Speaking of travel...

The most recent trip was to Geneva. Save your pennies and go, because it's an amazing joint. I have a couple of observations about it, though.

First, bring your Visa. Wait, bring your MasterCard, because Geneva isn't a Visa-Loving country. *shrug* You need a hefty line of credit, because it aint cheap. What do you expect from a town that has as it's primary industry making watches? (Check your Rolex--it says Geneva on it)

Consequently, the city is clean and orderly. Typical of the entire country, normalcy, moderation, and neutrality are key words. Entry to the country was just about as uneventful as it has ever been. The border guard didn't even look at my passport, which is a shame. I like stamps in my passport. It validates me ;-)

But that's not my story. I went off in search of the only gay bar in my tourist guide, called Pretexte. Being typical of most really, really old cities, Geneva is a mess of 2 block-long streets with unpronounceable names and bad/ineffective signage Needless to say, I wandered a great deal.

Anyway, in the area that I thought said bar would be in had a very cute, very drunk boy with an umbrella in one hand and a fruity looking drink in the other. He stopped me on the street, (Since he was cute and drunk, I stopped gladly) handed the drink to me, and asked me to take the cocktail.

I did, but did not drink it. God only knows what was in it anyway. Besides, that I like my boys sweet and my drinks bitter. We chit-chatted for a bit--his English wasn't too bad (something that I am impressed by) and finally he asked why I wasn't enjoying said fruity drink.

I told him that it wasn't exactly my thing. Too many pieces of fruit and chocolate-looking branches, straws and other accoutrement. Then he asked me, in no uncertain terms if I would go back to his place and have rabid sex. [ed. note, my description, not his] I politely declined, and started to hand his drink back to him. I'm just not in the habit of meeting odd fellows on the street and swapping spit with them. I guess I was having a virtuous moment.

Then it happened. Said he: "Is it money you want? I'll pay you." Now THAT is a first. I've never thought of myself as being a prostitute, even in the most bizarre circumstance. I thought it was funny, laughed, and rebuffed him, walking off. I've decided that it's a tremendous ego boost being told that your ass is worth paying for. Go meee!