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Extract from the Flagstaff Travel Guides:
Redolent with the charm of both the nineteenth-century Wild West and the twentieth-century heyday of
Route 66
, the small college town of
FLAGSTAFF
ranks among the most atmospheric and attractive places to stay in the entire Southwest. It's split in two by the twin east-west routes of the main drag, Santa Fe Avenue, which was once Route 66, and before that the pioneer trail west, and the tracks of the
Santa Fe Railroad
whose mournfully whistling trains still reverberate through the desert night. Immediately north lies the characterful downtown area, while the lively, low-rent blocks to the south are...
read the whole Flagstaff Travel Guides...
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| Tales : A travelogue |
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| At a quiet and rather charmless bar sat a rather large chap and I sat two stools away in case he thought I didn't know anyone and wanted to chat. I didn't know anyone and wanted to chat and he obliged by quickly asking me for a cigarette. So began an interesting conversation with a Navajo Indian, or Native American as his gracious peers have now branded him, to his abject indifference. Nathan is one of the few Americans who didn't know that the world began in 1776. Nathan lived on a reserve and entertained me with the remaining traditions of his proud people. Apparently his grandmother still wore traditional clothes and he had no idea where England was. I bought the affable and interesting tribesman a beer and congratulated myself for finding such a character. After a while we went off downtown to a club he knew. After all it was the weekend and I had found a friend.
We arrived at the surprisingly energetic club and went through the usual bizarre 10 minute ritual of persuading the 2 bouncers I was 21 when I looked at least 45 from the 10 hour drive. I raced to the bar urgently as I always do to avoid any confrontation over who would get the first round in. I hate to spend money on strangers almost as much as I hate strangers to think I'm mean. The stout aborigine graciously accepted my offer of a drink and asked for another cigarette. He had little else to say but a pleasant chap despite his obvious lack of depth. After a while he bought himself another large beer. Later I bought another round. Myself and the irritating leach wandered over to some available seating and so began our impersonation of two old friends comfortable enough with each others company that we had no need to speak. I was about to realise we weren't the only frauds in here.
I moved my attention seamlessly to the dance floor. It was almost empty. Before long, and out of nowhere, two twenty-something girls appeared and frantically approached each other waving their arms hysterically. I was sure they were long lost sisters although the masses seemed not to have noticed the mayhem. Maybe we'd gate crashed a school reunion? The screams were piercing and animal like. Then began a bizarre and terrifying reunion.
As the two casually chatted, as they would have done over a hazelnut latte, they instantly ground their bodies up against each other, seemingly simulating a kind of lesbian foreplay. One talked into the others left breast in between suckling air. Both pouted and brushed their lips across the others cheeks whilst caressing inner thigh. Perhaps then they were long lost lovers? Dancing as a vertical expression of a horizontal desire has been around as long as music but there was no trace of expression. Here was no mystery and the music was incidental. I looked over at another entangled female pair seemingly in competition with the first. One of the girls thrust from behind, not quite in time with the rappers inane ramblings, at her partner who bent over doggy style. They must have agreed beforehand that one will be wearing an imaginary strap-on dildo or was this just clever improvisation? Just then the display ended momentarily and the second couple looked around, now simulating dancing, equally ineffectually, whilst checking out the effect of their last performance on their publics. To their despair no one was looking. They appeared unappreciated and spent. Perhaps they would have to start taking their clothes off to get the slightest attention in this hellhole? Just before they looked like abandoning the ingrate male population they found a hungry pair of male eyes scanning the floorshow in their direction. The peahens immediately resumed their romance with a greater urgency. Sniffing the opportunity the dog came up behind the first bitch and so began an absurd rhythmic sexual daisy chain.
I roared with laughter and had to pretend my lifeless company had been reincarnated to entertain me with a joke. Within an hour the floor was a seething comical orgy of young people on heat. Women found themselves masturbating against a male leg jammed up against their crotch. Wannabe lap dancers practiced against male and female with no bouncers to enforce the rules.
The game has obviously moved on in America. With competition for attention so fierce in these nightclubs, lesbian simulation has become mandatory to catch the eye of the males, who are free to gratify themselves against any stranger or strangers of their choice. The pervert is finally appreciated and encouraged. I politely refused insistent requests to join the throng and at the end of the night all parted company as if at the end of a communal one-night stand. No strings. No regrets. Till next week. To avoid any further charges I lost my paid escort just before the exit. |
 Posted by User Not Logged In on 11/10/2003 16:07:03 |
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