QColumn: A Gay In The Life: The Age of Disbelief

The Age of Disbelief
By Steve Prince
I have a confession to make. This might shock some of you.
I do not watch American Idol. I’ve never even seen an episode.
I know this surprises me too. I mean this is coming from a kid who LOVED to watch Star Search with Ed McMahon (although the revamp of that show was NOT good). I think though, why I loved Star Search was because of their spokesmodel competition.
Oh my GOD—it was in credible. They’d always have a male model and a female model. It was actually pretty ridiculous that they even had that competition. I mean, all the “spokesmodel” did was walk onstage, introduce their photo shoot montage, Ed would show the montage, and that was it.
I have to admit, though. I never missed the photo montage. Why? Well, because they always had the guy take his shirt off. I can remember holding the pillow in front of my crotch because I had an erection. There was this one model, whose montage was to the music of that song Connected. Just listening to that song today, gets me a little worked up. Whew! Who knew Ed McMahon brought out the gay in me?
So needless to say, I really can take or leave American Idol. I’m not one of those people who hates the show. I’m truly indifferent about it. Well, at least I was until a week ago.

Here’s the deal… I was sick of hearing about it: who’s off, who’s on, who’s safe, who’s not, who’s gay, and who’s gayer… Ugh. Seems like all anyone talks about these days.
Besides I think the term “idol” is a little presumptive to use for some of those singers. It’s like the word “diva.” Diva used to mean something. Maria Callas was a diva. Joan Crawford was a diva. Hell, Charles Busch is a diva. The Pussycat dolls… Paris Hilton… divas? Yeah, not so much.
When I think of the word “idol,” images of singers and actors painted in black-and-white comes to mind. I know I’m only thirty, but I’ve always been an old movie fan. I started out loving movie musicals and I still do, I’ll admit. I sat in front of my TV and watched starry-eyed as Doris Day skipping around a playground singing “Don’t Eat the Daisies“, and then once I got the choreography down, I even skipped with her.
Maybe that’s why I don’t get star-struck very often which I guess that’s a good thing since I live in Los Angeles. I’m actually terrible at recognizing famous people. James however, loves celebrities and completely admits to being a starfucker.
I have to admit though, that I’ve been overtaken and completely in awe of some celebrities. In fact, one true idol in particular comes to mind…
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I love going to the Hollywood Bowl. It’s probably my favorite thing to do in LA during the summer. The Hollywood Bowl is where the Los Angeles Philharmonic makes its summer home. It’s nestled between the Hollywood Hills and when you’re sitting there listening to the gorgeous music, you completely forget that you’re in the city. It is truly magical. But it’s not just classical music. Oh no! The bowl has jazz, world music, classical, opera. pop, rock, and showtunes.
Oh yes… the Bowl does have showtunes. And my favorite thing to do is attend The Sound Of Music Sing-Along. Whenever my roommate James and I go, we pack a picnic (because that’s what one does when going to The Bowl) and we both drink a bottle of wine apiece. Then we sing in our falsettos like big ol’ Marys and have the gayest time ever—too much fun!
Well, tonight I went with my most favorite queer dear Raquel. We’d been friends for over seven years. Even though she’s a short, petite, half-Puerto Rican, half-Cuban girl who’s lived in Miami most of her life, she has the heart of a Brooklyner and is New York through and through. She’s also my neighbor. She lives a one-bedroom apartment above our garage and we both pal around the city all the time.
Tonight Raquel and I were going to see a staged version of Sunset Boulevard, the 1950’s movie—not the musical. The LA Phil would play the score while they projected the film onto a huge backdrop behind them.
“EEE! I can’t wait!” Raquel squealed as we walked up the hill to our seats.
Raquel is an actress; it’s her business to know famous people and apparently there were a lots of famous people in the show.
I, as usual, was oblivious. The only person I knew in the show was Betty Buckley, who would play Norma Desmond. Talk about “diva.” I’ve heard Betty Buckley is bat-shit crazy, but who cares—her voice is amazing.
We took our seats just as the lights dimmed. For a second there was silence. I heard a couple of cricket chirps, then the music began.
The concert met all my expectations. Betty Buckley was a drag queen and I mean drag queen. She was so over the top, she made Ru Paul look tiny. And since I’m a very gay man and Raquel’s even gayer—we loved it.
Two hours later, as the show let out, we both walked carefully down the hill to our car. That’s the only bad part about the Hollywood Bowl—the parking. It sucks ass, and not in a good way. Because space is limited, the attendants park the cars one right behind the other. So basically you park your car and if you’re sandwiched between two other cars, you have to wait until those people leave because there’s no other way. It’s boring and it sucks.
To get to our car, Raquel and I walked through the line of cars trying to exit the Bowl. There really isn’t a path, so we both just zig-zagged in and out of vehicles. As we approached of moving line of cars, Raquel and I both stopped to let some cars pass and then a Toyota Prius stopped to let us by.
“Well that’s sweet,” I said, my Southern drawl emphasized. Raquel would be driving, I’d been drinking wine and felt a bit tipsy.
I glanced at the driver to nod my head, and for a second I thought I’d recognized someone. Nah, it couldn’t be, I told myself. I began walking once more, but Raquel clutched my arm in her small fingers.
“What?” I said, seeing something amiss by her ashen face.
“Stevie…Stevie,” Raquel said quietly as if praying.
“What?” I said, getting worried.
“Do you know who’s in that Prius?” she asked, daring me to look.
I turned and I locked eyes with the driver. Behind me, Raquel said…
“That’s Angela Lansbury.”
I had neither decorum nor tact in that moment, only visceral emotion.
Suddenly all I could think of was watching Murder She Wrote with my Momma. She loved that show. Angela played Jessica Fletcher. Every Sunday night Jessica would give us an episode filled with humor and wit (yes, my mother knew how to raise a gay son). Suddenly, I was looking at this woman that I loved. A woman that had given my Momma and I so much joy. Also, the old Disney film Bedknobs and Broomsticks was one of my favorite movies ever. I can quote it.
So maybe that’s why, I… well, I mean, what was I supposed to do?
So I, uh… err… I—
I actually pointed at Angela Lansbury and started jumping up and down and yelling at the top of my lungs.
“JESSICA FLETCHER! JESSICA FLETCHER!!!!”
Then, Raquel (who’s real gay, mind you) started hitting my arm uncontrollably while yelling,
“SWEENEY TODD! SWEENEY TODD!”
We both did that in front of Angela Landsbury’s car for over fifteen seconds. Fifteen seconds.
Finally we realized we had to move so Ms. Lansbury could drive away. So we stepped off to the side, arm-in-arm. In silent agreement we both waved robotically, excitedly but also apologetically, a starstruck look gilding our faces.
Oh and Ms. Lansbury you ask? She simply kept her hands at 10 and 2. As she passed us she softly, yet generously smirked and with a courteous nod drifted into the star strewn sky of gold and crimson headlights…
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Years after moving from Oklahoma, Steve Prince is still acclimating to the gay scene in Los Angeles—he’s a slow learner. By trial and error and a lot of sex, his mission is to make the uncomfortable, comfortable. Also it should be known that he is gayer than butt sex.
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Previously, on A Gay In The Life:
The Birds and The Birds
Lyin’, & Twinks, & Bears—Oh My!
Going Public
Christmas in July
Luck Be A Lady Tonight
I Left My Heart In Oklahoma
As Luck Would Have It
Shock & Awe
Blame It On Britney
The Unending Journey
Makin’ Copies
Bullets and Bracelets… and Lube
To Tell The Truth…
Stars Aren’t Blind
The Dark Knight
Come As You Are
A Date?
A Happy Ending
Better Than Nothing
A Man With A Slow Hand
Taking The Long Way
Everybody Knows
Wake Me Up, Before Ya Go-Go
Definition
The Best
The Upper Hand
Hit Me With Your Best Shot
2000-Date
Dick The Halls
The Queer Dear
A Night At The Museum
A Conversation
I’m Just A Girl Who Can’t Say No
Change The Way You Feel
Kissing A Fool
Leo The Lamb
The Elephant In The Room
Zuckerman’s Famous Pig
A Birthday Surprise
The Sleepover-er
SP Phone Home
Out of the Frying Pan and into the Closet
What If…
Just Beat It
Intimate Portrait
Intimate Portrait (Part Deux)
Intimate Portrait (Part Trois)
State of Mind