Phil & rodtney Ross

IN THE BEGINNING…

Monday, June 23, 1997

We’re rehearsing our speeches and our fantasy for the International Master/slave contest on Saturday night in Denver. The mobile mechanic is in the street in front of the house fixing the ignition switch and the cruise control on our truck. Actually it’s boi rodtney’s Dad’s 88 S-10 Chevrolet with a camper shell - regular cab. Things are gonna be tight. There is some concern about it having 150,000 miles on it; but everything checks out. We leave it to Spirit.

Tuesday, June 24, 1997

Running around - last minute errands, stuff to buy and pack; and gotta get the house cleaned up. It looks like a tornado, earthquake and a blizzard all hit at once. Much computer work to do: Press kits to print, web site to update, e-mail to answer. ROSS thinks he’s lost his driver’s license and goes to DMV for another one…. Need it to get into Canada. We’re leaving at 06:00 hrs tomorrow.

Wednesday, June 25, 1997

boi rodtney is finishing his costume for the contest. He’ll be veiled in leather when he comes out on stage. It’s taking 12 hours to pack the truck. Passed out on the living room floor from 7 to 8am. The sun is shining. Our Spirits are high; but the task is almost overwhelming. Carrying, carrying, carrying everything down to the Garage for packing. Everything is packed in lawyers, with a platform bet on top. Food, gear, camping gear. Video equipment, a furniture piece for sister in Michigan, tools and umbrellas - all placed for easy access while we’re moving if necessary. The pressure is on. We’ve got 1,300 miles to go by Friday noon.

Thursday, June 26, 1997 We left yesterday day afternoon from San Francisco, after getting a very late start. We say Spirit works in mysterious ways and only it knows what the delay was about.

Sir had packed the truck for our five week journey across the US. Everything fit with just barley enough room for the both of us to sleep in the back of the truck if necessary, without an inch to spare. We said our good-bye’s to the next-door neighbor and finally left the house on the way to the Castro to check if a small package of "WET" came in that was donated to the Master and Slave contest event.

The package had come just in time for us to take to Denver, with just a little problem…Too many, too much. The WET company had generously donated two 30 x 20 x 12 boxes of lube and two huge flats of cardboard trash bins.

There was no way Sir could have taken all that lube in the truck with us with all of our provisions, except if he strapped boi on top of the cabin. After making hasty provisions for someone else to take the package with them, we tie the stuff on the tailgate and take deliver it to our friends. We’re finally on our way after being up a marathon 36hrs. Yep, stuck on the Bay Bridge at rush hour on our way East on 80 past Tahoe.

Arriving very hungry and tired in Reno at dusk, Master took boi to a buffet at Circus, Circus. We spent a few hours napping in the truck and off into the night towards Denver, our first destination.

The boi slept in the back of the truck while Sir plowed on. The boi was awaken by Sir at the back of the truck. Sir had pulled into a RV park, where we were to sleep for the night. Dad squeezed into the remaining room He had made for us and we conked out.

Thursday 26th 5:39am

Sir is re-packing the truck in the middle of Nevada, getting ready for our next stint into Utah. boi wanted to get our story up, but found the car adapter wasn’t working on the laptop. But soon discovered an electrical outlet near a cyclone fence, grabbed the laptop sat on a rock and began writing this story.

A piss break, some water on the face and then it was off on the road again.

11:30am We found ourselves six hours later in Ely, Nevada for breakfast, serve by a charming blonde high school girl with braces. Then filled up at the local gas station, where we got FULL serviced from an equally blonde young high school boy, very friendly… and also with braces…. Must be an aggressive dentist in El. We visited the railroad museum and rumbled around what’s left of the world’s largest open pit copper mine.

We continued on Hwy. 50, America’s loneliest, towards Delta, Utah. Utah, What beauty, 20 different shades of green, beige, brown and red, monuments and shrines made of stone. Took pictures of the changing scenery. The cruise control kept shifting the transmission down into second gear at 75 mph. Not too good for the engine.

8:10pm Grand Junction, Colorado. Only 250 miles to Denver. Sir decided we would get a motel and catch up on some rest. So here we are in Grand Junction. It’s getting dark as we unpack the truck and set up the computer. We got a front facing room on the first floor with parking just outside the door. There’s a bathtub for Dad which is his requisite. All is well… We’re gonna make it. Dad makes sweet corn in the bathroom sink running hot water continuously. There’s also turkey and gravy on fresh bread and whatever else falls out of the truck. Life is good.

Friday, June 27th

Up at 05:00. It takes three hours to re-pack the truck and get ready to make a good entrance at the host hotel. We’re rehearsing our speeches over and over. Checking the maps, wondering if we’re gonna make it. We call ahead to report in. Everything’s’ cool…..

Master and boi left Grand Junction for Denver at 8am, stopping by the Golden Arches for a drive by breakfast. We were supposed to be in Denver at noon to meet with our producer, Mr. Bob Fifield and his boy joe for a contestant meeting before the contest. The lady at the front desk said "it takes four hours to get there…good luck." We pulled into the hotel entrance at exactly noon -straight up - after the long pull over the Continental Divide at 10,000 feet. The truck is performing flawlessly. We’re competing to see who gets the best gas mileage. So far it’s boi with 21.2mpg. Not all that bad. No fluids missing - not a drop. Amazing vehicle! We’re greeted by head judge, Alan Selby; a.k.a. Mr. ‘S’. and also jeb, the publisher of Metropolitan Slave magazine.

The drive from Grand Junction was incredible. Hot sunny temperatures in the 90’s. Blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds made the backdrop while deep red cliffs and canyons, covered with pines wove in and out along the Colorado River hugging the freeway. There are people rafting down the river and an old narrow gauge railroad runs up the mountain side of the gorge. The old steam engine sends up so much smoke we thought the forest was on fire. This is Whitewater National Forrest surrounding Colorado Springs where the road cuts off for Aspen. The Aspen trees are full of fresh leaves. We can envision them turning yellow/gold in just three more months making ready for another winter. But it’s sooooo beautiful now. The river is roaring down on it’s way to the Grand Canyon. We promise ourselves to come back and participate in some of these activities after this trip is over. We also agree that the only vehicle for us is a Motor Home - perhaps we’ll just go on the road for a couple of years. Why not? We can do it if we chose to.

It’s amazing to realize that Europeans take a month or more every summer. We have a Russian friend who takes two, three month vacations every year in his country. Here, we work forth years with barely four days off in a row. What’s wrong with this picture?

Now, The Denver Experience: Friday, Saturday & Sunday, June 27 - 29th, 1997.

The minute we arrive there is a briefing of contestants going on - four sets of male Master/slaves… two from Atlanta, one from Dallas, and us from San Francisco. All is well. We’re scope-ing one another out. The formalities are somewhat tight.

We get our room - again on the first floor facing the pool; unpack, and get ready for the ‘Meet and Greet’ to be held at "Ye Old Matchmaker" gay bar & dance club just down the street. We drive by to check out the stage and hit KFC on Broadway. We dart into Cost Plus to buy a basket for our items to be auctioned off. Master finds one his boy can balance on it’s head - one of his finer talents.

Just in time, we are dressed for the evening. It’s to be a fetish ball so now is the time to try out the boi’s new horse tail butt plug. He’s wearing chaps; open ass, harness and collar. Should you wonder, he collar never comes off. Even when it’s changed, the new one goes on before the old one comes off.

We’ve staked out a strategic location to stand in. boi is dispatched for drinks. Master is taking pictures (to be posted here a.s.a.p.), The evening goes well. Everyone is introduced. Friendships are renewed. We’re especially glad to hug Jill Carter IMsL, and her wife Viola Johnson, favorites everywhere. There is a raffle going on and we, the contestants are selling the tickets. boi rodtney sells the winning ticket to a woman and her lover. This is great!

We scope the competition. The team from Dallas is hard core - rigid SM. The Slave is in head harness and leash and all that. The younger of the two teams from Atlanta turn out to be last years runner-up. They’re uniform lovers - impeccable. Tonight they’re in fatigues. The remaining team is warm and cordial - and natural. They’re in head to toe shiny rubber! ROSS & ross have it down with attitude and protocol. Really, as a unit, we’re indefatigable.

We dance. We’re the only ones. Everyone’s looking - taking note of our sensuality which is every present. Hey, we love to dance. It’s our thang.

Oh my gosh, forgot to tell you about the interviews in the afternoon. From three until three-thirty we were interviewed by the judges. We wore leather pants and nice shirts; sort of formal. We stood side by side in front of the six judges and responded to their questions: "As international title holders, what will you do for the leather community? How old are each of you?" Master Ross gives his birth date. Mistress Morgana (the reigning International Master, says, "I didn’t ask for the date, give me the age… I don’t feel like doing the math." Hummmmm. She’s bowing her head and pushing back from the table - not a good sign. boi is eloquent in his answers. He mentions his foreign language skills. Ross says he speaks many dialects including ebonics and smiles and says, "slaveboi does not speak ebonics". When Ross says he doesn’t see being deaf as a handicap but rather a challenge, he gets applause from Michael, international Drummer boy, who is deaf. Interviews are easy and fun for us.

But afterwards when we de-brief we find there were a hundreds things we could have said. This is ever the case and we let it go. Later in the evening Jill Carter asks us her question (she flew in late and couldn’t attend the interviews), "On a scale of one to two hundred how do you feel you’ve performed in terms of overall image and interaction with others? We say 250 in terms of protocol and 180 in terms of interaction. She asks why 180? We say it’s 10% less than perfect, there’s always room for improvement (ROSS & ross look at each other, listen to Spirit - First Mind, and come up with the same numbers).

No parties, no sex tonight. Tomorrow is the big day and we want the energy to go to the objective - winning.

Saturday, June 28th - Contest Day.

We’re up and running. Master Ross is in the street looking for Kinko’s to make Jill a press kit (We actually brought our printer - but the color ink is out and we couldn’t load all our pictures into the memory). boi is setting up for a dress rehearsal. Our slave atmosphere crew is coming for it’s blocking. boi is in the bathroom doing it’s speech. Master in the bedroom doing his.

After rehearsal and blocking at the club, we return to get ready. We’re laying out five (5) changes of gear for the evening: The introduction, the speeches, the fantasies and the finale as well as going to and from, the before and after….right down to where our contestant numbers will hang. We pack baby oil and collars and cameras and film and id and a copy of an acceptance speech should we win.

CONTEST TIME.

We’re number three. The speeches will be 1,2,3,4; and the fantasies, 4,3,2,1. That puts Master speech first then slave speech before intermission. Right after intermission we do our fantasy. Then it’s over until the announcement of the winners. Ross’s speech is well…. A little trouble with the cordless mike which is unexpected. Missed one line, "Master/slave IS the default role in our relationship"; but they’ve figured this out by now (we’ve wondered if Master/slave; Daddy/boy, Friends and Lovers would be a ‘hard sell’).

boi rodtney aces it’s speech! He falls to a crouch as it ends. It’s Master is watching from stage left as they applaud. So proud to serve. So proud to be served in this manner! The boy wanted to give this title to it’s Master. It’s done it’s part flawlessly!

Next our fantasy. It’s titled, "The Sultan and the slaveboy". Master enters stage left with three slaves who begin to fawn him. The slaveboy enters stage right, veiled and capped. The music is middle eastern with a voice-over of the Sultan’s thoughts. As the slaveboi drops it’s cape revealing it’s naked body except for a chain dance belt, it begins to dance (the boy has been a male belly dansur for 17years). The Sultan rises and moves to center stage to inspect the slave with his flogger. The slaveboy quivers. As it’s hips rotate the cheeks are flogged. It’s all too sensual. As the Sultan returns to his thrown, the attending slaves are dismissed, "Away slaves, Away!… "Come closer, slave; dance before me!". The slave is in full performance now - anticipating. "Down, kneel before me slave", orders the Sultan. The slave goes down on the carpet before the Sultan who leans forward and removes the veil. The slave is pulled into the Sultan/Master’s crotch and is tethered. "This one I think I shall keep", says the Sultan - and the lights go dark as they exit stage left.

Winner announcement time. Each team returns to the stage in order and awaits. Bob Fifield presents the sash’s to the judges and audience. He walks behind us and announces, "The 1997 International Master and slave are……… team number two, Master Roger and boy bill from Atlanta. We wait for the runner up announcement. There is none.

We return to the dressing room. It’s over.

The first to visit us in our corner is Jill Carter IMsL, who says, "You don’t need the title, you’re living it!" Jill is followed by Vi. And jeb who tells us about the scoring (he’s the tally master). It was close, we knew that. ROSS & ross look at one another and agree, the winner is our choice - besides ourselves of course. The producer thanks us unemotionally.

We’re dressing to leave and packing up. There are visits from various folk including Mistress Morgana who is consoling and tells us it was our fantasy that was lacking - not enough sizzle I guess you would say… (rodtney has his own opinion on that - read on). The most touching comments are not comments, they are feelings expressed by Officer B. of Denver, head of security - she’s honored by boy. Says he’s done his Master proud.

We’re visited by our very first fans, Ms. Joan and her baby, bonnie who say they recognized us from visiting our web site two weeks ago, "That’s them, that’s them", they said when we cam out. "That’s ROSS & ross from LeatherWeb, they report".

"Plop Plop, Fizz Fizz, Oh What A Relief It Is!"

We’re asked to dance for one of the guests by Michael, the outgoing International slave. We do. Diana Ross is singing, " ". Nothing’s changed. We’re still ROSS & ross.

We go home and fall out. The rest go to the after party.

SUNDAY, June 29h - DENVER GAY PRIDE

The parade is passing the hotel on Colfax as we hit the sunshine. We back the truck up to the sidewalk and drag out the video equipment for the first time. It’s show time. boy is into it running backwards down the street. Ross is taking stills. Here comes the leather contingency - and the classic car club. We get some good shots.

Our fans, Joan and bonnie show up, "We knew you’d be around here somewhere", they say. They have their little dog with them. We take more pictures. The parade passes and it’s check out time. We’ve decided to head out for Oklahoma City. It’s time to rest. We’ve planned three days with our good friend and leather maker, Dwayne Mitchell.

It takes us another three hours to re-pack and get out of there by three thirty. Headed East on 70 we’re soon out on the plains. The corn is knee high and the wheat golden. The white clouds and blue sky soon begin to turn darker and darker blue in spots and then total blackness. Yep, we’ve found Dorothy and Otto for sure. The wind rises and the rain begins. We stop to video a double rainbow clear across the sky. The heartland may be flat and boring on the ground; but it’s the sky that gives it it’s three dimensionally. Absolutely awesome!

Turn on the radio. Tornado alert ahead. Cars are pulling under the overpasses. We argue about stopping. Ross says if they’re still coming towards us it’s OK. ross wants to stop. When the hail begins we pull off and into a grove of trees (good for hail protection; bad for lightening which is fierce). We wait. When we take off again we head back into it and pull off into a truck stop. The drivers say, "I don’t run em any more - the radar is showing red." We learn the storm is moving about 25 miles an hour eastward. We look at the maps and decide to head south on 83 across Kansas. We will drive all night and be in Oklahoma for breakfast.

What a light show! Lightning across the sky all night long!. We share the wheel every two hours. We stop for gas and snacks. Everyone’s friendly. Gas is $1.17. (So why is it $1.47 in San Francisco?). There are police hiding in every small farm town we go through, but we’re alert and none bother us… partly the advantage of driving a Chevrolet Truck perhaps.

On our back window we have an American Flag, a Veterans of Foreign War decal; the leather flag and California handicap plates. We’ve also picked up a Colorado Initiative Gay flag at Denver Pride. So we guess this makes us All American Gay Handicapped Leather Vets… something like that. There’s also our cowboy hats and camping gear behind the glass.

Monday, June 30th, 1997

We put our key in the door at 05:00 hours. We chat w/Dwayne and hit the sheets. ROSS is up at eight reading the e-mail. The rest are up at 09:30. Our host works swing today - is off the next two. We stay in all day. It’s 90+ outside and air conditioned inside. We actually watch a movie together - the first time in at lease six months. Nap time. Dwayne comes home at midnight. We eat and stay up ‘til three talking., Life is good!

Tuesday. July 1st, 1997

This is fun. Up early writing reports and stories. It’s the third day after he contest. The secret is that being number two gives us all the power. No decisions to make. Just move in our own time. Phil Ross calls his sister on her birthday. It’s the best conversation in over thirty years! It’s also her daughter’s birthday. We’re looking forward to ‘dropping in on them later in the month’. Boi rodtney is introduced over the phone as "The Love of my life, for the rest of my life." She seems to understand this.

Master Ross decides to tackle the old 66 Buck lesser out behind the garage. It won’t start and the tires are flat. Deep down in the truck is a battery charger. We drive around, drop the film off; pick up a power inverter at Radio Shack and an air pump that plugs into the cigarette lighter. Post cards to into the box at the Post Office. Back home Ross pumps up the tires; charges he battery, pours some gas into the carburetor. boi rodtney is playing with the computer in the truck. he is taking videos of the house and yard which he just mowed. We’ve adapted to the Midwest.

Room, the Buck starts! Run’s rough though. Gotta mess with the carb and timing and all that. By dusk it’s been test driven and sits in the driveway beside the house which in on the corner. Dwayne is happy - fixin’ chicken for dinner! 21:00 hours and Ross falls out. boi & Dwayne look at the video’s.

Wednesday, July 2nd.

Grouping for the next phase. Packing for Memphis and Atlanta where we’ll stay with the new title holders. Another super hot day. Gotta repeat yesterday’s run. The air pump burned out; the cassette adapter don’t fit the truck radio, and Dwayne forget to pick up the film. We were supposed to meet a guy whom we’d met on the Web; but he hasn’t called. Gonna get it all together and get a good rest. Taking time to get this up for you to enjoy as well.

Thanks Dwayne! Good luck on your new life in Atlanta. Life is Good…. All the time!

NOTE: We invite you to read our report on the contest on the News Section as well as our commentary at the ROSS & ross ‘WORD’ Page. This will give you the flavor and the perspective of how it all fits together Be well, and Peace! More soon.

Thursday, July 3rd, 1997

Cant’ believe this… We stayed up all night again getting ready to leave Oklahoma City. During the sweltering day we’d done some running around chasing film and car parts and doing some scanning at Kinko’s (pictures to accompany this diary).

Our host Dwayne came up with a surprise idea: A professional photo sitting to take place at 19:00 hours. So we got all gussied-up in our dress leathers and made it down to the mall. Turned out to be great fun and an hour later we picked a group of 12 shots to take home, plus an 8X10 of the three of us.

Ross, the Master mechanic left a happy Dwayne with a clean and running ’66 Buick standing proud our next to the garage.

Then it was time to start packing the truck again. By now the whole thing had to be repacked. We spend the first three hours re-packing everything that goes into the truck - yes, we did over pack; plus, we’ve got the video equipment and camping gear. boi rodt has not got the computer and video operating off truck power - the CD player too. With a cell phone we can do the web while cruising down the highway at 75mph.

Took three hours to pack the stuff and another six to get it all in. But it looks great, everything’s assessable and we still have our platform bed available if we want to sleep in the back. Not bad.

At 7am we’re on the road. It’s already over 90 degrees. After a ways down the road we pull off to nap at a truck stop. Soon we’re headed east on 40 towards Little Rock out through the Ozarks which are lush and heavy green this time of year. The pressure to make miles is off now so we pull off to explore a local lake and get gas. We buy pecan logs and look at all the trinkets with confederate flags all over them. Yep, we’re in the deep south.

Just outside Little Rock we stop for gas and KFC, A big woman walks up and asks where we’re from? After seeing our gay and leather flags on the back of the truck, she said, it’s nice to see family. "We’re going to the N.O.W. convention in Memphis." It was four women in the Explorer, all from Houston, driving up for the weekend. Folks out in these parts don’t think twice about driving six hundred miles to do anything. Thing is, it looks the same at both ends.

Right on target we see the Memphis skyline at 6pm. Traffic is heavy and the temperature index is 106 degrees. We park right beside the Mississippi River to watch the barges go up stream. The river is at 19-1/2 feet which is about normal. More pictures.

Found a phone book and boi called for directions to the local ‘leather bar’ - the Pipeline. Inside the bar we meet the locals - all friendly. It’s softball league regional finals this fourth of July weekend. A Black and White couple is pointed out to us and we go over to chat. They’ve been together for 13 years and are all full of questions about our lifestyle which to them is kinky and full of pain which they aren’t into.

We try to call Vincent Astor who is the publisher of the local gay paper but his phone is busy. Taking phones off the hook is common practice in these parts. So since we haven’t had any sleep we decide to get a motel and rest up for the drive on into Atlanta for the 4th of July fireworks. It’ll be a lazy 400 mile drive across the edge of Tennessee on Hwy. 64 over to Chattanooga. Boi rodtney is all nervous about dropping down into Mississippi and Alabama. Master doesn’t much like the prospect of driving in Louisiana either. But actually he did this run a year and a half ago with his former slave with no problem what-so-ever. The police are out in full force for the holiday. And in Louisiana, especially New Orleans, they’re the lowest paid in the country - less than 2 grand a month in some cases. So there’s incentive for messing up. We’ll stay north this run

It’s July fourth!

Up at a quarter to six - rather Master is. boi is still sleep which makes for quiet time to write the diary and listen to local TV. rodtney stay’s up later and does his work then. But, gotta get going to make our time. So, "Up An Attem, boi"! Motel 6 outside Memphis. It’s two hours later than expected. A sudden wave of depression hits Dad. Can’t shake it either so just have to live with it until it decides to lift - like a storm. Trying not to project it - just flow with it. We ice up the chests and head out not realizing that we’ve forgotten to check out, even.

A few miles down Rt. 40, we find the State 64 turn off. Man-Oh-Man, its truly the Mid-south. First two lane, then four - divided; it passes through every little community along the way - straight across Tennessee. Everywhere are acres of lawns freshly mowed with ride on tractors. On just about every intersection there's a little grocery - just like the corner stores in the big cities. We spot two Black guys sitting on chairs out in the middle of a huge lawn. They’re about 2* feet apart facing the road with heads on their hands, elbows on their knees, just watching us pass by on the road.. It’s about 9 or 10am. Fruit stand - stop! Fresh Apple Cider, peaches and black raspberries to munch on all day. Yes, this is the flavor of summertime travel.

There’s farm land, mostly corn or cows - hay is rolled up in huge balls. The towns are quiet, like Sunday mornin’ ‘cause of the holiday. Once in awhile we see a barrel bar-b-q beginnin’ smoke. We pull off into a park along the Tennessee River just after its crossing. Out comes the video equipment. There’s a huge barge coming upstream around the bend and jet skiers are dashing back and forth. The Tennessee is gentler and straighter than the Mississippi. Ross has wanted to put an RV on a barge and go up from the Gulf to Ohio one day - and perhaps will one time soon. We make pictures, drink our first coffee and roll on throughout the early afternoon.

Each town has it’s Wall Mart and Piggly Wiggly Market. This is the Davy Crocket Highway. The is also supposed to be Saturn country - they’re made here. We never see even one of these across the whole state. But there’s loads of pick em up trucks. All the dealers have trucks in front. No cars, just trucks. And tractor dealers selling Kobota and New Holland equipment.

East Tennessee is hills - even mountains… we’re going through Cumberland Gap on our way South to Georgia. Just inside the border we stop at the Tourist Information Center to get maps and such. We call ahead to Atlanta about two hours away. We get directions and head down the road at 75mph. The green forests are lush under a bright blue sky with puffy white clouds. It’s still hot, in the 90’s.

As we enter the greater Atlanta area there’s Queer Radio to listen to. We learn about the upcoming "Queer-stock" weekend on July 11th to 14th at "The Other Side club and a coffee house in Decatur. It’s a show about queer music and musicians worldwide. Real interesting. boi rodtney is talking about the B’52’s who are from Athens, GA - and also the group R.E.M. Seems he knows the entire genealogy of these groups from his young years.

No problem driving around the parameter of North Atlanta on Rt. 85, straight to our friends complex. It’s new, situated in the woods of course; greetings are warm and cordial; real Southern hospitality. Master Roger has sent his boy bill to pick us up and bring us back to a party in the city. So we grab some stuff and jump in their car - a new white Park Avenue with gray leather seats and duel air conditioner controls. Bill gives us the cooks tour as we pass through the downtown skyline. Atlanta is big…. The party is at a medium size home with granny house in the back. It’s covered by huge trees which have red, white and blue lights strung all up in them. Time for some food and ‘punch’ and conversation with the locals. Everyone’s out - a true sampling of the neighborhood.

Just as it gets dark we all move to the front yard and into the street. Seems it’s home-grown fireworks time. Man, O Man, Oh Man; our host is a pyrotechnics freak - and gay to boot… The show lasts a half hour and it’s better than most small towns can boast. Georgia doesn’t sell it; but all the surrounding states do so the run has produced rockets, pinwheels and cloud bursts that rise up hundreds of feet directly above us. There’s only one dud that sends us scurrying for cover as it explodes nearby. Everyone’s cheering and shrieking. Welcome to Hotlanta!

Saturday, July 5th - Atlanta, Georgia

We’re up in time to wash the bugs off the truck and make it shine again after almost 3,000 miles of travel. Some friends are coming by to take our hosts to buy a new computer. It’s essential now that they are International Titleholders. Boy bill cooks us up grits and biscuits and gravy with sausage and eggs. Soon we’re in the truck headed back North about 45 miles to the mineral and gem museum in Carterville. This is for boi rodtney who is an intuitive crystal healer. It’s worth the trip for both of us.

We leave out and head East to Lake Lanier. This is absolutely the place to live if we were to move here. It’s one of those lakes with fingers like an octopus and surrounded by trees, trees and more trees. Everyone’s out on the water today and we decide it’s the best way to see the area as well. But we have to go back to town because the plan is to go see more fireworks and head out to the Eagle.

We rest instead of fighting the crowds. There’s chicken pot pies, home made, in the oven. The Eagle welcomes us about 11pm and everything’s jumpin’ with Bears everywhere. The bar is two floors and a patio with an outside stairway to view from. After some formalities, we find the dance floor for some well needed boogyin’ Outside, we hear a friend’s voice. It’s Jim Lanier who’s from L.A. but lives down in Jonesboro, Georgia. It’s a nice reunion. Ross was here visiting him last year when the Hawks won the pennant and everything stopped for the celebration.

All these men make us horney and we get home late (the bar closes at 3am), in time for some hot sex. Steamy - Not; the house has air conditioning.

Sunday, July 6th

We’re heading out - first to church and then east to the border of South Carolina where there’s a gay resort called River’s Edge where we intend to camp tonight. We got up early to get to church on time. boi called the CoRS (Church of Religious Science) one more time and got a live person. The church we wanted to go to, they told us, is the Hillside Church and Truth Center. We got the number and called. A very nice southern Black women answered. boi, "We’re in Beaver Ruin area, how do we get there?" "Oh, well you take 285 south towards the airport and get off at Cascade road, turn left , go about 2 miles, it’s on a hillside, ya can’t miss it." We missed it. We followed her directions and ended up past the airport on the other side of town.

After two frustrating phone calls, we still were not sure on how to get there from where we were. They couldn’t tell us the exit before OR after the one we needed. We finally gave our frustration to Spirit and got back on the entrance to 285, which turns into two entrances, north and south. Spirit said north, although we thought south. So north we went, and to our amazement there was the exit, right there. We discovered when she said go south on 285, she meant go in a southerly direction, and take 285 west. We then followed the rest of the direction in reverse and got to the church just after the sermon started.

The church was a beautiful round structure and it was very apparent from the neighborhood and the cars parked in the lot that this was a very affluent Black neighborhood. There were a few Honda Accords, but the majority of the vehicles in the lot were Benz’s and Lexus. The Sermon was good, delivered by a smooth soft spoken male Revered. (the Reverend of the church is Dr. Barbara King, who was absent.)

After church boi requested Sunday brunch in town. We decided to go tothe Little Five Point area of Atlanta, which is a very bohemian area of town, somewhat like the "Height" in San Francisco, but nicer and cleaner. But once again it took us hours to get there. We stopped at the Hyatt and asked. They gave us written directions which said. "leave lobby and turn left…." We found out you "leave the lobby and turn right. After getting lost again, we ended up at the Jimmy Carter Museum. boi went to the entrance to ask for directions while Sir stayed in the parking lot, taking pictures of classic Packard automobiles that were here on some classic automobile convention. boi came back with pr-written directions to Little Five Points that were completely different from the other two we obtained. We decided to follow the tourist map we had and went down North St. ‘til the "end" and we should be there. But it didn’t end. We stopped a cyclist and asked. He advised us to turn around, turn left and the first light and three blocks, "you’ll be in the middle of it." Finally,the first inkling of someone knowing where they are.

We were still dressed in our Sunday leather and it was hot. At the café, a waiter said to boi, "It’s a little hot for that stuff, isn’t it?" boi replied, "That’s the fun of it." Waiter, "I’m not gonna touch that!" and walked away. Brunch was great! Sir had two eggs over easy, sausage and toast. boi had fired potatoes with baked beans on top, sausage, a two thick slices of southern bacon, three scrambled eggs and half a bagel. We both had coffee, Sir, hot, boi iced. We asked the waitress at the café where the MLK memorial was. She looked down at us real puzzled and said "Gee, I don’t know. Well, good luck." And walked away.

After brunch, we happened to pass a piercing shop. boi requested to go in and look. Sir had been looking for a stainless steel spike for boi’s septum, but they were a little pricey at the Gauntlet. We asked about theirs and were delighted to find that their prices were about $30 less. boi walked out of the shop with a new three inch 8 gauge stainless steel spike. Thank You Sir. Then it was off to see the MLK memorial.

We asked the women at the piercing shop where it was. Once again, blank stare. "MLK memorial, hummmm, well, somebody knows where it is." From the front of the shop a soft voice spoke. "You’re trying find the MLK memorial?" Well, just follow Euclid in front of the store, bear right at the end , follow that about 6 blocks, turn right on block over to Auburn and it right there on Auburn. You can turn sooner and drive down Auburn to get the flavor of the neighborhood…" FINALLY someone in Atlanta that can tell you how to get somewhere. boi looked down and thanked this very sweet soft spoken girl and noticed she had a locked collar around her neck. The only person in Atlanta who knew her way around town was a fellow slave.