Sunday, May 29, 2011

Out For Thai With Chicken Queens, In Savannah

Out For Thai With Chicken Queens In Savannah
So get this, last night we went out to a Thai restaurant with the two gay guys who threw the dinner party Friday night in Savannah. I guess I didn't piss them off with my "humor", that night. I told y'all I was on my best behavior! I guess they fell for it, cuz they called yesterday and said they would drive us out to Thunderbolt near the Bonaventure Cemetery in a red-neck area of Savannah, to a 'hole in the wall', Thai restaurant.
Thai? In red neck country? You must be joking.

So I said: Okay, we don't have any better offers, I guess we'll go out with you two Queens. Of course, I much would have preferred sitting at home by a fire writing to all of my dearest Facebook Fans... of which I have narrowed my friend list down from 7,231 on 6 different profiles, to my favorite 2,000 on my real profile. Unfortunately, I'm being dropped by some of you, as I type. I am down to 1989.  But since I've been smoking that killer pot laced with hash from California, I really don't give a shit.

Actually, thanks to all of you who disappear... never liked you anyway. Smell ya later.

So, they pick us up in some kind of fancy car and I'm thinking: This is the second time I've seen this fancy jalopy and I wonder what the hell it is? So I get up the gumption and ask the driver: Excuse me, is this some kind of f a i n c y car that rich people drive, or is this just a regular old jalopy?

To which the driver replies: It's a LEXUS darling.

Oh. I've heard of those. I know they are not cheap... so I think: Thank god I got dressed up tonight in a nice pair of flowered shorts and put on a clean t-shirt and a pair of fresh white socks & my dress flip flops. I even brushed my teeth, flossed, gargled, swooshed and rinsed after I took a shower. Pit sniff... yep, fresh as spring rain. I thought these two fags might be a bit "uppity" so I wanted to make sure I smelled fresh & clean.

So we're riding down to Thunderbolt which is a red-neck area of Savannah out near the Bonaventure Cemetery in this LEXUS and as we wind deeper and deeper into Thunderbolt, (red-necks) I start to get a little scared. Are we being kidnapped? Are they going to pull a gun on us, take our money and push us out onto the pavement and drive off? I mean, we had just met these two guys the night before. I swear to sweet Jesus, I will jump in a car and go anywhere at the drop of a pill-box hat, with anybody. Must be paranoia from the pot. So I brush it off and butch up a bit.
As we drive along this red-neck country where road, where red-necks are hiding, towards the Bonaventure Cemetery, it's getting darker and darker and the Spanish moss hanging from the Live Oak trees is looking more and more ominous with the Lexus headlights droning in on them. I start to get a little worried, then I remember they couldn't hurt a fly because the one in the passenger seat, Gary, reminds me exactly of Nathan Lane from The Bird Cage. He's shreiking and cackling like a wet hen and honestly, we were laughing so hard at his story about something something something and her pussy...that I started to get a little headache from laughing so hard, and I had to yell:
stop it!
stop it!
as I am clutching my rosary beads in one hand and gasping for breath while holding my hand up at him while we were en-route. My head hurts, hon, those cocktails we had last night mixed with a little mary-hoochie has got mommy a bit blitzed. I can't laugh that much!
to Stop.
Which of course, gets her going even more-so.

We get to the restaurant, and while it appears to be a hole-in the wall in a remote and scary location where red-necks hide near the cemetery in Savannah, a location that no white boy in his right mind would go to, in the dark...the restaurant inside is actually very nice. It's called: Kao Thai Cuisine. It's out on Victory Drive past Skidaway... out where all the cemeteries are, like The Bonaventure Cemetery where Danny Hansforth (a red neck) was shot to death in the study of Mercer House, by Jim Williams. Y'all remember the book: Midnight in the Garden of Good & Evil?
Well, this red-neck area out by the cemetery actually looks just like the cover of that book.

Crap. I think I actually see Danny, covered in Spanish moss, hanging from one of the live-oak trees.

Marijuana paranoia.

The four of us plow into the Kao Thai restaurant, only one of my friends actually locks the door before I can get inside and he stands there, on the inside with me on the outside of the glass door and screams through the glass in a high pitched voice that sounds just like Nathan Lane from the Bird Cage, he would scare most dogs, when he screeches: I'M SORRY, WE ARE  CLOSED FOR T'NIGHT, Y'ALL 'L HAFFTA COME BACK OUT HEYAH AGAIN SOME OTHER TIME. And he flips the open sign to CLOSED ... and I start laughing so hard I can barely control my pee and his partner says:
Party pooper. So, we ignore him and fall across the restaurant into a table where we continue to laugh our asses off at our own hilarity.

We are seated at a lovely table with white linens and I notice that the entire restaurant is empty, except for one other couple who are quietly enjoying their meal. I totally ignore them... because, who cares?
If they don't like loud, obnoxious pot-smoking alcoholic queens, they can move. To another restaurant.
...and then we are greeted by our servers who are obviously 17, 18 or 19 year old boys, and they're either: straight, hicks, red-necks, Christians, Boy Scouts or all of the above. And the four of us are screaming, laughing and carrying on like a bunch of sissy-marys.
Three old chicken chasers and me. A bear lover who's starting to age, & admire the chickens.
And these servers are cute with a capital K.

At this point, we are laughing so hard that we don't hear what the Chef's specials are, and we're so busy screaming funny comments at one another that we actually forget to look at the menu so that after the fifth time the waiter comes around, we decide we're forced to order or starve to death. One of the guys says: We better order before we get kicked out... and we're starting to wonder what they're all saying about us back in the kitchen.... so we decide to butch it up a bit and study the menu.
When all of the sudden, the one who acts like Nathan Lane says, in a false Asian accent: Is Missy Thai Owner Here? And the boys run back into the kitchen, and bring out the chef. Well, by this time, we've each had several cocktails and can barely talk to the chef. I think he spoke Thai and could barely understand American Gay.  Anyway.

I'm sorry, what was that? Red curry with pineapple that he said was the special? Or was that Massaman with vegetables plus a protein? Shrimp? And it takes us another 15 minutes before we can order because, frankly? All four of us are cheap-asses and we're more concerned with ordering the cheapest meal on the menu, all the while, we want the very-best meal the restaurant has to offer along with a few more....

What was that? The pineapple thingy was $12.95 or was that the one that was $18.95? Oh... 18, never mind. How much was the yellow-curried vegetables? Maybe I'll just have a bowl of soup and are we going to get appetizers? When Tony stops dead and screams out an announcement to the waiter who's across the room: WE INSIST ON SEPARATE CHECKS. PUT THOSE TWO ON ONE TAB AND PUT THE TWO OF US ON ANOTHER....
because, frankly, Tony is just as cheap as Ron is...

and one of the other guys we're with, says loudly: WELL! I NEVER! and I looked at them and said, And y'all never will, either... and by the way, would y'all mind sitting at another table, too? Would that be too much to ask? Tony and I have a reputation to maintain. Of course, after the cocktail party I attended the other night, I'm certain my reputation is close to besmirched, anyway.


So, I figure...ooops, I better go back to being on my best behavior, because, seriously? There's no way in hell I can walk twelve or eighteen miles back to the Historic district in flip flops. Even if they have arch supports and I paid a fortune for them. They're leather and super cute. I paid a fortune from them, Olu Kai flips direct from the manufacturer.
Besides, it's dark and we're all the way out by the Bonaventure Cemetery where the red necks are hiding, and no white boy would be seen in total darkness wearing white crew socks.
Then, honestly, the conversation switches to: which one of the boyscouts is the cutest?
The one with long curly hair and freckles or the one with the dark hair that scoops down over his left eye?
is it the one who's pouring water and has obviously never seen four queens dining together before. He never looks up and appears to be gazing at a wet spot on the carpet.
I think.
When our friend, the one who reminds me of Nathan Lane says in a slow, southern pecan pie & honeyed drawl:
And I look over to where he's looking to see scoop eye staring back at us with a blank stare.
So I bust out laughing again and nearly choke on my cocktail. I hate choking on cocktails. Don't you?

Well, they all decide on which boy is their favorite: scoop-eye, while I am busy looking in the window, not at the dark and dreadful nothingness that is outside, but actually at my own reflection: is my hairspray holding well? Are my tits too big? Does my second chin look blubbie, or is it average for a fifty year old fat gay man who's been "married" for 31 years and loves to eat?

I decide it's hopeless. None of the Boy Scouts are going to give me a second glance, so I just allow Tony and the other two to act like they have a chance in hell at one of the...


young men.

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