Palm Springs Weekend

(Wasn’t that a movie in the 60’s with Troy Donahue and Connie Stevens?)

So, here’s a random observation.

I’m taking a break from the noise at Melvyn’s, a well-known Palm Springs drinking establishment, when a handsome young man joins me. My flirtation devices activate automatically, but the guy turns out to be gay. Duh. I said he was handsome, didn’t I? I said he was young, didn’t I? This is Palm Springs, for God’s sake.

When I go back inside, I notice a couple sitting by the piano. She’s social security age and frumpy but must have an attractive bank account. I conclude this based on her companion, a Johnny Cochran lookalike doing his best imitation of an aging James Bond, complete with white dinner jacket.

Meanwhile, two young girls are all over each other at the bar.

Then a woman passes me on her way to the ladies’ room. She’s 80 if she’s a day. I know this because she moves with the precision of a person whose joints ache. Otherwise, she’s dressed, coifed, and stretched (wink, wink) much younger. Clearly, she’s on the prowl. But who’s her prey? Not the gay guys, not the gay women, not the gigolo who’s already spoken for.

Basically, the cast of characters in Palm Springs consists mainly of 1) ultraconservative old-money widows, and 2) young gays and lesbians. I can’t help but wonder if mixing ‘em all together doesn’t get a bit confusing at times.

Reminds me of a bad game of Scrabble. You know, like when you’ve got a rack of nothing but vowels? Or, you’ve got the Q but no U?

Somebody needs to gather all the pieces and shake again.