We entered Target, and immediately Joe said, “I’ve got to go pee.” We’re old men and this is a constant theme throughout our day. I didn’t have to go so I wandered around the entrance to the store. Two fellows came in, maybe in their 50’s, saw me there, smiled, and said, “Waiting on the wife?”
Now I had a choice.
I could just let it go, I could say that I was waiting for a friend, or I could be truthful. They seemed friendly, but gay people know how quickly friendly can change into hostility. I decided to just be truthful, “No, I’m waiting on my husband.”
I had called wrong.
They immediately flared up and I knew I was in a dangerous situation. “Where you from?” I was asked and I said that I was from Canada, that gave them fuel. “You are a country full of faggots up there from your faggoty president right down to you.”
“You are right,” I said, surprised that I felt less fear than I used to and more courage than I thought I had, “we are a country full of people like me, and you know what they call us, ‘citizens’ man, ‘citizens.'”
A short glaring match.
Joe comes out to their retreating backs. “Do I want to know?” he asked. “No,” I said, “you don’t.”
