Tony at the Red Line Tap.
“I’m buying, Klonsky,” said Tony as I draped my coat over the stool next to his.
“Uh. Fine.” I said.
“Marty. Get Klonsky an Old Style. And put it on my tab.”
I winced. “An Old Style?”
Marty gave Tony one of her looks and then saying nothing, reached into the cooler for a can.
“I’ve got something I want to ask you, Klonsky,” said Tony.
“I’m all ears.”
“It has to do with my cousin John.”
“John? You have a cousin John? Every cousin you ever talk about has some unusual name and now you say you have a cousin John.”
“He’s Canadian,” said Tony.
“Oh,” I said.
“So anyways. John is a teacher like you. He is goin’ to a conference. And he’s traveling there with a woman he’s worked with for twenty years. They’re close friends. And their spouses know each other and they all hang out together.”
“Yeh. So what’s the question?”
“They tell the head of their department that rather than get two crappy rooms, they want to share a bigger, nicer room that would actually be cheaper than two rooms. Their spouses are fine with this, but the department chair says no way. What if the kids were to find out about it?”
“How would the kids know?”
“That what John wanted to know. But, here’s the thing. I think it is homophobic.”
I go, “What?”
“Sure. Homophobic. It assumes heterosexuality. What if two guy teachers were to go to the conference and one was Gay. Or both of them were? They would share a room. Or it is okay for two women teachers to go to a conference and share a room. It’s assumed that there is no sex involved.”
“Well it’s dumb anyway. Because two people sharing a room doesn’t mean they are going to have sex. And getting two different rooms won’t guarantee no sex.”
“That’s not my point, Klonsky.”
“No Tony. I suppose it’s not”