The University Gay, Lesbian and Bisexual
(UGLBA) Welcomes You Alliance
“Thanks for deciding to come back," Ryan Gibson said. “Did you fall in?”
Macon Brigham looked at Ryan blankly for a moment. “What?”
“You said you were going to the bathroom,” Ryan said.
said. “And now I’m back.” Macon
“You were gone for an hour and a half,” Ryan said.
asked. He was quiet for a moment. “I wonder where I went.” Macon
“Never mind,” Ryan said. Thank god this shift is over in an hour.
It wasn't entirely
’s fault. Macon had been in a terrible car accident several years back and had suffered damage to his short-term memory. That was terrible, and Ryan did feel for him. The annoying thing was that Macon constantly volunteered for things, like sitting at the UGLBA welcome table, and would forget what he was doing halfway through the shift. Even Terri Friedmann, UGLBA steering-committee head and probably the most tolerant person in the group, had lost her patience with Macon . Macon
not being Ryan’s company of choice, it was good to have another person alongside him. Ryan didn’t enjoy being alone among all the other student groups with all the gay, lesbian, bisexual, whatever literature on the table. Not that his fears were founded; Ryan had been at the UGLBA - the “b” for bisexual had just been added the previous Fall- table on the Campus Center Concourse since nine a.m. and aside from double takes, mainly by parents, nobody had stopped by the table either to harass or inquire. Nobody. Some people in the UGLBA argued against having the table at all, as most students who did end up in the group found their own way to the office in the Student Union rather than from the welcome table, but Terri insisted the table be out at the start of every semester. Macon
“Oh, this is won-der-ful,” she said. “If you guys looked any more enthused, I’d order a coffin.” She held out her hand. “Hello, Ryan darling.”
Ryan took her hand. “Hey, Julia.”
Julia Wood. Some people in the UGLBA thought Julia was hysterical; others couldn’t stand her. Ryan was somewhere in-between.
Julia leaned over and straightened out the brochures. “Can’t you fags even keep things organized?” she admonished. “Any fresh meat this year?”
“Nobody,” Ryan said. “What’d you expect?”
“We need more of a hook,” Julia said. “Go-go dancers …something. Maybe I’ll just stand here and wave them over.” She picked up on the fliers printed on pine green paper. “But not with these. These are pathetic. The ski club has more enticing literature”
“Student Affairs nixed Tobe’s fliers as being too racy, and he was so pissed that he refused to make a new one,” Ryan said. “Terri had to make these in a jam with the paper on hand.”
“Well gee; I wonder why Tobe’s design of a guy giving another guy head was rejected.” Julia crumpled the flier up and tossed it over her shoulder. It fell in front of a set of parents.
“Litterbug,” Ryan said. “You couldn’t see anything on the flier. It was all implied. Student Affairs is a bunch of sex-negative prudes.”
“Don’t repeat everything Tobe tells you,” Julia said. The former Toby Beals, film major extraordinaire who had yet to make even a short, insisted that his name be spelled with an ‘e’ after he saw “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” yet had managed to convince only Ryan that it had always been spelled that way. “What do you think about the fliers, Macon?”
“Exactly.” Julia looked around. “For fabulous trendsetters, we are way uninviting. Drab colors. Unimaginatively presented. Good god, these are even worse.” She reached for a pamphlet with Newsletter for the Gay, Lesbian and Bisexual Community in a bold, dark font. “Did some queen hooked to a morphine drip on his deathbed design this?”
“Ouch,” Ryan said. “Not funny.”
“I didn’t say he had AIDS. People do die of other things,” Julia said. “Sabra needs somebody to spiffy up this newsletter.” She took a handful of the ugly green fliers and shoved them into her purse. “Well boys, I’d love to chat all day but I’ve got things to do. Keep up the good work.”
Ryan wanted to leave with Julia, but abandoning
at the table wasn’t a good idea. Instead, he went back to his calluses. Macon
A big guy glanced at the banner as he walked by, then backed up. He looked like either a football player or a frat boy. He studied the literature on the table. “When do you have meetings?” the guy asked, looking at
. Macon didn’t say anything. Macon
Ryan jumped in. “Usually whenever we have a meeting we post it over there by the elevators.” The guy looked over at the elevator bank as if expecting to see something. “Often it’s every Friday.”
“Cool,” the guy said. He picked up one of the ugly fliers and a newsletter. “I can take these, right?” he asked. He looked nervous.
Ryan nodded. “Take what you want. We have plenty.”
The guy shoved them in his back pocket. “Thanks,” he said. “Thanks so much.”
“No problem,” Ryan said. The guy backed up a few feet, then turned around and melted back into the crowd.
“Frat initiation joke,” Ryan said. “I hate those guys.” Now they’d have to be on alert for a bunch of assholes crashing their events as some hazing ritual. Ryan considered suggesting they change their meeting dates.
“We’ll see him again,”
said. He sounded lucid for the first time that day. Macon