The Challenge

Hi, my name is Kevin.

BRAD: Introductions are entirely unnecessary.

Welcome to Friday night.

BRAD: I promised myself I wouldn't drink...heavily.

This is my friend Brad. We're on our way to Prisms. It's the first nice night of the year, and for once, I don't mind walking the eight blocks from the only parking spot I could find.

BRAD: Why don't you pay for parking?
ME: Some of us aren't trust fund babies, Brad.
BRAD: God, I hate being friends with the poor.

I keep Brad around because he's good for a laugh--and free Sprite at the bar.

BRAD: I'm embarrassed for you when you order that.
ME: Some of us like to keep our bearings.
BRAD: I think I lost mine at Boston Pride last year.

As we passed a car right near the club, we could hear rustling in the backseat.

ME: Tell me someone is not--
BRAD: Yup.
ME: In a hybrid.
BRAD: Apparently the driver's not the only one doing his part.

We went up to the top floor and ordered our drinks.

BRAD: When did being gay become the same thing as being trashy?
ME: Not all gay men are trashy.
BRAD: It doesn't take that many bad apples, and last time I checked, the barrel was looking pretty rotten.
ME: Most guys just need a push in the right direction, and they'd be fine.
BRAD: Maybe--if you're talking about pushing them off a cliff.

A gaggle of gays near us burst into laughter. They seemed to be laughing at a clearly drunk boy who was making an idiot out of himself near the door.

BRAD: I can't tell who's worse--the drunk or the catty bitches making fun of him.
ME: Clearly the bitches. We all make mistakes.
BRAD: Kevin, please--
ME: November 8th, 2007 ring a bell, Brad?
BRAD: Point goes to you.

I looked around the room and surveyed the microcosm that is Prisms on a Friday night. Yes, there were many bad examples of being gay, but there were also people walking the fence--people who just needed someone to guide them.

Someone who's fallen off the fence a couple of times himself...

ME: I bet I could turn some of these people around if I had the chance.
BRAD: That sounds like a bet in the making.
ME: I'm not making a bet with you, Brad.
BRAD: It doesn't have to be for money. Just pride.
ME: Fine.
BRAD: How many converts are you going to need?
ME: I bet I could do four before the end of summer.
BRAD: All right, but I get to pick the four.

This was dangerous. Brad isn't known for pulling punches. Still, I didn't want to show weakness.

ME: Go ahead. Pick from anybody in this room.

Brad immediately pointed to a boy sitting in the corner.

BRAD: Wallflower over there.

He was sitting in a chair trying to not cute but inconspicuous, which, by the way, never works.

BRAD: I believe his name is Aaron.
ME: I'll take him. He's clearly new to all this, so it won't be like I have to break him of any bad habits.
BRAD: Or he could be a serial killer.
ME: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Pick my next victim, Bradley.

This time he looked around a little bit more, then settled on the group of bitches.

BRAD: Him.
ME: Who him? You pointed at an entire group.
BRAD: Right in the middle.
ME: The one cackling like he just laid an egg?
BRAD: With the bling and the head full of hair gel.
ME: Ugh...

That would be Anthony, one of the key figures in the Dick Clique--Providence's least friendly group of CBQ's.

ME: You want me to help Anthony?
BRAD: Help? No. I believe we're looking for transformations here, aren't we?
ME: You're a bastard.
BRAD: No time for insults. I have two more picks.

He seemed to be considering how to make my job that much harder. Then he chose.

BRAD: Her.

I thought he was just referring to some especially queenly guy, but then I noticed that he meant an actual girl.

ME: Um, Brad--
BRAD: You said anybody in the room.
ME: This is supposed to be me as a guru for gays.
BRAD: That girl needs a guru. Look at her.

She was really drunk, and falling all over herself. She was with two guys who seemed to be trying to distance themselves from her as much as possible. And she was yelling out something--clearly trying to be heard in a room full of people who didn't want to listen.

ME: I'll make an exception.
BRAD: Great. One left.

That was when Backseat Barbie showed up.

He walked into the room, straight at the Dick Clique, and punched Anthony in the face.

BRAD: I thought Brawl Night was tomorrow.

I pulled Brad towards the door as the Dick Clique descended on the little guy. I guessed his name was AJ since he was wearing a shirt that said--'AJ is Sex Appeal.'

BRAD: I bet he made that himself.

The brawl was quickly broken up, but not before someone spilled a drink on my new girl pupil. Her friends didn't even offer to mop her up.

GIRL: God, leave it to me!
GIRL'S FRIEND: Oh relax, Alicia.
GIRL'S OTHER FRIEND: Take a valium.

Alicia--I made a note of that.

ME: I should introduce myself to Wall Flower.

But when I looked around, he was nowhere to be seen. With my luck, the brawl had scared him right back into the closet.

BRAD: I've got my fourth pick.
ME: And who would that be?

He motioned towards the door where AJ is Sex Appeal was being dragged out by a bouncer.

ME: You've got to be kidding me.
BRAD: Oh, you should get along fine. After all, you drive a Buick.

The challenge had begun.