Yesterday the Farmboyz and my visiting pal from LA, Jerry, joined me in a lovely trip out to Fire Island. The Farmboyz, strangely enough, had never been, and Jerry hadn’t been in 27 years. And although I’ve spent nine summers in NYC, this was only my third visit. We started the morning with a tour around the houses in the Pines, greeted some very friendly deer, then had lunch in Cherry Grove followed by a visit to the Ice Palace for a very raucous drag show. Then we endured a stinging sandstorm on the beach for the trek back to the Pines for low and high tea at the Blue Whale and the Pavilion (where a very grizzled Sheepy made an appearance.)
Along the way we ran into a porn star or two, a reality show star, and a cable porn pioneer. Just your average day at the gay beach. The most memorable moment came when we accidentally crashed a giant house party with a Liz Taylor theme, where many of the guests were covered with silver body glitter. That’s where Father Tony was wrongly accused of cutting into the bathroom line by a man who screamed, “I’ve had a lot of Botox and you can’t tell, but this is my ANGRY face!” OK, then.