My invitation to Bette Midler’s NYE party seems to have got lost in the mail. So I invited three young Latino gay men who used to work at Arby’s with me over to watch the ball drop. I laid out a beautiful spread for us to enjoy – all the best frozen canapés I could buy. By the time they arrived at 11pm I’d already drunk my way through a whole bottle of champagne and ate a dozen crab rolls. They plonked themselves on my couch and looked disdainfully at my spread of food. “We don’t eat carbs after 7PM,” they informed me. During the time they worked with me at Arby’s, I swear I’d seen them shove curly fries in their faces when we worked the night shift together and no one was looking.
I talked merrily about my plans for my big comeback tour in the new year, but the selfish little men simpered, rolled their eyes at me and watched all the news coverage showing cities in the world who saw the new year before us while bitching about the clothes of everyone on the screen. I tried to practice my routine for them although it was awkward in my silk and silvery new year’s dress. I kept tumbling over and crashed into my coffee table splitting it in half which sent the gays into a hysterical fit of laughter. When the ball finally dropped, they kissed each other and got up to leave saying they were going to party at some club named Circus. They took my remaining bottles of champagne with them. I stayed up for another few hours by myself eating the rest of the pork balls and devouring several packs of Reese’s peanut butter cups.Yours and forever,
Iris Myandowski (The hand walking queer)
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