Did I go To College For This?

I pick up a newspaper and see unemployment is up, and there is a dire need for Social Workers in the great Common Wealth of Kentucky. Too many times, I heard, "You are not smart enough for school, or Son, you need to make other plans. That kind of life is not meant for people like you." At work, I heard, "You are too smart for this job. You need to find something else to do that will keep you busy and make you happy." Being a gas station attendant on the third shift is some busy stuff. It's for everyone.

Most people fail in the first week by just trying to stay up that late. Then there's the balancing the register, stocking the shelves, dusting the shelves, finishing the manager's unique checklists, and anything the owner has sent down that needs to be done that can't be done during the day. I could feel how difficult my life was, and I saw these people with educations going to work at different hours with excellent easy jobs that didn't require them to drive in deep snows, come into work even if they are ill. I wanted that life.

So one night, I said, "I want to go to college." My dad almost spewed his food out onto the dinner table in shock. "You, college? You will never make it." I shrunk those words still sting my ears today. Something within me snapped. I said, "No" I don't know what it was that gave me a boost, but I said, "No, I'm going to do this." I started to look around and see what I could find out as far as where to go, how much it would cost. Strangely, it was like the universe heard me and said, "We are going to do this." That's when I found out I could get a grant that would pay for it. I had worked for years, so I was considered old enough to stand on my own and not be on my parents' taxes at the ripe old age of twenty-three.

I then started to find out about the dreaded tests. I was terrible at school tests, but you know what I was willing to learn to get out of the mess I created for myself. Then, I found out there was a simple test for people that had been out of school for a while. So, I said, "Sign me up!" I didn't care what kind of score I made on it; I wanted in, and I was ready.

I went for the test. There were people there my age, all of them nervous wrecks. I sat there and said, "I'm prepared to take this as many times as it takes." I watched a lady next to me. She trembled as she wrote her answers down. I'm sure the instructor thought I was cheating; I was more amazed someone would be that nervous over a test.

I sat there for three hours and wrote like a mad man. I had answers to every question. Finally, I handed in my answer sheet. One of those that the teacher could just quickly score is fill in the tiny blocks with the number two pencil. I started to leave. She said, "Wait don't you want to know our score?" I said, "That quick?" She said, "Yes, we are high-tech now." Joking, I laughed but was extremely nervous. I didn't want the others to know if I failed. I was so confident, you know. How would that look if I bombed?

Before I could say a word, she slipped the paper through a machine, and eight, well done, you passed! I stood there in shock. That was too fast for my system to absorb the shock. And I passed the math section since when was I good at math? I questioned myself. She politely looked at me and said, "Looks like you'll be going to college, sir."

I walked out to my car at the time, sat down, and thought, "Wow," that went way better than I ever dreamed it was supposed to. Maybe this is supposed to be? So, I came home and told my family. My dad sat there, his chin dropped. Little did I know my cousin had also taken the test at a different station the same day. We would find out that we would have classes together later on.

Mom, however, was on the phone in no time clamoring to her sisters and brothers. There were twelve of them so there was a lot of talking that night and that's when I found out my cousin was going to be going to the same school, which was great because my car had broken down. I was thrilled. It felt like things just kept working out and working out. She expressed her concerns about my class load. I had taken a whopping sixteen credit hours, and I passed them successfully with a 3.33 GPA, which I maintained that entire time I was in college.

Then a few days later, a family member came to me and said, "I have this old escort. The water pump leaks, but I'll sell it to you for one-hundred dollars. That was precisely the amount I had. I was due another check the next day I could get insurance. I was thrilled! We made the deal.

I took it to the auto parts store. The manager laughed and said, "You got lucky." I said, "You think so?" I asked, "Why?" He said, "This is going to be expensive joking. That will be fifty cents." I couldn't believe my ears. I handed over the fifty cents and laughed. He even showed me what to replace, and everything was easy to access. Within thirty minutes, I had the washer replaced and had purchased Dura-lube as an extra added security. I added it to the engine oil as the instructions say and let the engine run.

Within an hour, the tiny car was running better than any car I had ever owned before. I had gas money to get to classes, a vehicle. I was set. I started to get several hours in over one-hundred-fifty college credit hours, which is a lot for a community college. That's when my instructor suggested I start looking into more prominent colleges abroad. Oh, that word abroad, how scary.

I toiled with the idea for almost a year before applying to a more prominent university. Having a steady higher GPA, I didn't have any trouble getting into a better college. I thought, oh, sweet freedom. Now I can be me and be free once and for all! The gay country boy is on the loose! I have arrived! My head spun with the fun things I would do with the social gatherings and the awesome new friends I would meet, and the fun we would have. I knew I would be an instant hit.

I stayed away from the cafeteria for a month. I sat for weeks, plotting the fun. I just knew there would be so much fun. One of my friends drives me to the college, helps me move in, and on day one, men are everywhere! All of them are straight football players, baseball players, rednecks, and on day one in the bathroom, all I saw the words "Crackers Suck," I said to myself, "How odd, how bad does the food have to be for someone to write that on the bathroom wall? If the crackers are bad, then what about the rest of the food? My mind danced around visions of mold, stale food, bad meatloaf? I mean, who wants a tummy ache?

I finally build up the nerve to talk to some of the guys on my floor. Not one of them was from Kentucky. Not one of them could understand me. One Asian guy asked me, "You gay?" then mumbled something in his native dialect. I'm sure I don't want to know what it was. His friends cracked up. I sat down on the steps up to my first-floor apartment and wanted to cry.

Boys passed by me, "Sup, old man, you ok?" I wanted to scream. I'm twenty-seven years old! That is not old! Not one gay man insight. If there were gay men around, they kept it hid well. This revelation destroyed me, and again I am alone, my best-laid plans dashed. There is no escaping this isolation! Then I bumped into a young lady. Instantly we hit it off. We talked for a bit, and a few days later, she and I found ourselves chatting again.

She invited me to go to my first-ever gay bar. Finally, relief, I can be with my kind. What will I wear, what should I do? I was so excited. I felt like a virgin all over again! Thankfully, she was younger and more experienced. Having been to several gay bars, I relied on her for expertise. She started advising me, giving me the do's and don't's. Finally, a guide someone that knows what to do and what not to do.

I sat in the car with my fist clenched. We drove for an hour through road work. They were installing those huge lights over the freeway, so traffic was slower than usual. Then, finally, she laughed and said, "Lighten up, it's ok." I'm sure the blood had left my knuckles.

We arrive and get out, walk-in, and the man cards me. I double-take and look at him like, "Really?" He was serious! How flattering! I felt young again! In the background, the DJ was queuing Tina Turner's "Private Dancer" Then it happened the largest woman I have ever seen in my life walks out of a back room.

I almost screamed. My friend grabs me and starts laughing, "It's ok, it's just a Drag Queen!" I said, "What the hell is a Drag Queen?" She tried to tell me through booming music, and that's when it happened. Then the performer dancing to Tina Tuner's "Private Dancer" on stage tragically had the stage split into, going in different directions and her legs going in different directions. Thus, she did the splits landing on the floor with a thud. I stood there in awe, that's when I asked my friend, "Are you sure that's a man?" She had questions at that moment herself. She muttered something and said, "After that, I don't know." Neither of us had ever seen a man do the splits so perfectly.

I walked over and gave her a dollar, which was the equivalent of someone giving a thousand dollars since it was my first time, that was just for her landing being so impressive. I had never seen a Drag Queen, never been to a Drag show, but that was impressive and funny. My sadistic side fought back the laughter, and when her voice said, "Oh honey, laugh, I know you want to." I lost it. That manly voice coming out of that bizarrely cartoonish, almost scary face sent me into a hilarious and memorable laugher. She promptly tried to get up and said, using several expletives, then, "My crotch hurts." My crotch hurt, and I was an empathizing bystander.

What a night, that night I noticed this handsome man kept staring at me. He followed me around. I didn't know if I should say hi, or take up arms. He looked extraordinarily handsome but brutish—larger than myself, more muscular blond, blue-eyed dimples but intimidating at the same time. I wanted to run away from him. My friend laughed and said, "You dummy, you have an admirer." I was astounded by this announcement. "No one comes after me! What do I do?" That voice in my head rang out.

My companion sat beside me, chatting away to my new friend. At the same time, my new friend brought me a drink. We talked for a few minutes. She explained my newness to him. He laughed and said, "So this is your first time to a Gay Bar?" I said, "Yes, it is" The Drag Queen walked by and said, "Don't ask. He saw". I stopped. Couldn't I believe it a sense of humor too? She added, "He gave me a dollar." My friend said, "Oh, cheap are we?" I was speechless. I decided I needed to go to the bathroom.

On the way to the bathroom, the bar was packed, men everywhere. I was in the thick of it! I noticed this beautiful young man. He kept staring at me. I smiled he smiled back. I was just happy everybody seemed friendly. I get to the bathroom, women coming out of the men's room! What is this breach of etiquette? I was terrified! The men around me started laughing, "First time in a gay bar?" I said, "Yes." I didn't know if that was a good thing or not." Suddenly, all my confidence was gone.

Then that young man appeared, smiling. I smiled, then he did the damage. "I don't like older men, hun." I was in shock! What, I smiling? What brought about this rejection unwarranted rejection? I stood bewildered. Then my friend came to my rescue. He brought me another drink, followed by my female friend that said, "It's time for us to leave after you finish your drink." I was ready. What an evening. My mind was so busy processing this I couldn't believe what I had seen. My companion and I slip out the door while my friend is unaware of us leaving.

I sit down in the car and hear a voice. "You were going to leave without saying goodnight?" He smiled at me and shared his name and phone number, insisted on getting mine. Honestly, I was going to leave and not look back or give it a second thought at this point. I just wanted to leave and be gone from that place.

When my companion gets in the car, she starts talking, my friend and I bid our fair wells, and we are off. We proceed home. I am admittedly drunk. We are talking, laughing, still discussing the acrobatic landing of Tina Turner look-alike and laughing.

Then out of nowhere, lights over the road, just like you see in the movies where cars are abducted, lifted, and then dropped down. I sat there in utter horror. "Great, now Aliens!" Then a tiny voice fighting back laughter says, "It's a street light. Calm down." Sure enough, my sanity was restored, but dignity was gone.

I've learned that no matter where you are from, the people you have to get used to you. They will treat you differently at first until they get accustomed to you and your customs. Some may never get used to you, and that's ok. I think about those times they were significant learning events now that I see myself as innocent and silly.