The Tourists are Here!
Today begins the long Presidents Day weekend which next to Thanksgiving’s Pig Week is the winter’s or we down here call Season’s biggest weekend for gay tourists from across the country and around the world. After all, when everybody else is dealing with Artic weather (l know, l just spent the holidays at the home l co-own with my ex in Northeastern Pennsylvania), we’re basking in 80 degree sun.
Now tourism is the number one industry in Florida (forget Agriculture which is fast fading), and the more tourists spend, the lower my taxes as a resident.. So it comes as no surprise we welcome those moneybags from NYC, Chicago, Fargo, N.D. (where Pence is contemplating establishing those conversion camps for us – just joking), or Berlin (another gay party town). And we gay guys who have the good fortune to live in south Florida are constantly checking the hookup sites and phone apps for tourists with benefits.
Two problems though: this is a town of philandering partners so when we hear a Mr. Hottie who likes us, really likes us, is staying with family and friends or at a gay guesthouse or cheap motel with seven other buddies or their partner, we have to remind them we’re relying on them for a place to fuck.
Secondly, tourists are a pain in the ass. They crowd our bars with their cliquey cliques (especially the Ramrod, our leather bar, since most of the guys have no place to wear their leather in their own towns anymore), step on our steel toed boots with their steel toed boots, eat up all the space on Sebastian, our gay beach, or all the parking spots if they’re not staying by the beach so us townies have to park two miles away to visit our beach, crowd our restaurants and our sex club and our bath houses…
Acting like they were visiting royalty.
Like the guy from NYC, anxious to meet, who texted, “I’ll be tied up with friends most of the time but I should be able to able to get away.” My response: “When I hear that, my red flags go up. I’ve been down that road too many times before with other out-of-town guys who are set up a time, then last minute back up for whatever reason. fucking me up.” Lesson learned? If you’re free when I’m free, fine, but I ain’t keeping time open for you when I got five fuck buddies who wanna see Daddy.
Or like the guy from Denver who hit me up on Scruff earlier this month. He and his beloved were staying at some swanky hotel by the beach (his love had his American Express bonus points to use up). Instead of coming my way – l now live solo and so can host, have a secluded heated pool, etc., etc., – he wanted me to show up at seven thirty in the morning while his partner was taking his morning jog, bring the poppers, pay fifteen bucks to park in the hotel lot, fuck the shit out of him and leave by 8:15 before his lover returned
Maybe you’d like me to stop for croissants for breakfast on my way over, huh?
After all, just because I work for the Fort Lauderdale Tourism Bureau to keep our out-of-towners happy and get extra commission for “early calls” doesn’t mean I’m that money hungry.