Day Four:3 pm
Day four, 3pm
We are in the thick of it now. Kansas. Our first taste was the finest rest stop I have ever seen, let alone used. So Kansas. However, our hearts were not at rest earlier in the day. Last night we lost one of our own. A young man of 26 left his room at midnight, alone, and never came back. Everyday, the bus mommies give us the daily drill on the buddy system, how we have no choice but to sacrifice our individual rights for our safety and our mission (yes, they actually say that). This is usually when I reach for the Ipod. Yet, this morning when we loaded the bus at 6:30 am, there was nothing but bad news. And, the first flashes of anger. We older dykes just could not comprehend how someone could be so irresponsible! How dare he wander off after we had gone over the importance of the buddy system over and over and over again. And what if he was hurt? Or worse? How could we just leave, not knowing? We had a responsibility to him, even if he had violated his to us. He is ours. Our child. We are family. Damnit!
I had a feeling that it was going to be OK. I’ve been working on Castro Street for six years. Been around a lot of dick. I know how it is. Yet, you just never know…and you worry until you do.
We had to get on the bus. We decided to leave a couple of people behind to keep checking hospitals and work with the Denver LGBT Center and police until we found him. He is ours. Our child. We cannot abandon one of our own. Laramie is still a fresh wound in our hearts.
Then, our reporter from PlanetOut, Karen, reluctantly came to us with more bad news. She had to leave the bus. We are hoping that all she is feeling is the altitude. But again, we have no way of knowing. Our left-behind angels will be doing double duty in Denver.
We left Denver not knowing. Into the void of Kansas. And, the good news is that 5 hours after leaving Denver, he who was lost has been found. And will be flogged upon his return. We continue to hold good thoughts for our comrade. Our wordsmith.
Hopefully, now that (please Goddess) the drama du jour has passed, the lull of the wheat fields will give us quiet rest. Very few speeches on board today: the process quota has been met.
And now, back on message: This morning in Denver, bus riders who have international partners spoke at length. Heartbreaking stories of forced exile all because of who you love. Trust me when I say that all of us have a lot of learning to do. Even we who call ourselves activists take far too much for granted. You just don’t know how it is until you’ve been there.
The same can very much be said for this road trip. Everyday I am reminded that it is the teachers who are doing the learning.
Tonight, the fat dykes will be taking a field trip for devil red meat barbeque. We will watch each other’s backs.
We are in the thick of it now. Kansas. Our first taste was the finest rest stop I have ever seen, let alone used. So Kansas. However, our hearts were not at rest earlier in the day. Last night we lost one of our own. A young man of 26 left his room at midnight, alone, and never came back. Everyday, the bus mommies give us the daily drill on the buddy system, how we have no choice but to sacrifice our individual rights for our safety and our mission (yes, they actually say that). This is usually when I reach for the Ipod. Yet, this morning when we loaded the bus at 6:30 am, there was nothing but bad news. And, the first flashes of anger. We older dykes just could not comprehend how someone could be so irresponsible! How dare he wander off after we had gone over the importance of the buddy system over and over and over again. And what if he was hurt? Or worse? How could we just leave, not knowing? We had a responsibility to him, even if he had violated his to us. He is ours. Our child. We are family. Damnit!
I had a feeling that it was going to be OK. I’ve been working on Castro Street for six years. Been around a lot of dick. I know how it is. Yet, you just never know…and you worry until you do.
We had to get on the bus. We decided to leave a couple of people behind to keep checking hospitals and work with the Denver LGBT Center and police until we found him. He is ours. Our child. We cannot abandon one of our own. Laramie is still a fresh wound in our hearts.
Then, our reporter from PlanetOut, Karen, reluctantly came to us with more bad news. She had to leave the bus. We are hoping that all she is feeling is the altitude. But again, we have no way of knowing. Our left-behind angels will be doing double duty in Denver.
We left Denver not knowing. Into the void of Kansas. And, the good news is that 5 hours after leaving Denver, he who was lost has been found. And will be flogged upon his return. We continue to hold good thoughts for our comrade. Our wordsmith.
Hopefully, now that (please Goddess) the drama du jour has passed, the lull of the wheat fields will give us quiet rest. Very few speeches on board today: the process quota has been met.
And now, back on message: This morning in Denver, bus riders who have international partners spoke at length. Heartbreaking stories of forced exile all because of who you love. Trust me when I say that all of us have a lot of learning to do. Even we who call ourselves activists take far too much for granted. You just don’t know how it is until you’ve been there.
The same can very much be said for this road trip. Everyday I am reminded that it is the teachers who are doing the learning.
Tonight, the fat dykes will be taking a field trip for devil red meat barbeque. We will watch each other’s backs.
posted by Leslie Ewing at 8:41 PM
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