The other day I went to pick up Pod-Man. He attends the Columbia Collage Arts day camp and so we were coming back to Red Star on the Brown Line. At about Lake/Wabash he asked what I was reading:
Pod-Man: Are you reading the queer newspaper?
Dutchman: Yeah — it’s free.
Pod-Man: What are you reading that for? You don’t read everything that’s free.
Dutchman: Checking out this gay marriage thing.
Pod-Man: What about it?
Dutchman: Well, there’s got to be a grandfather clause.
Pod-Man: A what?
Dutchman: Do you think I would have married your mother, denied my true nature, and set myself up for nineteen years of living hell if I could have married Brian back in 1985?
[People start to look at us …]
Pod-Man: I guess not …
Dutchman: Shit no! Now, if they go changing the rules in the middle of the game, then don’t I get a do over?
Pod-Man: So — are you going to move to Vermont and marry Brian?
Dutchman: Faster than the wind out of a duck’s ass!
[Now they’re really staring …]
Pod-Man: Are you two going to dress like sailors?
Dutchman: In Vermont? Of course not! We’ll dress like lumberjacks.
Pod-Man: Do I get to live with you?
Dutchman: You don’t want to live with women do you?
Pod-Man: Will you let me smoke cigars?
Dutchman: When we’re not abusing you …
[At this point, I think everyone on the car was listening in …]
Pod-Man: What kind of abuse?
Dutchman: Now — If you had a word for it, then you’d go telling the authorities all about it, wouldn’t you?
Pod-Man [Evincing mock guilt]: I guess …
[The train pulls into Chicago Avenue.]
Dutchman: Our stop, let’s go!
[I pat his ass on the way out]
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