When we planned this trip, we expected to meet all kinds of people, including those who take a dim view of the “gay population,” some of whom might even be outright hostile. We hoped to win over a few or at least leave them with an improved impression, and ignore the rest. But so far, we’ve only had good encounters with strangers, even those with obviously opposing political and religious views. Until the Grand Canyon.
When we pulled into our site in Trailer Village, Kate and I raised our eyebrows at the sight of two men sitting outside a large fifth wheel next to us. “PLU?” Kate suggested, using our friend Kelly’s acronym for “People Like Us.”
“I think so,” I answered and gave a little wave. They looked right through me. Several times over the next three days, I tried to engage them. A wave, a nod, a “hi” as I walked by. Always the same. As if I weren’t even there. We watched them chat and laugh with other people who walked by and asked them about their dogs or rig, even shake hands, so they clearly had it in them to be friendly.
Our stubbornly unfriendly neighbors.
On the third day, I was determined to break the ice. Walking back from the trash bin, I came between our rigs instead of around. “It’s not nice to walk through other people’s sites,” one said. I laughed. It was a joke, right? But the guy wasn’t smiling. I approached them anyway.
“Can I pet your puppy?” I asked. No dog lover can resist that ice breaker, and they had a little dachshund puppy that they called “Baby Girl” and doted on like an infant, even carrying it in a front baby carrier.
“No.” The other said emphatically. I looked up in disbelief. “She’s only 11 weeks. She hasn’t even had her shots yet.” What are they afraid I’ve give her, herpes?
“How about this one? How old is this one?” I squatted and their older dachshund toddled over and licked my hand, a betrayal that pissed them off I’m sure.
“Four,” one said curtly. Then they both turned away from me and started talking to each other in a conversation that was meant not to be interrupted.
What the frigging hell? Kate and I could simply not figure it out. There wasn’t one thing we were aware of doing that would have offended these guys.
Just as there are lesbian separatists who don’t want to be around men, I know there are gay men who dislike lesbians. Although if I’ve even met any, they were considerate enough to conceal it. Or maybe it was internalized homophobia, and they were avoiding guilt by association. But if that were the case, who were they kidding? Two middle-aged men traveling together with their wiener dogs? Maybe it was political. They were from Florida and hung a huge American flag off the front of their rig. We still have a “Yes, we did” Obama sticker on our car.
Whatever the reason, this was our first experience with outright hostility on our trip, and it was so disappointing that it was from people I would have thought would have welcomed us. Or at least offered a knowing nod.
Jennifer and Kate, So sorry. It reminds me a little of our time in Ketchikan, Alaska, Jennifer, though we ended up with a good response then. Sounds like a couple of woman-hating a-holes. I’m sorry. Good you got to drive away. Leave them with their own poison.
Perhaps they do think they’re fooling the world and you were going to “out” them. But like you said, who are they kidding?
My thought is that they were not gay. Or not out to themselves.
Yesterday I went to get my haircut. The same guy who has been cutting my hair for a couple of years looks like a classic typical hairdresser queer to the point of cliche: rings in his ears, lots of bling, nail polish, eye liner. I always loved chatting with him so was disapointed to hear he’d left. When another person was cutting my hair, I asked where my usual guy had gone.( thinking I might follow him to another hair shop). She said , “He moved to Ohio to be with his fiancé. “Ohio?” I said “Is gay marriage legal in Ohio?”. Oh, she said Laughing , she said, “Oh Dave’s not gay. His girlfriend wanted to move back there to be near her mother”. I was stunned. So much for fifty odd years of gay radar.
I don’t think we misread these guys. Matching bikes, matching sweaters, and they called each other “hon.” But we’ve moved on and marked it up to experience.
Hard to understand that encounter. By everything you describe those two were a couple. Its hard to fathom why they would be such dicks. I guess most adventures include the occasional ants at the picnic, but it’s unsettling to have someone be rude and unfriendly prior to knowing anything about you. I’m sure the Grand Canyon has been wounderously memorable in many ways, but tempered by a tragic fall and nasty boy-bigots. May these experiences prove rare as you continue on.
Whenever I run across someone like those two guys, I think “glad I’m not married to them/him/her…” and I walk away, ’cause I can choose who to spend time with. So remember to be glad you could leave and you did. Y’all don’t need that energy anywhere near you.