Tuesday, February 20, 2001

The new social scene

The Home Depot on a Friday night is essentially just one disco ball and a few designer drugs away from being the hottest nightclub in St. Louis. Actually, the latter isn't really necessary if you just hang out in the industrial solvents aisle and inhale deeply. The sharp spiral into a K-hole can't be nearly as exciting as asphyxiation from benzene fumes.

I'm here to find lightbulbs, actually a particular type of halogen lamp that apparently isn't manufactured any longer, meaning sooner rather than later I'll have to replace the fixtures on my desks at both the office and home unless I can find a source. Still, this store is a boundless source of diversion.

First, of course, there are the men. The place is crawling with daddy types, particularly young daddy types -- the most appealing sort to me -- with toddlers and trim wives in tow. There's a Marlboro man in the lumber department wearing a tool belt and a Richmond Heights police officer in full uniform, meaning we're just a leather queen and an indian brave short of a The Village People reunion. Something about the alchemy of testosterone, sawdust and 17 display kitchens makes this a homo paradise, at least from a scenic design point of view. Hello, Central Casting? Get me manliness! Perfect!

The most surreal aspect, however, are the PA announcements. I've scarcely been in the store half a minute before I hear, "Mr. Powertool, aisle seven. Mr. Powertool, aisle seven." Naturally, I'm curious, but before I can make my way to the designated location, another announcement summons, "Lubricant consultant, aisle 12. We need a lubricant consultant, please, aisle 12."

I did what any healthy, self-respecting gay man would do, of course. I burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

And then I made my way to aisle 12. I could hardly deny my fellow shoppers my expertise in the area.