My Brother Picks Up a Boy

The summer of 1980, when I was 19 years old, was awful.

June 10th: I dropped out of college, and moved out of my parents' house to follow my boyfriend Fred to Omaha, where he was getting his first church (I wasn't out yet, so I told everyone that I had taken a summer job as his assistant). 

Neither of us had been in a live-in relationship before.  We were at each other's throats.

July 20th: I threw my stuff in my car and drove crosscountry nonstop to Los Angeles, where I stayed with my friend Tom and looked for a job.

Try walking in a gleaming corporate tower on Wilshire Boulevard with a resume that's empty except for two years of college and a job at the Carousel Snack Bar.

I lasted for two weeks.

August 9th: I high-tailed it back to Rock Island.  Fortunately, I had never officially dropped out of Augustana, and my parents thought that I was coming home from a summer job.

August 13th:  Dad asked, "We're going to Wisconsin Dells this weekend.  Do you want to come?"

Wisconsin Dells?  Hadn't this summer been dreary enough already?

We already spent half our lives on the road, driving to and from Indiana, some boring cabin in the northwoods, and various school and Nazarene events scattered all over the Midwest, but recently Mom and Dad had also been taking random weekend trips to Wisconsin Dells:

A tacky middle-class resort about three hours north of Rock Island.

Water parks, golf parks, zoo adventures, a Ripley's Believe it or Not museum, an optical illusion house, tourist-gouging shops and restaurants. Gross.

I opted out.

But later my 17-year old brother Ken cornered me.  "Are you crazy?  Wisconsin Dells means water parks. And water parks mean guys in swimsuits.  Just the thing to take your mind off that idiot preacher in Omaha."  (Ken was the only one in my family I was out to).

I was suspicious. "Why do you want me to go so badly?"

He grinned.  "Well, I do have a sneaky plan. I can't stand sharing a room with Mom, Dad, and Tammy.  If you come along, we can talk our way into our own room.  That means freedom!"

"We have our own room here," I pointed out.

"But no water park boys.  And I'll bet a lot of them are homos, too.  If you want to invite one to the room to, like, try on each other's underwear or something, I can just go down to the game room and play Asteroids.  A perfect plan!"

I doubted that I would have the nerve to bring home a trick, with my parents in the next room and my little brother playing Asteroids, but...naked water park boys...so I agreed to go.

We drove in Friday after Dad got off work, and stayed at a hotel across the street from a water park called Mount Olympus, because it had a three-story slide.  It didn't open until 11:00 am on Saturday, so we visited Alligator Alley and a go-kart place, and went back after lunch.

The beefcake was not spectacular: lots of nuclear family Moms, Dads, and kids, the oldest a few years younger than me.

Not a lot of single guys.

After about an hour, I had had enough. I asked Dad if I could take the car and check out the other sights.

No, I was absolutely forbidden from using the car.  What if I got into an accident?  The family would have no way to get home.

Grr -- get into one little fender bender when you're 16...

So I started walking.  Busy highway, no sidewalk on the south side of the park.  On the north side, the less busy, tree-lined Fitzgerald Road.

Unfortunately, it curved right back around to the busy highway. 

The side street led through Paul Bunyan's Cook Shanty, Culver's, Aunt Jenny's Got It All Shop, a busy cross-street, and a golf course.

Wisconsin Dells is not designed for pedestrian traffic!

I'm not a golfer,but I paid my money anyway, in case there were some cute guys on the course.

There weren't.

I was sick of the heat, the blaring sun, and the smell of sunburn and sweat, so I ducked into Paul Bunyan's Cook Shanty, which I read as "cock shanty."  Maybe there would be some cute waiters, or local boys hanging out.

Just my luck. Nearly deserted at 3:00 pm, no local boys, and the servers were all girls. 

I trudged back to the hotel, took a shower, and climbed into the bed in my underwear to read my book and wait for dinnertime. 

At 5:00 pm, Ken burst through the door.

"Oh...um...were you busy?" 

For all he knew, I was naked under the covers. masturbating.   I stood to demonstrate that I was wearing underwear.

Then I saw that he had a friend with him: about my age, blond, with a slim hard frame, six-pack abs, and bulging red speedos.

"This is Kerry," Ken said.  "His Dad works for Alligator Alley.  My brother Boomer."

Kerry's eyes went directly to my crotch.  Definitely cruising!

I reached out to shake his hand, and held it a bit "too long."

"After dinner we're going to the Alley," Kerry said.  "I promised Ken to let him go right into the pens.   Would you like to come with?"

It wasn't fair.  I searched all over Wisconsin Dells for the merest glimpse of beefcake, and Ken has a cute gay guy fall into his lap!

Nothing sexual happened, but who can say no to an alligator date?