My best male friend is "J".
We are the original Karen & Jack. We've been stopped in public a million times by people who'll tell us that; as if we have no clue. (I will admit that I'm older than Megan Mullaley only because it does give me dibs on the whole Karen Walker character). I was rockin' that before one single Hollywood writer put down a line of her shtick on paper.
J is Jack on steroids. He's 6'4" with spiky blonde hair and he couldn't have stayed in the closet if you'd have bricked him up inside of one as an infant.
We often said that our real life stories would've made a much better show than The Simple Life because our stories are true. The producers won't need to write one word or stage one scene. We just need a camera crew to film some of what we get into………
We've flown to St. Simon's Island Ga. for a wedding; me, J and our friend Ally. Ally is a God fearing, fine Christian woman who spends a great deal of time praying that the lord will overlook most of what J and I get involved in. We don't mean to be in trouble but when we're together we're mischievous and it's just bad. We're the new age Lucy and Ethel.
The three of us met through our old jobs together and have been totally in love since. Why Ally puts up with us is beyond me but she does, and we love her.
I don't recall the reason, but shortly after we check into our hotel we had to drive to the nearby town of Brunswick to go to one of those "mart" places, K-Mart, Wal-Mart, who the hell cares. Now I don't want to besmirch the fine folks of Brunswick, but it's the arm pit of the world. It also appeared to be the Rebel flag capital of the United States. (Just saying).
As we get out of the car I notice that J has his "man bag". I ask him to leave his purse in the car and he gets his knickers in a wad "because it's not a purse". My sense of survival kicked in and I insist that he leave the man bag in the car. These people weren't playing. From the minute we crossed into their county we were on their radar. We hurry through the "mart" because the town folk are beginning to stare -menacingly. I'm hurrying because I'm worried about how I'll ever get the stench of this place out of a Ralph Lauren blouse.
We manage to make it out of the "mart" unscathed but now must hit the liquor store cause, well, its past breakfast, and we needed something to drown out the memory of Brunswick. They weren't nice to us in there either cause J is gay, and I was wearing a push up bra and eye shadow. Get the women and children off the sidewalks, the sin wagon had pulled into town.
Later that night, with Ally nestled snug in her bed, J and I head off to find a cozy little bar with great atmosphere and a lovely view of the ocean. What we find is a bar with what I believe was supposed to be a band, and a cast of characters whose first jobs had to be as extra's in Deliverance. From the moment we walk in we know we're in the wrong place, but we don't want to appear rude, so we'll have one quick martini and hit the road.
We settle in at the bar and when J orders a martini the bartender looked as if he'd just been struck by lightening. There was an audible gasp in the room. The whole place goes quiet. "Uh, we ain't got no martinis" our bar keep responds in his colloquial southern dialect. J asks "well then what have you got"? "Uh, we got beer". J looks at me –"oh goody, they've got beer". "Lovely then, two beers".
I'm in something yummy, silk and opaque; J is flawless down to his kidskin loafers and there we are trapped in white trash hell. I begin to hear dueling banjo's playing in my mind. I'm kicking J under the bar and he is, through- gritted –teeth, telling me to drink the friggin beer- fast and let's get the hell out of there.
Well the band played FreeBird and the patrons yelled "fag" comments over the speaker system to each other. We were appalled. Had we not been severely running the risk of becoming gator bait before the night was over we'd have both pitched a proverbial hissy. Having decided we'd not wish to appear as the victims on an upcoming 48 hour mystery, we left the bar.
Safely in the car and several miles down the road, we do what any good friends would do - laugh and mock them.
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