A night at the Roxy
Went and saw Rent last night. It wasn’t on my list of movies to go out and see immediately this winter, mostly because I had no idea what it was about, and also because I am lazy. I ended up enjoying it for more than the fact that I was seeing it before my sister.
Afterwards, Ashley and Jenny and I went to the Roxy, Stumptown’s 24-hour greasy spoon on the west Burnside. Over dinner, we were visited by the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, who came into the Roxy to hand out fliers and talk to the patrons about their upcoming toy drive for children with HIV. They were going to put collection bins near the entrances to the local gay clubs. “These toys are for kids,” the sister told us, “so think Toys’R'Us, not Spartacus.”
Over dinner, we talked about the Thanksgiving we’d all just spent together. It was the first time in years I’d had one with my friends instead of with family. I related to the ladies about when I was nineteen, and my family had already moved up to Oregon and left me alone in San Diego. At the time, I was living with my older brother, but we weren’t going to have a turkey dinner there on Thanksgiving day, since my sister-in-law was out of town. I had to work on that day anyway, my first day as a waiter, so no big loss. After wrapping up my shift there, several of us from the day shift ended up going to Black Angus for a steak dinner on Thanksgiving. That we went there at all is amusing to me now, since we all bitched and moaned thoroughly that day not only about having to work on the holiday, but about all the people that went out to a goddamn restaurant on Thanksgiving. After that, I recall going to my friend Casey’s house and drinking a lot of Mickey’s with my high school buddies.
Anyway, the moral of the story is that we all agreed that spending the holiday together was a good thing, and hopefully the start of many more. Also, if you find yourself at the Roxy, try the hot turkey sandwich.
