"So, what did you get?" We were returning triumphant, the vanguard of a teenage booze run. We were showing our booty when Lenny chimed in. "You would not fucking believe what just happened to us. We had just gotten down to the Village when.....," he blurts out, "Did you know there are Black queers?"
They look at me for confirmation, probably because the idea of Black men as anything but warriors in 1950s Downtown Jersey City was a foreign notion. "True," I said. "We were in front of Ducky's Pizza when this skinny little fop pops up and plants himself right in front of us. He's maybe 20, 22. We don't know what he wants. He's just standing in our way, not saying anything. He has his elbow on his hip and his hand, palm up, in a very nancy pose. He's dressed in one of those pastel and shiny ski jackets like the ones you see in Macy's commercials, nothing anyone around here wears, for sure. 'Give me some money' he says. Dipshit here gives him some of our money."
Lenny protests. "It was just 50 cents."
"Anyway," I continue, "He holds out the money in his palm and just stares at us. We don't have a clue. And then, he laughs. He says 'Be a man, fight for what's yours'. He gives Lenny back the money. He asks us what we're doing down there, we tell him that we're out looking for someone to buy us some booze. He volunteers to do it. We give him our money. Into Ducky's he goes."
"And then it gets even weirder", I continue. "So, now we're just killing time and you know how its dark over there on First Street? When our eyes get used to it, we see that there's a bunch of people at the corners of the buildings. They're couples. About eight of them, Black couples, and they're men, Black men - and they're making out."
"We want to leave but we're want our booze, so we wait. But they aren't just kissing and making out. They're all dressed alike, in some sort of uniform. They're not in trench coats, but capes, and they're not wearing stingy brims, they're wearing berets, black ones. And at one point, this guy, he must be their leader, he comes down the sidewalk. His beret is red and his cape is lined in red satin and it's like he is making an entrance. He stands on the sidewalk, he extends his arms straight out, he is using his cape like he's some giant bat; another guy walks up and into him. They embrace. They start kissing. The wings swallow him up."
"I have never seen men kissing. I'm freaking out. Just about then our guy came back with our booze. So now we're centered on putting stuff into our pockets and down our pants and trying to get the hell out of there. Out of nowhere this big booming voice roars 'who the fuck are you?'
It's Red Beret. He looks even scarier up close, huge and Black like a Mighty Joe Young, but even weirder in his cape and beret. And, we hadn't noticed it, but the four of us are now in the center of a ring and surrounded by these guys. We have no idea what the fuck is getting ready to jump off."
"And then the twink comes to our rescue. 'Tangerine, Tangerine honey, it's okay'. He explains. 'They were looking to score some booze and I was helping them.' It seems like forever but eventually he calms down. He gives a signal. The circle parts and leaves just enough room for us to leave single file past this group of men in capes. We start running and don't stop till we get back here."
