Gosh was it only 30 years ago I was standing in front of that naughty little night club on Walton Way, kissing a girl ? I remember the moment in that frozen forever in my senses way. She and I were waiting on the sidewalk for her brother to bring the car around. Great idea we thought, since we were such refined ladies in those days.... er... sorry veered right of track there. We waited right as the drunken crowd had been flushed from the bar for the night. We had leaned into one another and my quivering 19 year old lips pressed into her thick sexy ones. The rushing thrill in my chest had me in a vice-tight grip for all of 13 seconds. Thirteen seconds such a short time until the first clue that all was not well in my imaginary lesbian paradise. "Queers! Look ! " and of course that melted into a cacophony afghan throw blanket of slurs. I was so naive I had even planned to ignore it. Then it became rocks and some pieces of broken brickbats. The beer bottles were added I guess to make a pretty sound. Of course they did, across the windshield as her brother had arrived at a moment that made the plymouth satellite look like a rescue ship.
This story is not at all a sad tale or a bad memory, because years later I saw something that made the same rushing thrill in my chest. The thirteen second thrill, not the rest of it. Gosh was it only ten years ago? Walking up the sidewalk, it was about the same time of late night early morning. There were a few partying folks still around in front of a place I knew well. I saw two girls kissing . It was great. No one would have even thought of harassing them, much less throw things. It was longer than thirteen seconds. It was longer than the ten years it has been. It will be the thrill I was robbed of thirty years ago. I guess Joni Mitchell was telling me the truth when she said " In France they kiss on main street " and I am so happy I took a few rocks and bottles for those two beautiful girls.
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I remember my first kiss from a girl. I was 15. She and I went to the Filmore to see a punk show and were chased down the street for wearing flannel shirts. This was in grunge's exploitation hey day, when the corporate trickle down allowed us girls living in suburbia to buy flannel shirts and manic panic at wall mart. We sought comfort from being called out as posers in each other arms and made out in my room. I think there were Cool Whip canisters involved, it was quite electrifying.
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