I was plotting book two of the futa road trip series when a funny thing happened. The book revolves around Omaha so I was researching places for my characters to have sex in. (Sorry… I’m a very simple writer LOL.). When I was in the military one of my early assignments was the SAC Band in Omaha. (SAC stood for Strategic Air Command, which doesn’t even exist anymore. It’s something else now.)
Anyway, during this time I was utterly confused, sexually. I considered myself gay. I lived in the barracks (which used to be a cavalry horse stable during frontier times) at Offutt AFB. Almost every night I’d hop on my little Honda 350 motorcycle and drive to an old hippie area called, I think, The Old Market. That area was where the gay bars were congregated. At least at that time.
So one of my band friends, really gay, fell in love with me. (Ahhh, I’ve had a life.) He was a little guy, much smaller than me. I was in charge of audio-visual presentations and had to go to another building to check out a film projector. Unbelievably heavy. My little lover was determined to carry it for me for many blocks. I thought he was going to die… face red, sweat pouring off his face, switching hands trying to even out the weight. And he wouldn’t let me help him. Sweet guy.
We used to go to a place called The Cave Under the Hill, with the Hill Hotel over it. We would drink, enjoy whatever the show was that night, whether dancing or a drag show, then rent a room in the hotel. How in the world we never got caught by military security I’ll never know.
One night I got picked up by a guy who took me only God knows where to his house where he had his way with me. (I’m sure we had deep philosophical discussions. How slutty do you think I am?!) We took his car and left my motorcycle parked at the gay bar across the street from the Cave. I woke up something like 3 in the morning knowing I had to get back to base. He was too drunk to wake up (I sure could pick ’em). Unable to find a phone I decided to take his car, drive back to the bar, call the barracks to have my friend pick me up, follow me back to the guy’s house, back to… well, you get the idea. I actually thought this would be a wise thing to do.
I get stupider. On the drive to the bar, I came to a red light. It’s oh-god-early in the morning, no one else is on the road. Not a car light in sight. I drive through the red light. I guess I didn’t see the police car sitting around the corner. He saw me, though.
So now I’m standing outside the car facing the hood trying to explain why I don’t know the name on the car’s title, I don’t know his phone number, and why I don’t even know the house address. As soon as I told him where we met — the Cave — he just handed my license back and told me to obey the signals. <whew> That could have been real bad.
A confusing time for me, that gay thing. I knew it didn’t make me happy. It was a decade before I started seeing a therapist to figure me out. But it certainly provided some adventures to remember LOL.