Over the Rainbow

When I was in college, my friend Four Eyes and I used to spend every Saturday night in Wonder Bar. Wonder bar was a “mixed crowd” which meant gay men and straight women in equal numbers. Occasionally a straight man might wander in, but he would be so beset upon by the queens, it wasn’t worth the fight. I was there for the fags anyway. They appreciated my makeup and clothing choices instead of just using my cleavage as a drool cup. Shortly after we arrived, Four Eyes would abandon me and stare at some guy with the intensity of a serial killer. Because Four Eyes was so blind that he had the equivalent of the Hubble telescope on his face my job was to make sure that what appeared in his blurred visions as a handsome stud actually was so. After I had confirmed that the target was appropriately fuckable, I would be dismissed to find some other fag to make conversation with. One night, Four Eyes was engaged in a particularly long conversation with a target. I was so tired, and all the couches were taken when a fifty year old leather queen leapt up and said, “Oh my God you look like Judy Garland! Oh, Judy needs to sit down.” He pawed two of the men next to him. “Move! Judy needs her beauty rest.” When Four Eyes returned, the Leather Queen chastised him for ignoring me. “Not many of us are lucky enough to have friends who look like Judy Garland. You must take better care of her. She’s so young. Look at this face.” Four Eyes peered at me. I knew even in close proximity I would appear fuzzy at the edges. I thanked my defender, and we left. One we were on the street Four Eyes asked, “Who was that?” And because I didn’t know I had to respond, “Oh, you know, just one of my many fans.”