it’s a girl thing
by henrietta henry
Our alarm went off at 9:00 a.m. the day of our trip to Orlando. I groaned and bur- swapped stories of good times at Mom’s, and despite the underlying feeling of
rowed further beneath the blankets, almost wishing it wouldn’t have gone off. My sad nostalgia, we all had a great time.
girlfriend on the other hand, who’s used to getting up while it’s still dark outside, The next day I took Alicia on a tour of my Orlando. We visited my old houses,
was plucky and energetic. She gently tried to coax me out of bed. “I can’t believe schools, places I used to hang out. The streets were still familiar to me; I remem-
you’re not excited!” She said. “It’s early...” I grumbled. Not even the final trip to my bered short cuts and the long way. And as we drove, Orlando became beautiful to
childhood home could stave off my routine grouchiness. I am most definitely not me, after so long of being tarnished from my rocky past. “This is your home.” Alicia
a morning person. said, and I paused. I hadn’t considered Orlando my home in years. “I think it’s one
The Orlando airport was a ghost town at midnight when we finally arrived. We of them.” I said finally, smiling.
met up with my best friend Eric, who decided last minute that he wanted to come That night, Eric decided we needed some karaoke, and managed to find a gay
bid Mom’s house farewell, and made our way to the rental car check-in. There, we bar with a KJ not too far away. The bar felt like a scene from Brokeback Mountain:
discovered that the entire traveling population of the airport was in line to get a plaid-shirts and cowboy hats everywhere. To keep with the theme, Eric sang
car. So, after about an hour we were finally on the road. “Where Have All the Cowboys Gone”, and got roars of laughter. I did “Let’s Give
Our first stop was not home, but one of Orlando’s oldest gay clubs that I used ‘Em Something to Talk About” and won free drinks from the bar, and Alicia got
to frequent when I was barely legal. We made it for a couple drinks, some danc- a standing ovation with “I Touch Myself”. As we left the bartender called out to
ing on the humid patio dance floor, and a contest for the butchest lesbian in the come back the following week and they’d have a stage set up for us.
Saved
BY THE
Bell
feedback?
itsagirlthing@ragemonthly.com
club. It was surreal visiting the club where I discovered dirty, bathroom make- The morning of our flight back, I was up uncharacteristically before everyone.
out sessions with strangers, drag shows, and Tori Amos song remixes during I got ready to go, and then spent some time alone in the quiet of the living room,
my young teenage years. Not much had changed, and for some reason it gave taking everything in one last time. I wondered where my family would end up,
me a strange comfort. The next morning, Mom woke us up with beers and the and how a new place would feel. I wondered who would end up living in the
standard Southern breakfast, ready to party. In the middle of fried eggs and Miller house, building their own memories amongst the ones we had there. I pictured
Lite, I noticed a puddle of water in the hallway, coming from Mom’s room. “The someone else’s furniture, their pictures on the walls, their holiday decorations,
toilet’s overflowing again!” Catastrophe. My family began procedurally placing and started to cry. This was it. Mom came home from work to say bye and found
every towel in the house onto the floor. I dug the Shopvac from the shed and tried me. “Oh, honey, it’ll be ok. We might be living somewhere else but things will still
to drain the 3-inch deep water from the shower. Unbenownst to anyone, Alicia be the same. You’ll see.”
was experiencing her own catastrophe in the neighboring bathroom, where We made it back home safely after another grueling flight. And while driving
the toilet refused to flush. She’d tried plunging in a panic, terrified that someone to work the next morning, Mom called. I answered, expecting the routine ques-
would walk in. Nothing worse than that situation when you’re meeting the family. tions about how my flight had been. Instead I heard screaming on the other end.
I couldn’t help but laugh, and eventually she did too, and all was smoothed over “Mom, what is it?!” I asked. “It’s saved! Obama saved the house!” She yelled. Turns
with more beers and rock n’ roll. Such is the way at Mom’s house. out that the agency who’d been working with her mortgage company managed
Later on the BBQ went into full effect, despite a downpour of rain comparable to skirt her into Obama’s homeowner bailout plan last minute. I pulled over to the
to India’s seasonal monsoons. My uncle grilled amidst the onslaught, manning side of the freeway and screamed with her. “Now we’ll REALLY have to party when
the grill bravely to bring us beautifully seared steak, chicken and ribs. Everyone you come home again!” Mom said.Nothing like a happy ending.
28 RAGE monthly | July 2009
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