So… two weeks after I got home from England, I set out again on another trip. The impetus was that my older niece was bringing her family from Minnesota to visit her parents in the Catskills, so I would go over/up there to see everyone. But heck, if I’m going to have a car and be traveling anyway, let’s add some more stops.
Last time I’d been up to visit that crowd there was two years ago – the end of the ‘summer of AAAUGH’, as I called it, since C passed away a week before Memorial Day. I’d taken the opportunity to spend a night at Rainbow Mountain, a gay resort in the Poconos close to the Delaware Water Gap. I’d heard about RM for years – it’s close enough to both Philly and NYC to be a place to go. I’d found on that first visit that it was a lovely place to visit, but post-COVID, the staff didn’t really have their act together and the management was clearly leaning way too much on the side of doing everything as cheaply as possible.
But this year, it occurred to me that maybe I could lure my friend Jim up from Philly to join me for an overnight stay. Jim doesn’t read these things, so I can get a little personal… Jim was my first for-real boyfriend, although we never really made that official, and were certainly never exclusive. I’d met him not long after moving to Philadelphia – I was a week away from turning 23, and he was 31 at the time. Some really intense dating, but that turned into a breakup, and then back together, and then sort of bouncing in and out of each other’s orbit, mostly friends but with benefits too. We kept circling around the concept of really becoming a couple, but could never get there – and I’m sure there’s a whole book in this story at some point, but won’t get into serious detail. Anyway, we’ve been two people who love each other, but couldn’t get it together, for over thirty years now.
I’d last seen him when I visited Philly in Jan 2023, so it had been a while – and we hadn’t talked, probably since the New Year. (he is the poster child for pointing out that ‘we haven’t talked in a while’, but will never ever initiate a phone call or a visit) So… a good chance to maybe spend some time with him in a neutral setting and have some fun. And he agreed! I’d floated the idea to him before leaving for England (unfortunately, he called me back and was all set to launch into his story of how he’d just been in the hospital for reasons, and I had to say, “I’m about an hour before leaving for the airport to go to England, but let’s have this call when I get back, and meantime, think about this plan I’m proposing…”) – and we got it set up when I came back.
So Saturday (Aug 24th), I spent the morning packing and closing the apartment, and then Ubered over to the Avis lot. Like the last time I got a car, Avis was slammed and although what they promise is a car just waiting for you when you show up, that was not the case here. But it wasn’t that big a deal to wait and I ended up with a red Hyundai Santa Fe, a big-ass SUV sort of thing, but not outrageously large. Off to the nearby grocery store to buy car snacks and drinks and distilled water and a sandwich from the deli counter for lunch. I forgot to tell him to leave off the shredded lettuce, and was soon driving towards the GW Bridge, snarfing my sandwich and coating the footwells with lettuce bits.
Once you get across the bridge, it’s not a bad drive, maybe an hour and a half or so. Once I got close, I headed to Stroudsburg, where I’d seen there was some sort of candy shop, thinking to get something for the Keisers when I showed up in Roscoe the next day. But Stroudsburg turns out to be one of those towns with an adorable Main Street with lots of cute shops and mobbed with tourists and no effing parking. I ended up pulling off onto a side street and into a parking space, which was (a) a 15 minute limit and (b) metered, and you had to use an app to pay the parking fee and it was just a lot of effort for nothing, so I just headed out and never did make it to the candy store. If I head back there someday, I should explore Stroudsburg, through, it was pretty cute.
I got to RM at about 3:30. The rooms weren’t ready yet (and Jim wasn’t there yet, and true to form, he was neither texting me himself or responding to my texts), but I found out they’d upgraded us to the biggest rooms, so that was nice. I went down to the pool to wait and ended up in a conversation with an older bear named Pete, who was actually a local, but had passes to RM and Camp OUT (down the road) and all the other gay campgroundy type places in the general vicinity. Pete was super nice and very helpful, gave me some restaurant recommendations (including “don’t eat here”, meaning the RM restaurant).
Went back up to the Lodge, and Jim showed up right then. I hadn’t seen him in a year and a half, and I must say my first reaction was, ‘he looks OLD’. OK, he had just spent a week or so in the hospital, and was now walking with a cane. But he actually maneuvered fine around RM, which is very hilly, he just had to take it slow. We got our room keys and went down to the ‘king’ rooms and parked. I think I was in the same room I was two years ago. This is probably the time to say that my hope that the staff and management would have gotten their act together after two years was unfounded. The room was still incredibly dim, you couldn’t see effing anything. The supplied toiletries were really minimal. I think I was supposed to have coffee-makings, and there were none. My air-conditioner thing was set to 64 degrees, but there was no way to change it. (a little exploration made me realize that you were supposed to use a remote, but there was no remote). Turned out that Jim’s room had a remote which worked on mine. But it was all just a disaster as far as the hoteling and customer care. Jim also pointed out that the facilities could clearly use upgrading and an infusion of cash. There were almost no guests, and this was a Saturday in summer. It’s a shame, really – Rainbow Mountain is a nice concept and really it’s a nice physical place (I love the pool), and if they threw some capital at it and upped their game in terms of hospitality, I’ll bet they’d get really successful.
Which is not to say we didn’t have a good time, we really did. Jim and I got into bathing suits and headed for the pool, where we soaked until we realized we were the only guests left and everyone else had left to change for dinner. We went up to the lodge to look at their restaurant’s menu, but decided to (after cleaning up) head out and find somewhere else. We ended up at Los Tres Amigos, which Pete had recommended. It was BYOB, but that wasn’t a dealbreaker, we just drank sodas and planned to drink later at the RM club. I had a quesadilla, he had a taco salad, and we got chips with pico de gallo that was surprisingly pricey, but also really good.
By the time we got back, the club was technically open, but the bartender was still setting up. We nabbed a table with comfy seats, and eventually got to order a martini and a cosmo – both of which came in plastic cups (not even plastic martini glasses), and the cosmo was on the rocks, too, which is weird for a cosmo. It was pretty good, though! And we listened to the dance mix and chatted as best we could. Eventually, other patrons showed up – a collection of trans ladies/drag queens (not sure which), and my buddy Pete from the pool. I introduced Pete to Jim and we had a good time talking. Pete’s retired now, but his career was in … um, demolition? He was a person who blows things up with dynamite. It was really interesting just kind of getting a touch of what it would be like to be a blue-collar gay who lives in the sticks. Pete was clearly happy and had his whole gay life together, he was fun to talk to.
We wrapped it up close to midnight and headed to our separate rooms.
If I hadn’t needed to get moving, we could have hung out at the pool all morning, but I did – and we met at 8:00 for breakfast. Pete had told me about a decent diner nearby (lots of Trumpy signs, but good food) and we went there. I was delighted to find that my weight-loss drug seemed to be working, as I ordered a not-very-large breakfast and still only ate about half of it. And we continued to get caught up. Back to the rooms, and after a goodbye hug and smooch, I hit the road.
(I need to touch base with Jim again, to find out what he did after I left. He was planning to visit family, but hadn’t actually gotten in touch with them to see who was around or where they were. What is it with that man and just picking up the goddam phone? anyway…)
So… bottom line, as a way to get to hang out with Jim and get caught up, it worked very nicely. As a ‘gay resort’ experience, it was pretty lame, but it wasn’t bad. As I said, there’s a campground called “Camp Out” right down the road, and there are other campgrounds around, like The Woods and Oneida and so on. And I should check them out. But I don’t really want to go camping per se, or have to bring my own food anywhere. So … I’ll do a little research.
Next up: Roscoe, beer and family!
The Toast Point Page 