Yearly Archives: 2009

Last Impressions Linger

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My travels this week brought me to Wilmington, Delaware. I had to drive there through slogs of rain, both directions. It is about a two-hour drive from my home, but with the rain and road spray, the traffic was a bit slower. Most people drive with caution, especially the truckers.

When the conference I attended was over yesterday afternoon, I offered to drop off a colleague at the Amtrak (passenger rail) station so she could return to Richmond where she lives. And that’s where the trouble began….

As I drove up to the station entrance, which was wide open with no vehicles anywhere in sight, my friend said goodbye, got out of my truck and went to the back to get her luggage out. Then this platinum-dyed-blond old female Wilmington cop came to the passenger side of my truck and signaled me to open the window. I did, and this is what she yelled into my window:

“Starting soon we are fining people $90 for stopping here. You can’t stop here. This isn’t a place to stop! We will fine you $90 for stopping here! The place to drop people off is down there around the corner. If you come back, you will get a $90 ticket!”

She said this in her most officious tone and demanding posture with a screechy, nail-scratch-on-the-chalkboard voice.

Oh cripes, dingbat, if I stopped in the wrong place, don’t you think you could have told me that politely — and I would have moved? But noooo… you had to behave in a rude and ugly manner. I’m sure this cop sees people stop in this wrong place regularly. However, her behavior was uncalled for.

It got me to thinking about how last impressions linger. For example, last week, I was annoyed by being selected for “random extra screening” by the TSA while boarding a flight from Kansas City for Charlotte. However, the kid who wanded me just did his job and didn’t say anything. His colleague, an older woman, tried to relieve my annoyance by at least trying to be pleasant, even if I were unhappy. Come to think about it, she was leaving me with a last impression that I will remember. I was mildly annoyed, but mostly because I was delayed getting on my flight for what I thought was an unnecessary screening.

Yesterday afternoon, however, was a different story. What will linger in my mind is that a cop, who willingly or not, serves as a representative of the City of Wilmington, left me with a very sour impression of the city. Will I ever want to return? No… not unless I absolutely have to. But the city is rather decrepit and seedy, so I really have no reason other than business to return if I must. I just hope I don’t have to.

And I hope this cop gets put back into a training course on dealing with the public, as I recommended in a written letter of complaint to the Chief of Police. There are a variety of ways of dealing with the public, and this cop did not demonstrate any ability or knowledge of how to behave appropriately.

Life is short: lighten up, and remember, you may be the last person someone from out-of-town talks to, and they may remember your short encounter for a long time. This is why, for example, I don’t make rude comments to visitors to Washington who stop at the bottom of Metro escalators (they are called “escalumps” in local lingo). They just don’t realize what they’re doing. Smile, show them the results of their action in a light manner, and move on.

From Fetish to Function

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Okay, okay, okay, I hear ‘ya! When I have blogged (see May 2 post) about the term “fetish” in the strict definition of the word, I get feedback that is appropriately saying that I am too clinical in the use of the term, and that it is a generalized word to use when referring to those of us who like to wear leather — for whatever reason.

And yes, my partner could take me to my gear closet, pointing out what some may consider to be an inordinate amount of leather, and say to me, “be honest with yourself: you have a leather fetish. As long as you can afford it and it makes you happy, enjoy.” The commenters are correct, and thanks for the feedback.

Back in the 1980s, when I was acquiring much of my leather gear, I was also beginning to go out to leather-oriented events, bars, and other gatherings of the Leather Tribe. There I was, decked out in full leather, from Muir Cap to boots and all in between. I felt a thrill. And yeah, a certain member below the waist was frequently excited. The leather felt great, and I felt sexy in it. I felt the sexual energy of a mob of leather-clad men equally decked out in full leather.

After I met my partner, when he was a bit more sociable, we frequently would go to the Baltimore Eagle and DC Eagle on a Saturday night. I’d leather up completely, and so would he. We would hop on my Harley and be bad leather-clad biker dudes for the night. We enjoyed it. It was thrilling to be surrounded by other leathermen, especially to watch their envy as we roared up to park the Harley out front in the designated “motorcycle only” parking.

We would attend Mid-Atlantic Leather and a few other local leather-oriented events. While we did not go with other men we met at these places for more clandestine or private activities, we knew what was going on and felt the sexual urges that gay men normally have. We quickly took care of those passions as soon as we got home behind closed doors.

Then, things changed. It happens when you get older and settled into a monogamous relationship. My man turned me on, but I found those turn-ons to occur at times when I wasn’t in leather. My man wore leather less often, yet doing so wasn’t necessary to get me excited. Thus, leather became less and less something we had on during sex. And these days, hardly ever at all.

Further, my partner had several surgeries which made it difficult for him to walk. He could no longer ride as my passenger on my Harley. We stopped being interested in going out for several reasons:

  • leather bars morphed to being a “y’all come” bar, where fewer patrons wore leather, or even boots. The number of guys in shorts and sneakers at these places made them less interesting to me.

  • My partner didn’t want others to see him limping or in pain.

  • My stamina for being able to stay awake late into the night has never been good, and has decreased as I have aged. That bed at 9:00pm looks awfully tempting.

  • Since we couldn’t take the bike to get to a leather bar, the whole process of getting into our truck, driving all the way into town, hunting for a parking space, and then hanging out with sneaker-clad dudes became more arduous than it was worth.

Yes, then, I admit that I had a leather fetish, but now that fetish events, however classified, and fetish venues, however they have changed, are not places we choose to go any more.

Therefore, the leather investment I have made is used to provide protection and warmth for riding my motorcycle, which is still a passion I enjoy. While I may not choose to attend leather fetish events or bars, I am not ready to give up the gear I have acquired which can still be used for a functional purpose while riding my Harley.

That’s really that… from fetish to function.

Life is short: wear your leather!

Bizzare Airports and Airline Incidents

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On Saturday, I had flights from Kansas City to Charlotte, then from there to Baltimore-Washington International Airport, which is my preferred airport in the DC area. I was on USScareways, which once upon a time was a great airline to fly (not any more)… but I digress.

What they call an international airport in Kansas City qualifies, technically, since there is one non-stop a day to Toronto, Canada. But otherwise, this cheesy third-rate airport is outclassed by all the rest. Oh well, it’s small, easy to use, and not well-traveled so there are not crowds or long lines anywhere.

What was plain old dumb to me at this airport is that while I went through full screening by a metal detector and my luggage went through an x-ray — which was observed by four people no less — when it came time to load the plane, the gate agent said, “some of you will be asked to go through a ‘random’ additional screening.”

Their idea of “random” is, “we’re done with this one, who’s next in line?” Of course, I became “the lucky winner.” The kid who wanded me was probably all of 18. His partner was an older woman whose chatty nature, trying to calm my annoyance, even made me more annoyed. The best way to deal with such a situation is to smile and speak only when spoken to, even though what I wanted to say was something along the lines of “how many terrorist have you caught playing these games?” But I didn’t… however, I strongly suspect that they do this for no real reason. They haven’t caught anyone carrying anything onto an airplane that shouldn’t be carried — because he has already gone through the magnetometer, stupid! Arrggghhh… gimme a break.

I finally get on the blasted plane, and of course, all the overhead storage is taken by people who laughed as they walked past me onto the plane. I had to stick my bag way in the back, and then wait for everyone to get off the plane to retrieve it when we landed. But that was not really a problem, this time. I had a 1:20 layover, so I had a margin to accommodate a delay this time.

But wait, there’s more! At Charlotte, a large, spacious, first-class modern airport, I was people-watching. I rolled my eyes at two women who were wearing surgical masks. They’re afraid of catching the flu that’s making the hyper-scare news right now. What they really don’t understand is that masks keep your germs to you — not prevent you from breathing in viruses sneezed by other people. But don’t try to explain science to believers of media hype.

But wait! There’s even more! My flight to BWI was late to be boarded because of all things, a passenger on the previous flight got stuck in the aft bathroom and they had to break the door to get him out. Don’t ask me how that happened. And thank goodness Charlotte is a hub for USAir, so they had mechanics available who could fix or replace the bathroom door.

In all my millions of airline miles traveled, that was the most bizzare reason for an airline delay I have ever heard.

Oh well, I made it home to the arms of my man. That’s what’s most important.

Life is short: keep smiling, despite annoyances.

Chain on Muir Cap?

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A traditional all-leather cap made by the Muir Hat Company has been long-regarded, especially by the “old-guard” who enjoy leather, as the finishing touch to a head-to-boot leather outfit. I have had my Muir Cap for a long, long, time and it still looks and fits great. I wear it for a lot of photos that appear on my website, but that’s about it since my partner and I no longer go out to leather-oriented events, parties, or gatherings.

I continue to see that there is a lot of interest in Muir caps by the number of visitors to that page on my website. It really has a classic, tough-looking appearance.

When new, Muir caps come with a mylar band across the front and top. The company calls it an expansion band. I’m not quite sure of its purpose, but I guess it might help the hat keep its shape when worn.

I replaced both of the plastic expansion bands that came with my hat with metal. I have a chrome band across the front, and a chrome chain across the top. I got the front band from a leather fetish store in Los Angeles in the 1980s. I got the chain in Melbourne, Australia in 1995.

Why did I add these metal items to my hat? I do not remember. I guess perhaps I have seen other guys with metal chains or bands on their hats and thought their hats looked better that way. I noticed a Google search the other day asking a question, “leather cap chain meaning?”

I got to thinking, just what is the meaning of a chain on a Leatherman’s Muir Cap? Is it because the bad-boy biker image includes chains and knives for rumbles? Certainly, that isn’t my image or style. Is it because it makes the hat and its wearer appear to be more tough, like the hat worn by James Dean in some of his classic bad-boy biker movies of years ago? Is it because the contrast of shiny metal against black makes the hat stand out better? Is it because you can see metal on a hat in a dark bar better than a hat that is all black?

Probably a combination of these … but there could be more. What do you think?

Grrrrr: life is short — wear your leather!

Is the Choice a Message?

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I am tagging off a blog post I read on the ‘net written by a man I have not met, but whose analysis was interesting to me.

What he said and also from a comment he received on this post is this:

It is once again the time of the year when motorcyclists begin to populate the roads of Finland. More often than before I find myself pondering whether a leather-wearing motorcyclist is trying to hint at his fetishistic interest in leather. Modern non-leather riding gear with all the technical innovations (Gore-Tex, Kevlar et cetera) is very practical. Choosing leather gear is no longer the obvious default choice it may have been in the past.

Further, the comment he received said:

anyone still wearing the old style gear raises the question of fetishism.

The observations shared in the blog are interesting to me, especially when it is pointed out that more men these days wear riding gear made of practical technical innovations, and not leather.

I got to thinking, then, when I wear full leather, from motorcycle jacket to leather breeches and tall boots, am I attempting to signal my interest in leather? Is such an interest “fetish”?

I point out as I have before, that by definition, fetish means a sexual admiration of an inanimate object. Yeah, I have had sex in leather with my partner. But he’s animate (especially in that situation!)

But I wear leather regularly on my motorcycle (and off) because I find it warm, protective, and I think it looks good. Plus, I have a closet full of biker leather gear, and I want to get the most use out of it. I call it “functional” leather gear, because it performs a function to provide protection and warmth while I ride. I also like the tall boots for the same reason.

Is this a message about a fetish interest? To me, it’s different from that. The message I feel I may be giving is that, perhaps, I am old enough to be among the “old guard” bikers (as well as leatherman) and prefer to wear leather, that’s all. I don’t really care what other people think about me being in full leather when I ride on a cool day. No one says anything anyway. I know I am warm and protected in the gear, and feel that I am getting the value from it for the investment I have made acquiring it.

Your thoughts?

May 1: Must Be Kansas City

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I have had a lot of short trips for work lately. Today I am in Kansas City, Missouri, USA. I am completing Day 2 of a major conference that I am running. It is going well, but keeping me very busy. The hotel staff are wonderful and very helpful everywhere I turn. Generally that’s true of everyone I have met in Kansas City. Genuine Midwestern helpful charm is the norm.

The city itself has a character, though, of just “dying” after 5pm. I looked out my hotel room window at 6, and there were no cars on the streets as far as the eye can see. I am assured that people are here. You just can’t see them. They all skedaddle home after work. Come to think about it, I do that too back home in DC.

KC is known for barbeque, which is the bane of my existence. Being “over-barbequed” here last summer, I was briefly hospitalized. I am finding alternatives that are compatible with my sensitive internal system on this trip. Man, the steak last night was great!

Tonight I will be having dinner with two guys I met through “BOL”. Very nice men, and who like boots as I do. We will entertain Grandma (one of the guy’s grandmothers) and catch up on our respective lives. Then they will extend their Midwestern hospitality by taking me boot shopping at Kleinschmidt’s tomorrow. I had a great experience with them taking me there last summer. With over 11,000 pairs of boots, this Bootman will be in heaven. Don’t know if or what I may get, … check back… news at 11 (well, in a few days, anyway.)

Meanwhile, I “only” brought two pairs of my own boots to wear. My recently purchased Lucchese Ostrich cowboy boots, and a pair of Dan Post Ostrich Leg boots. They go well with the clothes I have to wear at this event. (Thank goodness, no jacket or tie!) Some of the men in the group are wearing boots, too, including several law enforcement types in tactical boots.

Life is short: wear your boots!

G’Bye, Starsucks

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It’s all my fault, blame it all on me. I just read the following in a local blog:

The latest round of Starbucks store closings hits East County, with close-by locations soon to shut down among 300 worldwide.

[Photo from the ‘net; I’m not in it.] Both of the soon-to-close Starsucks locations are close to where I live. Okay, I’m not a wuss, I can take it: blame me! I really don’t like the urban guppie/yuppie-ism to which Starsucks appeals, and the almost zombie-like drones who fall for it and spent $5 on a cup of coffee! Are they nuts or just made of money? (probably both. Just check their cell phone bills.)

Did I have something to do with the closing of these two stores because I never patronized them?

… I doubt it. But will I miss them?

Nope.

Life is more simple and cost-effective when we do things like prepare our own meals and brew our own coffee at home. In a month, you can save the world by donating the money you save to a good cause (or two, or three.) Donating to “good causes” is a great appeal to the save-the-planet guppies.

Blog Post 400

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I’ve really gotten into this blogging thing… just a daily thought about a variety of things that compose my life.

In reviewing how the blogging has been going, here are some things I have learned:

  • Write when it comes to you, and schedule it for future posting.

  • Blogger is owned by Google and seems to auto-index as soon as your post “goes live.” Thus, you suddenly get a lot of visitors to your blog who use Google to look up certain key words that match what’s in your post. Google seems to favor with higher ranking key words on more recent blog posts.

  • You get many more visitors to a blog post than you may think. My average is 500 unique visitors per day, from all over the world.

  • People who live in your town will find you, and read your blog almost daily, but never reveal themselves to you. That’s just part of internet behavior that bloggers have to accept.

  • Some people will “follow” you publicly, and some will follow you privately. It works both ways.

  • When your life gets really busy, it’s helpful to have a pre-written “bank” of blog posts.

What’s been most popular on this blog recently as well as over time? These titles:

How do I know this? I have simple tracking software that provides counts of visitors to blog posts, but be assured, it does not reveal your identity.

Life is short: Keep blogging! Share your joy with others!

Hey, Dad

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Today, April 28, is the date when my father died so many years ago. I remember that day clearly, though I’d rather not. And it was a Tuesday… just like today. My sister woke me up, told me the news about how he had died a few hours earlier at the hospital, and took me and my siblings who were at home to her house.

Rather than be morose, I decided that today of all days, I would remember my Dad and the things he liked to do and share with us kids.

I made arrangements a few weeks ago to eat lunch at his old office, though I don’t know anyone there now. I will go visit the reservoir where we used to go fishing, and skip a rock. I will sit in our garden and admire God’s handiwork. My Dad didn’t have much of a green thumb, but he loved to spend time in the garden. He would love what my partner has done with ours.

I will communicate with my family, and share our love. I’ll drop by the cemetery, and bring some flowers that he and Mom liked. I’ll sit cross-legged and have a chat with him about life.

I have benefited a great deal from my Dad, in learning, loving, caring, thinking, and yeah: smiling. Thanks Dad for everything — especially for sharing your smile and encouraging us to do so, too.

Life is short: if your Dad is alive, give him a call, pay him a visit and give him a hug, let him know you’re thinking of him. Don’t wait for just Father’s Day: your Dad is your father every day. Say those magic words: “I love you.” It really means a lot.

From Winter to Summer

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A while back, I conducted a poll on this blog when I was wondering about getting a new pair of cowboy boots. Eleven visitors voted, helping me choose among three choices: Lucchese full quill ostrich boots, Nocona caiman boots, or Dan Post wingtips. The majority confirmed my thinking, and helped me select this pair of Lucchese cowboy boots (more pics on my website, here). I wore them yesterday when my partner and I did a very rare thing: we went out to dinner. We celebrated our anniversary at Outback Steakhouse. There’s one close to us, and enabled us to use some gift cards that each of us had received. We enjoyed our dinner, but the quality of the food has declined. Then again, I may only eat there once a year, so it’s hard to tell.

While I was considering wearing a full leather suit, when the temperature on the thermometer read 90°F (32°C), the leather remained in the closet and I went “cowboy.” I pulled on these Lucchese boots and my favorite Wranglers and a Harley t-shirt, and that was that. The boots are cool and comfy.

Man, we have gone from winter to summer, as I thought we might. Last week it barely broke the 50°F (10°C) range. However, in the past three days, it’s been hovering in the very warm range. Good thing, though — our trees are finally fully leafing out. As my partner and I were having our usual snuggle at dawn on Saturday, we looked out the window and both remarked simultaneously that we though the leaves were slow in developing. It just took persistent warm weather for the leaves to pop. (And the tree pollen, uggghh.)

Now that it has finally warmed up (and it is not zero or thereabouts with rain or severely damp roads in the morning), I am riding my Harley regularly to the Metro to get to work. Yippie! That’s one good thing about the warmer weather returning… bad thing was that it became so hot in the bedroom last night (not necessarily for reasons you may suspect), we had to break down and turn on the air conditioning. Go figure… no middle. In past years, I have always enjoyed sleeping with the windows open from mid-April to May, and listening to the birds greet us awake in the morning. But as our Koala reminds us, “our seasons are backwards.”

Thanks again for visiting this blog, and share joy with someone today! (Keep ’em wondering LOL!)