I Wish They All Could Be Oshawa, Ontario Girls

June 29, 1999

Canada is America without the sharp teeth. It is America with all the junk filtered out. It is a fast river, a jagged mountain, a clear lake, and a stand of pines. And this past weekend, it was four smiles, eight boobies, one convertible, and a smattering of glitter makeup.

It was midnight on Princess Street in Kingston, Ontario when my buddy Damian and I were passed by four young, laughing beauties cruising up the hill in a black drop-top.

'Homoha!' I shouted with both arms raised over my head. As I'd hoped, their car came to a halt and a pretty blonde shouted with a smile, 'What did you just say?'

The adrenaline mixed with the Molson in my brain.

I said "Homoha!" That's how gay guys say hello in Hawaii.

The pretty blonde girl's eyes widened with the possibility that she'd just met someone fun. 'What's the response?' she asked.

"Maswallo!" I replied, straight-faced.

The girls laughed. My heart fluttered. And to borrow a phrase from Mr. Springsteen--the night busted open into a million happy possibilities.

For the next two hours we belted out jokes, batted flirtatious eyes, and wallowed in the wonderful warm goo of the newness of something very pleasant and unexpected. Damian and I never left the sidewalk and the girls never left their car, so there remained a feeling of transience--the kind of feeling one gets at a rest area off the highway. That transience later blended with urgency as we all held onto the night as long as we could before we'd have to move on, back into the realities that would arrive with the dawn.

Lucky genetics, proper cosmetics, regular calisthenics, and solid academics combined to make four lovely young women. Lori, Jennifer, Erin, and Kim. They were visiting Kingston from Oshawa, Ontario. Lovely women. Absolutely lovely. Lovely to look at. Lovely to listen to. When they laughed at one of my jokes, I loved them all. When Lori flashed her glittered eyelids, my knees buckled and I wanted to kiss her right then and there. They were looking for fun, and Damian and I did our best to give it to them. "Homoha!" we yelled all night much to our own bemusement.

Yes, my friends, it was truly a magical night. As Vera Lynn sang nearly half a century ago, The streets of town were paved with stars. It was such a romantic affair.

Not at all like the night, two summers before, two blocks down the hill, on the second floor of 86 Princess Street, when a shy 19-year-old named Tori accepted $300 (Canadian) to take my mind off of Andrea, who, a few months earlier had left me for a better life. It was one of the darkest moments of a very dark time. But the darkest hour really is just before dawn. And this past weekend, at midnight on Princess Street in Kingston, Ontario--in the company of Lori, Jennifer, Erin, and Kim--the sun was high in the sky and I had the pleasant realization that the wounds had finally healed.

Broadway Jim Jenkins

		I Wish They All Could Be Oshawa, Ontario Girls
		June 29, 1999 Canada is America without the sharp teeth. It is America with all the junk filtered out. It is a fast river, a jagged mountain, a clear lake, and a stand of pines. And this past weekend, it was four smiles, eight boobies, one convertible, and a smattering of glitter makeup. It was midnight on Princess Street in Kingston, Ontario when my buddy Damian and I were passed by four young, laughing beauties cruising up the hill in a black drop-top. 'Homoha!' I shouted with both arms raised over my head. As I'd hoped, their car came to a halt and a pretty blonde shouted with a smile, 'What did you just say?' The adrenaline mixed with the Molson in my brain. I said "Homoha!" That's how gay guys say hello in Hawaii. The pretty blonde girl's eyes widened with the possibility that she'd just met someone fun. 'What's the response?' she asked. "Maswallo!" I replied, straight-faced. The girls laughed. My heart fluttered. And to borrow a phrase from Mr. Springsteen--the night busted open into a million happy possibilities. For the next two hours we belted out jokes, batted flirtatious eyes, and wallowed in the wonderful warm goo of the newness of something very pleasant and unexpected. Damian and I never left the sidewalk and the girls never left their car, so there remained a feeling of transience--the kind of feeling one gets at a rest area off the highway. That transience later blended with urgency as we all held onto the night as long as we could before we'd have to move on, back into the realities that would arrive with the dawn. Lucky genetics, proper cosmetics, regular calisthenics, and solid academics combined to make four lovely young women. Lori, Jennifer, Erin, and Kim. They were visiting Kingston from Oshawa, Ontario. Lovely women. Absolutely lovely. Lovely to look at. Lovely to listen to. When they laughed at one of my jokes, I loved them all. When Lori flashed her glittered eyelids, my knees buckled and I wanted to kiss her right then and there. They were looking for fun, and Damian and I did our best to give it to them. "Homoha!" we yelled all night much to our own bemusement. Yes, my friends, it was truly a magical night. As Vera Lynn sang nearly half a century ago, The streets of town were paved with stars. It was such a romantic affair. Not at all like the night, two summers before, two blocks down the hill, on the second floor of 86 Princess Street, when a shy 19-year-old named Tori accepted $300 (Canadian) to take my mind off of Andrea, who, a few months earlier had left me for a better life. It was one of the darkest moments of a very dark time. But the darkest hour really is just before dawn. And this past weekend, at midnight on Princess Street in Kingston, Ontario--in the company of Lori, Jennifer, Erin, and Kim--the sun was high in the sky and I had the pleasant realization that the wounds had finally healed. Broadway Jim Jenkins