Going Down in La-La Land Read Online Free PDF Page B

hanging out at the right places.
    It quickly became apparent Sarah had become the ultimate fag hag of West Hollywood. It seemed as though people in LA ran around in packs, and she was the star of this one. She was almost like their mascot in a way. I thought it was a little creepy how they cooed over her, and somewhat of a waste since nothing would ever become of it in terms of an intimate relationship. Shit, I was a relatively attractive gay man, come hang over me for chrissakes!
    Before leaving the gym, Sarah and Stephen convinced me to join, telling me it was the place to work out in LA, one of the “do’s” on Stephen’s list.
    “ It’s the best gym in town. Everything else is tired and lame,” he said, urging me to sign on.
    I reasoned success in my new surroundings was all about getting out there and meeting people for me at this point.
    “ Connections baby. Get those connections and work them.” The words sailed through my mind. Damn it, I was here to make a success of myself and determined to do it. I needed to be around the right people, no matter how obnoxious they might be.
    Besides, the only people I really knew well all came here. I sat down with the faded sun-kissed salesman, signed the paperwork, and gave Crunch my credit card number, which until this point I swore would be for emergencies only.
    So much for sticking to that promise, I thought while whipping the plastic out a week after my arrival. I tried to tell myself what a great business move I was making as Mr. Buff Surfer filled out my membership contract. But I knew I was lying to myself.
    A few days later, I really started to wonder what I had been thinking. The parking lot was always full. The street parking around the complex was by permit only. Sarah even warned me not to park at the strip mall across street.
    “ Sistah, one night McDonald’s had my car towed. I was like, freaking out. Ohmigod, I was so pissed off,” she went on between breaths at the treadmill, further traumatizing me about the parking situation.
    I was already paying a small fortune to work out at a gym that was proving an obstacle course to get to. When driving into the lot you had to grab a ticket, which in turn you had to have stamped, or “validated,” before leaving.
    My second time there I had already forgotten to get my ticket stamped, and the parking attendant actually made me park my car again and go all the way back up.
    “ Either you go back up or pay me twenty dollars,” she ordered flatly, leaving me feeling quite humiliated and annoyed. It felt like I was caught walking the halls in grade school without a bathroom pass. I also found out that after two hours passed, you could expect to start paying for parking, on top of the small fortune you had already paid for membership.
    Getting to this fucking gym was a bigger workout than my actual workout. Whoever planned this place must have been smoking some serious crack. It was a functional disaster, a nightmare of architectural planning.
    On the plus side, there were plenty of attractive guys there. A little bit of locker room cruising, but not too much. I wasn’t about to start any funny business in the steam room. If they put George Michael in handcuffs here, they sure as hell could do the same to me. I could just see myself being led out of the place in front of everyone, all my prospective connections down the drain. The shame of it! I would be fodder for Stephen and his gang. I could just imagine their talk.
    “ Oh sistah, he didn’t waste any time getting busy!”
    Besides, nothing came close to the cruising at American Fitness gym in Chelsea, back in Manhattan. That place was an ongoing orgy, and most of the guys partaking in the festivities were very yummy. Everyone knew monkey business went on, but nobody cared. All the members were cool about it. Either you participated or ignored it. And yes, I had more than my share of additional workouts there. I even went so far as to plan my workouts