Observation from a weekend in Palm Springs, Calif.
The city (a distinction I apply liberally, since it seemed more like a town than a city) was a Mecca for geriatrics and gays. Quite the combo of demographics. The theater downtown had just let out its Sunday matinee when Ally and I drove past, and judging by the swarms of purple dresses and corresponding ruby colored chapeaus, there must have been a Red Hat Society convention going on. Every other shop had a rainbow flag out front, and we had to pick Ally's jaw off the floor of a "specialty shop" when she opened a happy wedding card that had an, um, revealing picture on the inside of a seemingly innocent greeting. To give you a flavor of our night out in Palm Springs, I present the following conversation:
SETTING: Walking along the sidewalk of a well-lit street late at night with my mother and younger sister.
MY MOTHER: So, why do you think we see more gay men on the street, but not hardly any lesbians?
ME: I don't know. It seems to me that in our culture, lesbians get the shaft...ummm [tries to stiffle laughter]...I mean they get the short end of the stick...er...I mean [errupts in a fit of laughter]
MY MOTHER: You'd better not put that on your blog.
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