I'm the Fairy of the Enchanted Forest

I have heard from a lot of old high-school classmates lately. It's a weird cluster, I suppose. First was Kim, who I had lunch with last weekend and who I didn't hang out with much in high school. But she and I got to know each other during our high school reunion last year.

Then I got a nostalgic e-mail early this week from Larry, who has a story all his own I'll have to share another time.

Then I got an e-mail the other day from my friend Ashley, who I met when we were in third grade and who I'm lucky to see every two years, I consider to be a brother. He's coming my way this week on his way to visit his parents and needs a place to crash.

But the strangest, most bizarre encounter I've recently experienced came in the form of an out-of-the-blue e-mail from Brian B. - aka "Barbie" in high school - who is hands-down the most flamboyant, out-of-the-closet, unabashedly gay man I have ever met.

He was kicked out of Lexington Catholic for setting fire to a locker. Although his standard-issue couture in high school was khakis, polos and dock-siders, he also carried a purse. Yes, a purse. And it contained only two items: a pack of Chesterfield cigarettes, and a bottle of Pretty Feet and Hands.

As I sat at my computer stunned that I heard from this guy, memories started flooding back:

• He drove a camouflage Volkswagen Thing that had a broken gas pedal. We'd drive around town with me sitting on the floorboard pulling the cord with him screaming, "Pull it harder! We need to go faster!" as my fingers were screaming in pain.
• He later sold that VW Thing for a rocks glass full of hash oil.
• He belongs to a very wealthy family who made its fortune in thoroughbred breeding and racing and were part of the Kentucky elite. His aunt is Beverly Fortune, society writer for the Lexington Herald-Leader. He had an affair with socialite Anita Madden's husband, Preston Madden. The Maddens are known the world over for their Derby parties, where celebrities travel from around the world to attend.
• He had me and my freind, Glenn, visit his parents' house while they were away. The inside of their beautiful home was riddled with piles of shit created by their senile poodle. He took us to the back yard with his kidney-shaped pool that was completely covered in algae and asked us to swim. We were like, "Ewwwww.....no." But he stripped down to nothing and dove in, emerging looking like the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

The most vivid memory I have of Brian, however, is from the last day of our junior year in high school. He, my friend, Richard, and I skipped school and went to one of our favorite teenage hangouts: the Lexington Cemetery.

I was the designated driver, and in the back seat of my 1979 Chevy Nova, Brian spotted a pair of fishnets I had been saving for Halloween or something. He immediately stripped down to nothing but his Polo and put on my fishnets. As we sat at a stop light, a friend of ours, Donna, was behind us in her car and honked at us. Brian leaped out of the car and started screaming, "Dooooonnnna! Dooooooonnnna!" and proceeded to maul her with kisses through her drivers-side window. Meanwhile, I was freaking out at the spectacle he was creating and told my friend Richard, "When this light turns green, I'm outta here. He can get in Donna's car. He's just way too much and he's going to get us in trouble."

True to my word, the light turned green, and off I went through the intersection, until I heard him screaming at the top of his lungs, "Taaaaaaaabitha. TAAAAAAAAAAAABITHA!" I looked in my rearview and he was flailing his arms and running through the intersection. Cars were honking at him. People were yelling at him.

And yes, I turned around and got him.

Off we went to the Lexington Cemetery.

He refused to put his pants back on, being quite enamoured with the way the fishnets made his legs look. So I insisted that, at the very least, he should wear my tied-tyed gas jacket.

Now, let me stop for a moment and tell you about this jacket.

It was made of canvas, and I bought it at this crazy, funky boutique called "Deja Vu" near the University of Kentucky. I wore this jacket every day. I mean it. EVERY day. Without fail. Eeeeeveryone in high school knew me by this jacket. So giving it up to a shreiking, out-of-control gay man was evidence of my utter desperation.

We went to the cemetery and shortly after arriving, Brian leaped out of the car, donning fishnets and my jacket, and started plucking flowers and ribbons off the graves. We were in this area called the Family Circle, a cluster of graves that surround a Confederate monument that's right across from the mausoleum.

As Brian ran from grave-to-grave plucking flowers and stuffing them in the waistband of his fishnets, Richard and I crouched behind a gravestone trying not to be seen while almost peeing on ourselves from laughing so hard. Soon, Brian was skipping from grave to grave, singing, "I'm the fairy of the enchanted forest. I'm the fairy of the enchanted forest."

I can only imagine what went through the mind of the family who was leaving the mausoleum across the drive after visiting their dearly departed when they emerged and saw this teenager in fishnets and a tie-dyed long jacket with flowers and bows hanging off his ass skipping about in the Family Circle and singing.

Richard and I were screaming, "There are people there! Hide! Hide! Stop it!" But Brian didn't stop. If anything, knowing people were there just made him sing louder.

The family, stunned, turned around and went back IN to the mausoleum.

I think it was then that Richard and I really did pee in our pants. It was the funniest thing I think I've ever seen in my life. That family did not know WHAT to think!

Forunately, I was able to get a few pictures. Here's my favourite.
I talked to Brian on the phone yesterday. He is currently living in New Orleans and works for the government collecting delinquent taxes. His house was flooded in Katrina.

"So, did you evacuate?" I asked.

"My sister made me evacuate, but I was going to have a big hurricane party. I had bought a bunch of ice and frozen pizzas and had a bunch of drugs. But this storm was bigger than Texas and was headed right for us, so I left."

"Wow, I bet you're glad you listened to your sister."

"Yeah, can you imagine tripping and being all strung out in the Super Dome?"

Silence. Um, no, I can't really imagine that, Brian.

Sigh....our conversation continued.

"So, are you dating anyone?" I asked.

"Yes. We have been together two years and just moved in together. But we met on Man Hunt. I'm sure you've heard of it."

"No, I haven't."

"Oh gosh...it's a Web site. It's a gay cruising site and it's really, really seedy. I just love telling people I met my husband on Man Hunt."

OK...I was most definitely a fag hag in high school, but I was never a gay man. And I am definitely NOT a fag hag now. Why would he think I knew anything about this Web site? Grrrr...

For as depressing it is to see how much all of us have changed in the 20 years since high school, with the expanding waistlines and receding hairlines, I must say it's even more depressing to see that some of us haven't changed at all.