Anaheim, California, February 1994
My job at at a camp for juvenile delinquents lasted for only about six months, from July 1992 to January 1993: too many crazy rules, too homophobic. The only kid I really bonded with was Chazz, a cute 17-year old on a diversion program for vandalism and auto theft, who I helped break the rules to visit his boyfriend.
We stayed in contact, chatting in America Online chatrooms and sometimes talking on the telephone. After his release, he moved to Orange County, about 40 miles from West Hollywood, to stay with his father and stepmother. He got his high school diploma, enrolled at Cal Stat Fullerton, and got a job at Disneyland!
"You and Lane should come down and visit," he said. "I can give you a behind-the-scenes tour."
I hated theme parks: the crowds, the noise, the tacky tie-ins, the $15 ice cream cones. Especially the Disney Main Street, a glorification of the racist, sexist, homophobic 1890s America of Walt Disney's childhood.
But I liked Chazz -- I felt like a big brother to him. And Lane had fond memories of going to Disneyland as a kid. So we decided to go down on a Thursday in early February 1994 -- a weeknight in the middle of winter shouldn't be too crowded.
We checked into our room at the Sheraton around 7:00, picked up Chazz at his parents' house, and took him to dinner at a Mexican restaurant (tip: always eat first, so you don't have to buy the overpriced, saturated fat-laden theme park food).
It had been a year since I saw Chazz in person. He had changed, or maybe I had permission to notice, now that he was over 18! Thick arms and shoulders. A far bigger bulge. His adolescent features hardened into those of a classic leading man: a square jaw, a heavy brow, soft eyes, and a bright smile.
When we ordered our cheese enchiladas and arroz con pollo, Chazz excused himself and went to the bathroom.
"Why didn't you tell me that your Boy Toy was so drop-dead gorgeous?" Lane exclaimed.
"I know! Last I saw him, he was a cute kid, and now he's a super-hunk!"
"I'd wear a gay-pride t-shirt to Liberty Baptist Church [where homophobe Jerry Falwell preached] just for a five-second through-the-pants grope."
"I didn't even think you were into twinks. You like bodybuilders and hairy-chested, bearded bears."
Lane laughed. "Sometimes a twink will turn my eye. Remember Danny, my boyfriend before you? He was a regular Trophy Boy. And Chazz definitely does the trick. Any chance of us sharing tonight?"
"I don't know. Since I was his teacher at Camp Routh, he may not think of me as an erotic possibility. He might not even be into older guys."
"Older? Who you calling old, Sonny?!"
"I'm 33. That's a huge age gap for an 18 year old. And you're 38, old enough to be his father."
"Just suggest it, will you?"
"Well, I'll ease into the idea."
When Chazz returned, I said "This weekend we're going to see My Father the Hero, starring Gerard Depardieu. He's very hot, don't you think?"
Chazz shrugged and said something about 20-year old Mackenzie Astin in Iron Will.
I pointed out a hot suit-and-tie guy in his thirties. Chazz shrugged, but his jaw dropped at the hot teenage busboy.
Grabbing at straws, Lane told about his hookup with Cesar Romero, the Joker on the old Batman tv show. "He was in his 80s, super hot and super hung, believe me!"
Chazz yawned and said "Before we go over to the park, I should tell you some ground rules:"
1. No physical contact. Hay people are technically allowed at Disneyland -- they can dance together since a lawsuit in 1984 -- but you still have to be careful. You might not get kicked out for holding hands, but you can get yelled at or beat up.
2. Don't out me in front of the staff. They're usually ok, but management is really homophobic. They don't hire anybody who 'looks gay,' You hear them complaining about 'fags' and 'fairies.'
3. You're my uncles. Don't out yourselves, either, just to be on the safe side.
"Sounds fun!" I exclaimed, thinking "why are we doing this again?"
Oh, yeah -- Lane wants me to ask Chazz to "share." After all that oldster-bashing, I don't think so.
Chazz directed us to a "cast member" parking lot, which was a lot closer than "guest parking," and through a secret side entrance that led to Adventureland (yes, we paid the admission fee).
It was a Thursday evening, but the crowds were still intense. Lots of nuclear families with babies in strollers and overexcited kids, some hot Dads, an occasional teenager.
Chazz got lots of smiles back. He was getting cruised by everybody. Literally everybody -- men, women, teenagers, boys, girls, Aladdin and Princess Jasmine.
I pointed out various guys, to check on how Chazz responded. He uniformly rejected anyone who looked over 30, and squealed "Gross!" at Daddies and bears. But high school boys brought a broad smile to his face.
"Do any of the 'guests' approach you and try for a date or a trick?" Lane asked.
"Oh, sure, all the time. I can't stand the Creepy Old Guys -- they stand so close that you can see their yellowed, rotten teeth and smell their rank breath. And they think they can impress you by talking about things from before you were born. As if!"
"How old are these Creepy Old Guys?" I asked.
"Oh, way old. I bet some of them are even old enough to be my dad!"
"But I've made dates with a couple of guys my own age, you know, cute ones, ones I have things in common."
I found it all rather depressing. I was just waiting for 11:00, when the park would close and this behind-the-scenes tour would have to end.
Finally, as the crowds were pouring through the front entrance through trams, Chazz led us to Adventureland, back into the small side exit, and out onto the still-bustling streets of Anaheim. We found our car, and started on the way to his house.
Chazz looked alarmed. "Hey, aren't you going to invite me to...you know, spend the night in your hotel room? I thought you guys did that all the time." He reached over and grabbed my knee.
""We didn't think you were into older," I said.
"Well, not Creepy Old Guys, like grandpas, but you guys, normal age, sure. I been fantasizing about Boomer ever since he was at Camp Routh. I have a thing for teachers, you know."
I turned around, and Chazz directed me back to the Sheraton. We went up to the hotel room.
That night he got his nickname of Infinite, and not just because of his Mortadella+.
See also: Lane's Bear Boyfriend and Infinite Chazz; Lane and His Trophy Boy; and My Scary Date with the Teenage Lawnboy