My mom, and a lot of other people I know, think it’s absolutely insane that I have “internet friends,” let alone that I meet up with them in person. Most people I know understand my categories of friends.  There are the “Joe Paradox” friends, the “College” friends, the “Clay Aiken” friends, the “Amazing Race” friends, the “Blog” friends, and the “Work” friends.  That is the organization of my social structure, not including family, and it works really well for me.  Each contingency of friends offers something different and meaningful and enriching to my life.

This summer has been a whirlwind of “Internet Friend” gatherings.  It started when my friend Wendy came to visit me, and we drove with our friend Melissa to Columbus, Ohio to spend the weekend with the “Clay Aiken” friends.  Six hours in the car singing showtunes and an entire weekend of parrot-quoting and bastardizing of song lyrics.  Many other fun and ridiculous things happened that weekend as they always do when we’re together, including a viewing of The Dark Knight in IMAX, the American Idols concert (where I somehow managed to totally miss a bald biker dude barfing his brains out in front of the entire crowd exiting the arena - seriously who gets THAT drunk at an American Idols concert???), and a very special event at the showtunes singalong bar. 

It was a quiet night at showtunes.  Only a handful of people were scattered around the main room.  The VJ took the opportunity to play some of the more obscure showtune videos on the big screens, probably his personal favorites that wouldn’t go over very well in a larger crowd.  I agreed to do a low-key version of my “Consider Yourself” marching routine, since Melissa made a special request of it to the VJ.  As the evening progressed, we couldn’t help but notice a beautiful, but extremely drunk, drag queen perched atop a stool at the bar.  She was having a bit of a hard time holding her head up, and not from the weight of her perfectly coiffed wig. 

Next to her was a couple whose attention she kept trying to get by yelling, “HEY!” in a gruff voice and touching the mustached one of the pair.  They ignored her, and after they left, she surveyed the straight couple next to her who spent the entire evening groping one another and making out.  We thought hey were a foul sight, and everyone in the bar seemed to think the same.  Including the beautiful drag queen, who promptly got up and stumbled outside.  We figured she was going out for a smoke or some fresh air, but she didn’t return until quite some time later, under the arm of a petite waiter who worked at the club.  He walked her to the back of the bar where the restrooms were located and went back to his work, alone.

Several minutes went by and Melissa and I started to wonder, and then to worry.  Melissa had to use the restroom anyway, so we decided to go check up on the intoxicated blonde dressed in a celadon green pageant gown with dyed-to-match shoes.  We walked into the ladies room and the door to the one working stall was closed and locked.  Seconds later, Miss Fancy Pants emerged, barely able to navigate the door to get to the sink.  Melissa went into the stall, started laughing, and said, “Oh honey pie, you pissed all over the place in here!”

Fancy Pants:  I...DID...NOT!

Melissa:  Yes, you did!

Melissa closed the door to the stall and took care of her business, while I helped our new friend out at the sink.  She was examining herself in the mirror, scrunching her hair to just the right volume, wobbling a bit all the while.  I went over and put my arm around her waist to steady her.  While she fluffed her hair, I fluffed her feathers and said, “You look beautiful, and your hair’s just fine.  You’re so pretty I wish I looked like you!” She turned to me and attempted a smile, then grabbed me by the small of my back.  She was facing the mirrored doors of the stalls and announced to her own reflection in an adamant tone, “THIS. MY. FRIEND.  DO. NOT. DISRESPECT.” I smiled at her and she turned back to the mirror.

Melissa came back out of the bathroom and tried to shimmy her way to the sink, but by this time, our friend had taken a compact out of her pocketbook and was beginning to freshen up.  She dipped the round sponge into the pancake and began applying the makeup to her face, saying, “Look at mama.  Look at mama.  Look at mama,” over and over again to us and to herself.  Melissa validated her efforts by telling mama she looked gorgeous but that her tits were a little crooked.  Melissa straightened her bosoms for her while I pulled at her dress, fixing her in places where she had gotten a little out of whack.  Once satisfied, we made our way back to the bar, walking behind our new lady friend in case she took a fall backwards.

Melissa placed her on a stool, and she promptly demanded, “Bah me a DINK.” Melissa asked her what she wanted and she insisted on a vodka and ginger ale.  Melissa said, “I’m not buying you any more vodka, sweetie.  I’ll get you a ginger ale for your tummy.” The bartender pushed the ginger ale toward her and we kissed our friend goodbye and returned to our table.  We agreed that before we left, we would talk to the bartenders about whether or not they knew how she planned to get home, and if she didn’t have anyone, we would take her home and tuck her in.  Only a few seconds later, another beautiful queen with a long black ponytail that swished when she walked came into the bar.  She made a beeline for Fancy Pants, pushed the ginger ale away from her, took her by the hand, and led her out.  Fancy attempted to wave to us as she left, but I’m not convinced it was because she remembered us as much as it was her curtain call exit.

We’re not sure if her friend found her after hours of searching or if someone from the bar called her, but we were happy to see she had someone who could bring her home safely.  She was a treat and a love and I hope we get to see her again someday.

Last weekend, my friend Jen was passing through town on her way to a work-related event.  Jen is part of the “Amazing Race” friends group.  We met up with Jenny and Elizabeth at a Starbucks near the Capitol, where a pigeon released a lovely load of diarrhea all over Jen’s camera bag and jeans just before we headed off for dinner.  Jen had just been lamenting the fact that she hadn’t worn something cooler, like shorts, but the decision not to change turned out to be a good one considering that turn of events.  We had dinner at Good Stuff Eatery, a new restaurant owned and operated by Top Chef’s Spike Mendelssohn.  It’s primarily a burger joint, but I was able to get a great “wedge” salad and Spike’s signature french fries to munch on.  The salad was really fresh and crisp, and the french fries dusted with rosemary were really tasty.  The atmosphere was fun and funky and Spike was a great sport, asking guests if they liked his food (I’d say yes, considering the line’s always out the door, which his dad manages expertly), signing autographs and posing for pictures. 

This weekend, Jen returned to the area before flying home, so Jenny and I took her on a mini-tour of some of DC’s sights.  We started out at the zoo, after a longer-than-anticipated wait for the metro made us late in meeting Jenny.  Walking through the zoo, we spotted a smartcart stand selling “Taco’s.” Jen took a picture and I asked the vendor if I could erase the misplaced punctuation on his sign.  It wouldn’t rub off, but I tried.  Jen took lots of panda pictures (pandas walking!  pandas eating bamboo!  pandas being panda-y!) and we anthropomorphized otters and penguins before leaving for the Mall.  A short stop at the Air and Space museum, and we were off to our most exciting destination:  Jim Hensons’ Fantastic World at the Smithsonian’s International Gallery.  OH. MY. GOD.  Can I just admit that I cried when I saw Bert and Ernie in real life?  I did.  I had to actually fight back the tears because I was so emotional about seeing these icons from my childhood up close and personal.  Kermit, Rowlf the dog, Fraggles, MahnaMahna and the Snowths, all right there in front of me.  It was clearly an emotional exhibit for many.  At one point I turned around and saw Jenny standing arm and arm with a strange woman, singing “The Rainbow Connection” aloud and swaying from side to side.  Everyone was smiling at them and it was a fantastic moment.  Throughout the exhibit, the theme of Jim Henson’s contagious and unstoppable optimism was pervasive, and you couldn’t help but have it rub off on you as you passed through each brightly colored room.  The show was wonderfully curated, with loads of sketches, doodles, and stories that captured Henson’s life as a puppeteer, experimental filmmaker and creative visionary.  I didn’t realize until yesterday what a huge impact Jim Henson had on my early understanding of people and society.  Not to mention humor, imagination and creativity.  Highly recommend. 

After Henson, we headed across the Mall to the Natural History museum, where we had a snack and started to get a little punch drunk.  Silliness turned to goofiness and before long we were embarrassing ourselves in the dinosaur room (I hope the crying lady is ok!), taking blurry pictures of phallic gems, and posing inappropriately with drawings of ancient Egyptians.  I still wish we’d bought the solar-powered blinking personalized keychain that said, “Jesus.” Seriously, is Jesus a more popular name than Jen or Jenny, because they didn’t have either of those.  Beautiful beams of sunlight streaming through the clouds and our heathen ways inspired us as we left the museum and walked across the mall.  Our little going-to-hell skit goes something like this:

God:  Jesus?  Jesus!  JESUS!  Put that damn X-Box controller down for five seconds and look at me!

Jesus:  GOD, DAD!

God:  Don’t be redundant, son.  Now listen.  I’m going to head down to that Smithsonian museum gift shop for a few minutes.  Someone finally created a keychain with your name on it and I want to pick one up for you before they sell out.  Don’t answer the phone and don’t open the door to ANYONE, unless it’s someone you know, like Peter or Paul.  But not Judas.  Don’t let him in.  You learned your lesson with him already. 

Jesus:  Ok, Dad, I won’t. 

God:  And for my sake, put down that video game and read a book for once!  I hear the new David Sedaris one is really funny.

On our way to the Metro, we incessantly parroted the theme song to Fraggle Rock, claps and all.  We pitied anyone who might cross our path in the next few weeks, for they would be subjected to the Song of the Fraggle at unexpected and most likely unwanted times.  Over dinner, we talked about everything from celebrity encounters to Jenny’s appearance on Jeopardy (against Ken Jennings, no less) to internet message boards to TARCons to Victor Garber’s giant ear..  We couldn’t for our lives remember the name of the actor who plays HRG on Heroes and we even managed to annoy a very drunk guy in the metro as we called out every man’s name we could think of in the hopes that it would spark our memory banks somehow.  Michael?  Joseph?  Peter?  Sam?  I think it’s a P name.  No, I don’t think so.  Are you sure it’s not Michael?  Yes, I’m sure.  Thomas?  Tom?  Matthew?  Mark?  Luke? John?  OH GOD WHAT THE HELL IS IT? 

I think it’s safe to say none of us will ever forget the name “Jack Coleman.”

When I look back to 2003, I opened not only a box from Dell but also a whole world of new friendships.  Like the Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer diorama at the Natural History Museum, the online world frightened and confused me, and I never in a million years imagined I would one day meet groups of total strangers who would become such fast friends.  Friends with whom I would one day walk through a fart cloud and double over laughing in a museum in Washington, DC.  Friends with whom I would purchase a sparkly silver vest to throw on stage at a Clay Aiken concert in Las Vegas.  Friends with whom I would stand in a movie theater in Columbus, Ohio, bawling over the death of Heath Ledger.  Friends with whom I hope to spend many more crazy weekends making many more hilarious memories. 

To ALL my friends:  here’s to a fantastic summer.