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Orlando Overrun by Homosexuals: Film at 11
Written on 2002-06-03, at 1:44 p.m.
dizboy's disturbing daily diet...

1/2 Donato's Meat Lovers Pizza

5 Pieces Garlic Cheesy Bread

12 oz. Coke

Adam Live*

Everyone go tell Adam how cute he looks in his Passport photo.

Also, tell him that turnabout is fair play.

*Not at all live...

Or flattering.

Gay Disney.

What a weekend.

I was planning on doing a short update everyday, but that idea went out the window this weekend along with common sense, feeling adequate, toleration of happy couples, and the drivability of my car.

I'll...explain it all.

Where did I leave off the other night?

I believe I was building up for the festivities of this weekend, so I'll pick it up from there.

Thursday evening found me sitting in my apartment moping.

A skill which I've perfected to a level that makes Eeyore look like he's hopped up on some of Columbia's finest.

Danny, who now that he has a boyfriend doesn't feel the need to ever update again, had asked if he could spend the night at my place after he left Pleasure Island, Disney's nightclub facility.

Being the gracious best friend that I am, I of course said yes.

Though, when he showed up sometime past three in the morning, my personality was less than sparkling.

I had apparently answered the door in my sleep, and pointed toward the couch, where he was to sleep.

Ah well.


Friday morning, and it was time to clean.

I knew there would be a great deal of people in and out of my apartment in the succeeding days, so I had to make it look somewhat presentable.

And by a great deal of people coming in and out of my apartment in the succeeding days I mean people in my apartment were getting laid who's names were not John.

So after a day of cleaning, Danny departed, and I took a disco nap, having just a few hours before I was off to pick up Jordan and Mike from the airport, and depart directly to Typhoon Lagoon for "Beach Ball".

Jordan's flight was scheduled to come in at promptly seven PM.

Nearly an hour after that time, the plane touched down in Orlando.

Hellos were quickly said, and it was right into my car for the beginning of our gay weekend.

We arrived at Typhoon Lagoon around 9pm, parked, and as we were walking in, were treated to a teeming mass of gay men, ready to spend a quiet evening packed into a dark waterpark.

We got a locker, and changed into our suits.


Not business.

I was wearing a cute little pair of yellow boardshorts, Mike in a basic suit, and Jordan in some square cut Euro-style thing.

Eh, some people can pull it off.

Now, let me share a little equation with all of you dear people.

A few thousand gay men + a dark water park + not-too-outrageously priced alcohol...

...equals an event that was definitely worth the $65 I shelled out to go.

Hundreds of bodies in the wave pool, from which would rise hundreds of high pitched squeals every time the bell would ring, signaling the release of the 10-foot high "Typhoon Wave", which would bowl over anything in it's path, and toss all the boys on top of each other.

There was a dance floor, complete with trampoline artists, and silk ribbon aerial acrobats (think Cirque du Soleil) in the middle of the park, where live DJ's churned out the music which invited group after group of dripping boys to undulate the night away on a beach.

Near the biggest slide, a group of slightly disturbed individuals had gathered at the base to watch as boys came down the slide, hoping to catch a glimpse of a skin from a bathing suit going askew from the impact.

I saw a lot of people I knew, though thanks to a healthy prescription of Long Island Iced Teas (Take two every hour), I don't recall exactly who I was talking to at what point.

Towards the end of the evening, I ran into my ex-boyfriend Nick, who is someone I still love dearly, but for some reason, I just can't get it together when it comes to him.

Latching onto him, i coerced him away from his group, explaining that he had no choice but to stay at my homosexual hostel that night, and join us all at the Magic Kingdom the next morning.

As we all regrouped, Jordan was busy with a boy in tow...Mike #7, as he was later to be referred to.

As it was nearing 4am, we got everything together, and hurried home, for what was to be not nearly enough sleep, Jordan and Atlanta Mike (Not Mike #7...it's confusing, isn't it?) on a mattress on my floor, and Nick and I in my bed.

Which, is only fitting, seeing as how he'd been there many time in the past.

Though, Jordan being an ex as well...Eh, the logistics of it all is too much.

And thus came sleep.


After falling off to sleep sometime after 5am, the phone wakes me up at nearly 8am.

It's Cesar.

I pick up the phone, look at the caller ID, flashing..."CESAR", mute the ring, and put it back down, turning over and returning to bed.

Lying in bed still, nearly 45 minutes later, the phone again rings.

It's Cesar.

This time, to be nice, I pick it up.

"Hello?" I say.

"Hey, don't freak out, we're almost there." says the Cez.

"Almost...oh...um...here? Almost here, are you?" I said.

You see, the day before, Danny and I told Cesar to be at my place no later than 8:45am, so that we may leave by 9.

We told him this knowing that since Cesar is notoriously late, telling him to arrive at 8:45 would place the actual arrival nearer to 9:45-10:00, the time that we had planned to actually leave.

Who knew that he'd be on time for once?

Ah well.

Needless to say, he was not too happy when I walked outside to greet him and Mark in nothing but pajama bottoms, though once he got caught up in the excitement of all of us getting ready, he seemed to forget that he was even angry in the first place.

Rousing the rest of my apartment guests, we all got ready, and ended up leaving close to 11am.

Leading a caravan of three cars, I sped down Interstate 4, drawn to Disney like a moth to a flame.

A big, gay, moth.

We arrived at Disney, and just as in years gone by, pulling into the parking lot we were exposed to a sea of red-clad people, ready to show the world that "We're here, we're queer, and we have more expendable income than any other demographic on earth."

We boarded the tram, ready to take on the day at Disney, and Cesar, Mark, and I were forced to take the only open seats, directly across from a stern-faced Japanese family, who couldn't help but show some slight concern as to what was happening all around them.

Moments later, we are overcome by a thickly accented Hispanic voice over the tram's loudspeakers, telling us where we had parked.

Happy, row 82.

Trouble is, her accent was so strong, that it sounded like she was saying "Appy".

And she continually said "Appy", asking how many people on the tram were, indeed, happy.

Big mistake, it's Gay Days...we're all incredibly "appy".

We get to the Transportation and Ticket Center, and board the monorail.

"Please stand clear of the doors."

"Por favor mantenganse alejado de las puertas."

We disembarked at the Magic Kingdom, everyone makes sure they have a ticket, and enter what, for at least one day, is the gayest spot on the planet earth.

Our first order of business was to locate Carly, as she was left to fend for herself while the rest of the people in her group (including Roy) rode Space Mountain.

From there, it was on to Pirates of the Caribbean, to wait patiently for the precise moment to let loose the most tired Gay Disney joke of them all...

Which is pointing at someone you know, and saying "Yo Ho".

From there, there was some debate as to what to do.

You see, we were all dying at that point, as it was nearly 100 that day, and I kid you not.

Danny decided to depart for a few minutes, so he could go to First Aid to get a band-aid for his infected thumb.

Which, looks disgusting.

About ten minutes later, we get word that Danny will now be going to the hospital, as the nurse informed him that the infection riddling his thumb is much worse than anyone suspected.

One down.

We were all hungry, so I, being the one who seemed least concerned about money that day, make reservations for a moderately priced restaurant in the park.

Which was quickly vetoed by the rest of the group.

So, we ended up at "Pinocchio's Village Haus" for fast-food burgers.

The rest of the day went by fairly quickly, as the only other attractions we ended up going on were The Haunted Mansion, and The Hall of Presidents.

The latter of which was possibly the worst experience of my life.

We also watched the parade, standing in the blistering sun.

By the time the last float passed by, I was sure that a small waterfall of sweat had formed somewhere in the region of my pants.

We finally decided to leave, and out of Myself, Danny, Cesar, Mark, Jordan, Matt, Mike, and Nick, all were left standing, and feeling victorious about surviving yet another Gay Days.


At about 7pm, after a well deserved nap, Jordan and I decided to go out to dinner and a movie.

Jordan is taking along his "special friend", Mike #7 from the waterpark on Friday, and not wanting to feel totally creepy all evening, I call up Adam, for someone to talk to while the other two make babies.

After a Tex-Mex celebration, we headed off to see "The Sum of All Fears", which is where Adam got ahold of my student ID, and then back to my apartment, where after Adam left, and I went to bed, Jordan and friend proceed to get it on monkey style on my papisan.

Yeah, I flipped the mattress.


Sunday morning I got up first and awakened Jordan, with a not-so-gentle reminder that it was his birthday, and that at 24, he was now the oldest person in the apartment.

We went to a post Gay Days/Jordan's birthday brunch at The Cheesecake Factory in Winter Park, where I dined on eggs benedict, and $5 glasses of orange juice.

But God, was it worth it.

After brunch, Jordan and I parted ways, as he left with his sister, and headed back to Atlanta later that evening.

I went home, and took a short nap in preparation for work that evening.

Sunday night, I was working on an event hosted by Marc Baker, who is a big club/party promoter on the gay circuit.

It was called the "Stars Party", and as the men streamed in to Universal Studios Islands of Adventure, I couldn't help but feel more inadequate than I've felt in my whole life.

Pecs. For. Days.

Though I was there as the event coordinator, it was still technically my very first circuit party.

And unless I'm again being paid to be there, it was my last.

Six-thousand gay men playing in half the theme park, then moved into our largest soundstage for what was quite possibly the best club set-up I've ever seen in my life.

Everything went well, without a hitch for all intents and purposes.

A famous drag queen (though I had never heard of her) called "Circuit Mom" performed, doing a great number which included a never before heard, ten minute mix of Madonna's "Ray of Light" by some famous DJ (also who I'd not heard of).

Everything I had to do was wrapped up at about 1am, but I stayed around a while longer to watch the show, and chat with friends.

I rolled out at about 2:30 in the morning, with the party still going strong.

I got home, pulled my clothes off, and got into bed, ready to contemplate many things about the weekend, one of which being why I seemed to be the only single person not only in my group, but in the entire week-long event.

I didn't have much time to think about that though, as the phone rang.

It was my ex-boyfriend Jeremy, stranded at the Parliament House, without a ride, and needing a place to crash for the evening.

Again, as I'm the best friend a fag could have, I got in my car, decked out in full pajama attire, to go pick him up.

Wherein on my way to get him I was struck directly on the drivers side of my dear car Velma by a motorist who was apparently taught that a red light means "go right through it without looking", pushing my car across the road, leaving it in the inoperable state it is now in, and leaving me thankful that Velma thinks she's a Volvo, as I was not at all injured.

But, that's another entry altogether.

Be well...


Your Host and Emcee...dizboy.

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