Seasonal Tact

The last three people I've heard talking while on the elevator have all been complaining about the weather. Standing there nonchalantly with my earphones on but my ipod turned off so that I can hear every word they're saying, I listened to them rip Autumn a new one.

"I hate the Fall!" they complain. "It's cold in the morning and hot during the day."

"I never know what to wear."

"I'm sick of wearing brown for 3 months."

"All the trees are dying. Raking them is such a pain."

"There's too many college kids around now that school has started."

Etc. Etc. Etc.

Call me crazy, but I love the Fall. How can anyone not love it?

The air is crisp and clean. It feels like snow is coming, but it isn't yet. The leaves on the tree-lined streets are shedding their cumbersome weight in firework displays of red and gold. The leaves on the ground make the nicest crunching noise as you walk all over them--like biting into a head of lettuce. The ground gets so saturated with suicidal leaves that it looks like a red carpet rolled out before you.

Students go back to school, triggering "Back to School Sales" that everyone can enjoy--student or not. Dorm furniture--ripe for the taking--fills the streets after trying in vain to fit in closet-sized rooms.

Perhaps my favorite part of Fall--the part that makes others cringe while I giggle with delight--is the fashion.

The bright fashions of Summer are boxed away in basements in favor of more sensible earth colors. Browns, golds, and reds appear on mannequins in store windows. Short shorts, hairy legs, and cleavage stand aside to make way for smart, touchable sweaters and khakis. No jackets needed yet, unless it's for style's sake.

My dark hair, pale complexion, and feces-colored eyes are perfectly complemented by Fall colors. Not only that, the cool Fall mornings and warm days require careful clothing planning. Layering is your friend. Layering is a gay man's dream. It allows for a mid-day wardrobe change. Leaving the house in a t-shirt covered by a fuzzy pull-over sweater, I return home with my t-shirt on and my sweater in my man-purse. When the sun peeks out in the afternoon, it's my cue for a costume change. 2 outfits in one day! What's not to like?

My only bad Fall experience was during a dentist appointment. Wearing my infallible t-shirt/sweater combo, I sauntered into my dentist's office only to discover that his heating system was on the fritz. It was my first dentist appointment in three years. I had never met this man...this "Dr. DeSoto" as they call him. Walking into his office was like skating into an igloo. My nipples stood at attention and could be seen through my multiple shirt layers.

Acting like nothing was wrong, he shook my frigid hand and ushered me into his torture chair. I couldn't tell if I was shivering because of the cold or out of fear that he would chastize me for not going to the dentist in three years--that I had mouth-rot, that my teeth were so riddled with cavities they all needed come out immediately, that they don't have any veneers to replace them with and so I'll have to gum my way through life.

"Let's see what we have here." He muttered into his mask and yanked my mouth open.
I could see my icy breath rising from my gaping maw. While he was prying around my mouth with some sort of incendiary device, I got the chills. He tapped on one of my tusks to check for decay and I shivered, biting down on his fingers. It wasn't on purpose--at least I don't think it was--but he was too busy screaming and bleeding to accept my apologies. He ran to the bathroom to wash off.

Sitting there on his operating table, I was getting a case of the cold sweats. My t-shirt was soaked to my skin, my palms were wet, my hair stuck to my face. I leapt up and started pulling my sweater over my head, desperate for some air. It got tangled on my melon head on its way off. Struggling mightily, I couldn't remove it. It got further lodged and twisted.

I heard footsteps approaching from the bathroom but couldn't see anything. Trying to look casual I went to sit back down in the chair but missed and sat on a tray of dental tools instead. Crashing to the floor and taking the tools with me, I flopped around on the ground like a seal, bare-chested and exposed.

"What are you DOING?" I heard the silhouette of DeSoto shout.

"I'm sorry!" I yelled into my shirts. "I was cold! I mean...hot! And nervous!"

I struggled to my feet, crunching on some tools and hitting my head on the overhead lamp causing it to swivel into a cabinet with a crash.

"We're done here! Please leave!" He boomed.

It took me several minutes to find the door, but I did leave and never came back. It took me two more years to go to a new dentist. I had three cavities, gingivitis, and a loose filling. It was still an improvement over my last visit.