Two guys at bar precieved as gay

From the Door of a Gay Bar, You See the Scope of Life—and Death

The whole scope of life, from joy to sorrow, plays out in gay bars nightly. When last year a man walked into a gay bar in Orlando and gunned us down in an act so horrifying it seemed like none of us might be safe, the men in my community showed up strong. We thought nobody would come that night, but they congregated at the bar, and together we danced and mourned, cried and hugged one another.

I saw a community that stood up and came together in the face of oppression and sorrow. In my first few months working gay bar doors, a handsome man came into the bar, well-dressed in a dark suit. Around 11 PM, the floor manager came to me and said the suited guy was buying drinks for everyone at the bar.

He wanted me to go up to him and introduce myself, make him feel special. Over the next few hours, he spent thousands of dollars buying drinks for everyone in sight. He seemed out of place. I walked him outside. He stumbled and fell. I got him back on his feet, held him while he puked. Brain tumor.

He should have died already. Call a taxi. He laughed into my arm. I thought he would fall down again. Suddenly he stood up, his eyes almost clear. I put the money back in his wallet. But taking his money would have just made things sadder. If you want anything, tell him to bring it.

The man fell asleep with his head in my lap. My manager came to check on me. I sat there for an hour. I checked his breathing, afraid maybe he had died in my arms. I wondered where this man had gone wrong. He had no one left—just his drug dealer, who he had to pay to come get him. Recently, a guy named Joe wandered into the Eagle, a leather bar that I work at in LA, with his girlfriend and best friend, a regular I recognized.