Following the Chaps Man
May 20, 2001
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This
Sunday was the Long Beach Gay Pride Parade. M didn't want
to go. Last year he went but kept a hangdog, put-out look
on his face all afternoon and really, that's no fun to be
around. When he said he'd rather stay home and watch a motorcycle
race, I didn't argue. I jumped on my bike and took off fast
in case he changed his mind.
I pedaled down 2nd
Street, parallel to the parade, and used the side streets
to gauge how far the procession had gotten. Randomly, I chose
Orange street and zoomed up to the police barricades. I watched
the parade for a few minutes, then noticed a man who had come
up to stand next to me.
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Of
course, living in this neighborhood, I've seen my share of
chaps before, but I have never seen them on a body like this.
Not only was he incredibly hairy, but he had quite a sizable
gut. Also, the chaps were dirty. Filthy, even. There was a
suspicious, long brown smear on one leg, and the studded straps
were dusty and sort of rusted. The pants had snaps at the
bottom of the legs, and they were undone so that the leather
flapped around his glaringly bright tennis shoes.
I would never have thought to combine white sneakers with
this outfit.
I watched him for a few minutes, taking in the plastic bag,
the crazy shoes and his unsteady gait, and decided he was
more interesting than the parade. |
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I
stood about ten feet from him and watched people approach
us. When a person caught sight of his hairy, bare-assed self,
they would immediately elbow everyone they were with, pointing
him out.
Most people laughed and shook their heads, but there was a
few "Oh, man. That is so not right."
Even though he was oblivious of the stir he created, I was
enthralled by watching the reactions. It was funny to try
to peg who would grimace, who would laugh, who would give
him a thumbs up sign. More often than not, people surprised
me. Straight looking men smiled wanly. Obviously gay guys
gasped and seemed scandalized. |
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Ol'
Chaps Man watched the parade, acting like he was wearing normal
clothes like everyone else. He waved to the fire trucks and
the gay and lesbian police officers. He clapped when our mayor
drove by on a convertible.
When he started moving further west along Ocean Avenue, I
followed him. |
He
staggered along pretty slowly and I managed not to lose him,
even though I was wrestling my bicycle through the crowds.
Since I was trying to stay at a discreet distance, I was privy
to the conversations people were having after they passed
him.
Most people were amused. A few were offended. Several claimed
that they were "blinded for life."
For the most part, women laughed delightedly and men made
sad, low, keening sounds. |
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He
made his way to a more open area, and as got ready for my
next shot, he turned to me and smiled, posing. I was a little
surprised he was aware of me, because until then, I suspected
he was drunk. He staggered and seemed out of it, but he appeared
sober enough here.
Note the reading glasses hung around his neck. Bifocals: the
perfect accessory for any extra hairy, large stomached masochist! |
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