Cheers by any other name

There are many reasons I love my faggoty little coffee shop. I’m so, so comfortable here. And it’s a great place to get fat. There are people that are here every day. Every day. People that are here every time I come in, no matter what the time. I have no idea what else they do, or how they can be at a coffee shop all day, but wow. A few of the ones that are here every day are the ones that drive me crazy. Constantly on their phones, yelling, screaming, and carrying on like hyenas. (I’m not even talking about the twinks.) At first, I almost stopped coming to this place. If I had to hear the lady yelling about the latest person to piss her off one more time, I was going to kill her. Somewhere along the way, the sound of her screeching has become a security blanket for me (unless I am unlucky enough to get a table behind her when some unknowing shmuck has stolen my seat). The shop is not only home to all of us little geeky queers, but also the socially awkward (or just plain backward) straight community. While it has its challenges and annoyances, it’s pretty cool. Just now, for instance, one of the older ladies who comes in, just started screaming ‘Happy Birthday Ellen!’ She then told us that Ellen’s birthday is coming up in January. (I don’t know when Ellen’s birthday is, but I hope she sends me an invitation. However, I do know now that Prop 8 was overturned, Portia is taking her last name.) This lady is a bit (or quite a bit) on the retarded spectrum. (I know I’m not supposed to say that, however, I am. In grad school, for special education, they told us that it has been decided to go back to the term ‘retarded’ and ‘retardation’—that it’s less insulting than SLIC. It seems the rest of the world doesn’t know that yet…) Anyway, I digress. After this woman’s birthday announcement, everyone pauses, and looks at each other. Awkward. Then, most every one claps and cheers for Ellen’s birthday. The lady was thrilled, and, of course, encouraged to carry on to an even ‘cheerier’ degree. I love that! Most other places, this woman would be avoided, ignored, or shunned altogether. Granted, I doubt anyone here is taking her out to dinner or will send her a birthday card or anything, but still. She is welcome here. She is free to be who she is. So there it is, this place [full of strange fags (twinks, trolls, and geeks, a plenty—many hoping to hook-up), homeless and grungy smelly people, those whose brains don’t function in the same manner as the majority, those who are by all rights rather annoying and socially inept, is a place of safety] is a place of acceptance.
To think, one more day and then I choose to leave this all behind, just so I can go restrain some kids.