AIDS/LIFECYCLE 2005
Day 5: Santa Maria->Lompoc (42 miles)
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It wasn't a rushing kind of day. 42 miles, we still had to be out of camp by 8:30, meaning, even with laziness we'd be in Lompoc by noon. But it was red dress day, which meant everyone was, you guessed it, wearing red dresses. As lore, it started as dress in red day; the idea being that from above, one could see, along the route, a string of red, or, better yet, a ribbon. As gay camp/kitch would have it, dress in red became red dress, and hundreds of men and women in mini's, slips, etc. I didn't have a red dress, but I had a red shirt, so, although not as photogenic, I wasn't completely against the grain.
There was no rush to get out, nor was there a rush to ride, and camp wouldn't be set up before 1 anyways. So I stopped for coffee and watched all the red dresses. Note to men: although you get brownie points for wearing a red dress, you lose points if it doesn't flatter you, and you lose more if you don't show off your riding muscles! The ride was slightly more difficult than I expected, with a few nasty hills and a bothersome headwind. I must admit that I felt uncomfortable rising through Vandenberg Air Force Base, and I didn't see a lot of public support there.
As expected, we got into Lompoc around noon and ate lunch. We weren't particularly sweaty, and so we waited for the shuttle to take us into Lompoc. Sadly, it took 90 minutes for the shuttle to arrive, and even more sad was Lompoc. Strip malls selling Oakland Raiders gear. And it had gotten cold again. We hung out at Starbucks and read the paper, and then went to a taqueria. By 7PM the shuttles weren't running, and we luckily found a cab back. We were happy to give our legs 18 hours off, though.
A note here on my traveling companions. I mentioned before that I expected something somber, introspective. On the contrary, what I got was a posse of dirty, gross, lovable people. A gay man, 3 straight men who, most of the time, acted like gay men, and a straight woman, all making the crudest pre-teen jokes, doing crude things. And me who was, most of the time, content simply to be amused. I was, I must admit, too slow-witted and out of practice to engage in catty banter, and I wasn't bothered, mostly because these people were sincere, caring, and compassionate, and perfectly capable of having an introspective conversation. It's just that no one wanted to or needed to. Not now. More than one person had mentioned to me that 10 years ago, this would have been a morose, wake-like act, but in the US, so many HIV people are living longer, it's common for people to have not lost people in the last ten years. As a result, this was a time of release, of cute thinking and quick talk, quick, indeed thought laughter. And I was content to be there, in that.
The Talent Show was that night. I stayed for a part of it. A few poets, some karaoke, dancing, singing. Some good, some, uh, not so good. What stayed with me, thought, was not the quality, but the way the lesser were respected. In particular, there was a juggler-3 balls only-that, to the tune of U2's With Or Without You, didn't do much, And a man, unaccompanied, singing Ol man River from Oklahoma-that, people not only tolerated, but sincerely applauded, their dedication, their heart, their desire to help.
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