You're Not One of Those Coke Fiend Fags...

...but you will drink a Diet Coke as an absolute last resort when there are absolutely no Pepsi products to be found within a three-bodega radius. Diet Pepsi is just one of those things that helps make your life that much more enjoyable. Not to mention peppy.

When your parents drive you back to the West Palm Airport, you are happy as a clam while you suck down the two 24 ounce bottles that your mother packed for you. Oh back off with the judgments, it's a long drive with two bickering parents! You only make them stop once during the seventy-five minute drive at a lovely rest area where you notice your first signs of gay life since arriving in the Sunshine State. Scrawled above the urinal by homophobic, latent homosexuals who were obviously suffering from a heat stroke, "Fags Suck Cock!" Duh. And, FYI, we suck them way better and much more efficiently than your girlfriends ever will.

You're feeling a bit guilty (and just about as mature as the eighth grader who wrote the brilliant epitaph above the rest stop urinal), but even though you're in your thirties, you still feel uncomfortable around your Church-Going Catholic parents when it comes to being gay. So instead of saying, "After three days of visiting you in Straighty-Straightsville, I will begin to go into detox and get the Gay Shakes." So you decide to just lie about your departure time and have them drop you off at the airport a day early. A bit sneaky, but this way everybody's happy and your gay ass gets to escape and spend a night in Fort Lauderdale with a boy you met last winter.

You say your goodbyes to your aging parents through the gate of their SUV while they're still arguing over the air conditioning temperature. You grab your luggage and wave goodbye as they argue their way back to Vero. However, moments after they drive away, your cell rings and your friend, Hairy Potter, informs you that he's pulling into the airport. You met Hairy Potter last winter at a bar when you wanted to check out the Fort Lauderdale scene, since then, somehow, the two of you have kept in touch and you decided to short change your elderly parents and spend your last night in Florida with Hairy Potter doing dirty gay things. You're a bit worried about spending a night with a boy you barely remember, but as you hop into Hairy Potter's Acura you are pleasantly surprised at your impeccably good taste in men.

Hairy Potter takes you back to his condo to drop off your luggage, and then you head to a late brunch at Rosie's Bar & Grill. You sit outside amongst lots of muscled gay boys with tank-tops and February tans while you breathe a sigh of relief because after four days of free-flowing Man Boobs and retired straight couples wearing matching outfits purchased at Wal-Mart, you are finally someplace that feels familiar. At least these boys shop at Target... Hairy Potter keeps sneaking looks at you and smiling while you pick at your gay salad. You are actually starving, but since your doting mother has been filling your dinner plates with second and third helpings, you are now officially gay-fat again. Not straight-fat, god no. But definitely gay-fat. You decide you'd rather use up your calorie intake drinking alcohol so you order a few beers.

After brunch, Hairy Potter starts yapping about some Fort Lauderdale Sunday Tea Thing that you kind of roll your "been-there-done-that" New York Eyes at, but when you arrive at VooDoo Lounge you are duly impressed! The space is a-fucking-mazing. Being a Manhattanite you tend to forget what it's like to have space. Space to move around. Space to dance. Space to gossip. VooDoo Lounge is like the final spacious frontier! And you are the gay Neil Armstrong, making one giant step where you don't have to accidentally step on any bitchy Drag Queen toes!

You're almost out of cash so you opt to start a tab rather than be raped by the ATM, so you grab yourself another beer and order Hairy Potter a Grey Goose and Soda even though he didn't ask for one. Hairy gulps it down as he introduces you to his sudden group of friends. You've barely sipped your Amstel when Hairy Potter has finished his drink and asks you if you'd like another. You say, "What the hell," as he asks if he can put the next round for his friends on your tab. The George Costanza in you wants to scream, "Are you insane!" but the gay Martha Stewart in you says, "Of course."

You're dancing to something by Kylie, or possibly even Danni Minogue when Hairy Potter informs you that it's time to go. You're surprised because it seems early, but since Hairy's your host you head over to the bar to close out your tab. The bartender hands you the bill and you are absolutely shocked when you see that your three beers and one Grey Goose and Soda have somehow added up to $96. But you're a bit drunk so you don't make a scene. You begin to wonder how many people Hairy Potter bought drinks for? And then you wonder what vintage of Dom Perignon his freeloading friends were drinking? But you just smile and add a nice 20% tip because, after all, none of this is the cute bartender's problem.

You follow Hairy Potter and his friend to the parking lot and are a bit confused when they get into the friend's BMW instead of Hairy's Acura. Hairy informs you that they're headed to Miami and suddenly it all sounds very exciting. You put on your backseat seatbelt just in case, but before you know it you're pulling into some weird parking lot that doesn't seem so Glamorous even though Fergie's aptly named song is now playing. Hairy Potter jumps out of the passenger seat and tells you to wait there because he'll be right back. The Drunk Driver kind of sings along to "Glamorous" only he spells it without a "U" Finally you ask, "Where did he go?" and Drunk Driver informs you that, "He went to buy coke," even though you're a bit confused because you could really use a Diet Pepsi right about now.

After Hairy Potter scores, you end up going to the lamest gay club in Miami with absolutely no patrons (yet somehow there's still a fifteen dollar cover) and you kind of dance alone waiting for your Floridian hosts while they powder their noses in the Men's Room stall. You order a strong drink or three while chatting with the yawning shirtless bartender until you are eventually dragged outside to the car. They swerve their way back to Fort Lauderdale and end up taking you to several bars where you continue to drink your way out of the mess you've found yourself in. Eventually, BMW Boy drops you off at Hairy Potter's condo around 3am. You're bleary eyed when you get out of the car, but Hairy is still Chatty Cathy. He glares at you as his BMW Boy drives away before he accuses you, "I saw what you did in that bathroom."

Your drunken mind beings to rewind as you wonder if you forgot to wash your hands? But Hairy Potter storms off down his front path while you ask him sincerely, "What did I do in the bathroom?" He sighs dramatically before answering, "Don't pull that bullshit with me. I was there. I saw you kissing that guy!" Now, as usual, it is a given that you are drunk, but you're not that drunk. You ask, "What are you talking about? Who was I kissing?" because you're definitely not the type of fag that forgets a kiss. Ever. Hairy Potter unlocks his door as he informs your sunburned ass, "I saw you making out with that black guy in the bathroom!"

Now, you are certainly drunk, but you're not that drunk. You would definitely remember kissing someone. Anyone. In fact, until moments ago, you were actually looking forward to kissing Hairy Potter, until you realized that he is so coked up that he is imagining things. You follow him inside mostly because you are dying to hear about what else you might have done this evening. But he's pissed. And you end up getting scared because Hairy Potter actually believes all the ridiculous things that he's accusing you of. You want to talk about it, mostly because it's so super upsetting to you, but Hairy wants to go to bed. He tells you to just go to sleep and then he'll drive you to the airport tomorrow morning. You no longer have any interest in spending the night with an insane person who is accusing you of cheating on him even though you aren't dating. That's about the time when you realize that Hairy Potter left his Acura in the VooDoo parking lot so there's absolutely no way he'll be driving you to the airport. So you ask him for the phone number for a Taxi service as he's climbing into bed. He happily recites the number from memory and you call it right away.

You wait in the driveway until the taxi comes to take you to the airport (which doesn't even open until 5am). You pass out at the Delta Counter, waiting to check in and get the hell out of Florida so you can go back home to hang out with the Crackhead you're dating. At least you got a nice tan. Anyway...