the wannabe actors as they exited the kitchen. Actually they were grateful to unload their trays early.

After the lights flashed, and on our way to our seats, I ran into one of my rugby teammates and his lover and found out one of their dogs had been killed by a coyote. I gave them each a hug and then we went up to the balcony to find our seats.

The theatre looked grand, smaller than on tv, but impressive. Down in the orchestra sat the stars, I needed everyone of note pointed out to me since I only catch tv at other people's living rooms. But after Gary Marshall warmed up the crowd, it was a non-stop cavalcade of stars. I thought it strange that of the two 'Will and Grace' men, the Will guy was more gay up on stage than on the show and the manic Jack guy kind of just stood there (and what was that un-cliffhanger episode about anyway?).

The Men of Six Feet Under were too hot, as were Jennifer Tilly and Doris Roberts, though for different reasons, and even the creepy Christopher Titus seemed doable. The only downer for me was an appalling lack of timing. The show clipped by, it wasn't the pace that disturbed me.

When Judy Shepard and Pauline Mitchell, respectively the mothers of Matthew Shepard and Fred Martinez, Jr., spoke to the crowd, nearly everyone was moved to tears. It really hit me, as this was the first I had heard about Martinez, a two-spirit Indian youth who was killed in his hometown of Cortez, Colorado, a place I've driven through many times, it's one of the last towns before Telluride.

But no sooner had the lights dimmed and the mothers started to exit stage right, out strode Annette Benning, looking fantastic, and the audience let her know with whoops and hollers, and she soaked it up. I wasn't sure which creeped me out more, the audience displaying a collective flash wipe of memory or the actress hamming it up with us. My jaw hung in the air.

Just like it did when the Men of Six Feet Under (can I order a calender yet?) presented an award for something, I don't remember what, I just remember drooling. The big no-show was Elizabeth Taylor, who was to present a vanguard award to Shirley MacLaine, but that was ok, Irma the Sweet charmed the hungry crowd and apologized for the version of 'The Children's Hour' she appeared in. Later she held court on the patio after dinner.

Speaking of, I was hungry again, and remembered the swag that was waiting at our table and off we went. On the way out of the theatre my date and I got right next to Mrs. Shepard and Mrs. Martinez, and we spoke to Mrs. Martinez, who either was really enjoying herself or is a better actress than some of those who presented. Date and I made our way to the VIP dining hall, mingling with the sweathirt and sneaker crowd checking out the Highland and Hollywood Mall.

At our table sat a middle aged pair of men from New Hampshire, another couple, one of whom looked really good and his boyfriend, and what I had assumed was a straight but supportive Industry fringe couple, he: kind of nerdy but cute, she: totally Betty out of 'Mulholland Drive' (before she finds Rita in the bathroom). And the swag was jammed with stuff. I noticed a Barbie Doll (e-bay!) and a video copy of 'Moulin Rouge'- sweet, I hadn't seen it yet. Loads of other things I wouldn't look at until the next day filled two bags each.

I excused myself and took a stroll around the room to find a restroom and sure enough, my senses brought me right to one, one of the security guards lead me behind a curtain to the kitchen restroom. When I returned, my date had gone off on his own glam walk, and so had everyone else except one of the Granite Staters, who started asking me questions.

Eventually the sordid topic of porn arose, inevitable in this town, and he thought I looked familiar, and was my date my boyfriend? So many questions, so many unanswers. When food finally got around, not everyone was present, and I told the caterers that the empty chair across from me was a vegetarian- hey, this was California, there was actually a veggie version of entree- so I got two. This really worked well for me later when the super delicious desserts came around and most of our table had already left.

But not without my copy of 'Moulin Rouge'! As I would learn by the unforgiving light of day, while I was on my rounds, someone switched my Lady Marmalade with a video from Jewel! How low can you go? I could only chuckle, remembering I had switched out the anal beads in my GayVN bennie bag just weeks ago.

Well, the evening came to an end, my date left for home, the cute and nerdy Industry fringe guy gave me 'get with' vibes (I guess Betty was off doing an 'audition'), but I headed down from the ninth circle for the subway, then realized I didn't have any small bills for Charon, plus the last train was about to leave the station. At midnight what was The Well Dressed Man, alone at the corner of Crack and On to do? I crossed the street, hailed a cab, flirted unsucessfully with the driver, and when I got home, slipped off my suit and off to sleep.

What I'm reading: OC Weekly, with Lloyd Dangle's 'Troubletown', my favorite cartoonist.
What song I can't get out of my head: 'We Live For Love', by Pat Benetar.

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