The Sunday night drag show at the Rainbow Mountain Resort in the Pocono was kitschy but not really my thing.
I might be gay but I’m not that gay — I just don’t get the appeal of men dressed as women and lip-synching to some Broadway tune.
And it had been great weekend but I was tired and my back ached.
“Hey Morgan, are you ready to go?,” I said, turning to my dude.
“Yeah, sure if you are ready I am too,” he said.
So we went back to our room, turned off the lights, and called it a night.
After getting back from Los Angeles a week ago Morgan noticed I was a bit stressed and not sleeping well so suggested we get away for the Labor Day weekend, his treat.
What about Atlanta Pride? We had waited too late to book a flight and hotel so it would have been too expensive. Plus our friends down there said the event is over-hyped.
Rehobeth Beach? All the hotels were booked. We would have had to get a hotel 20 miles away from the Atlantic.
So I went online and found the Rainbow resort just a 4 1/2 hour drive northeast of Washington, D.C. in Pennsylvania.
It’s a rustic, old place — not a four-star hotel by any stretch. But it was restful, the food was decent, and we met a lot of friendly gay couples from New Jersey, New York and other parts of the northeast.
Plus you didn’t have to go anywhere — the resort is ground zero of gay culture in the region and attracts folks from all over.
It reminded me of the documentary “Small Town Gay Bar,” which looked at how important gay bars were to rural LGBT people living in parts of the south..
It featured an Olympic-sized pool (where we played water volleyball with a very funny and very bossy lesbian named Michelle and her cool buddy Travis, who she nicknamed Travesty), its own gay dance club (with a karaoke bar downstairs appropriately called the Down-Low Lounge), and quaint white cabins with yellow trim.
And at least one celebrity was running around — Carson Kressley from “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.” I never watched the show but I still recognized his face.Which shows what an impact the show had on mainstream culture.
Morgan swears Carson, who was surrounded by an entourage of very well coiffed and dressed gay men, was the one running around the halls of the lodge at night, knocking on people’s doors and calling out, “Room service! Nastygram! Room service! Balloonarama! Postal Service! Milkman!”
I didn’t open the door to see who was making all the commotion.
Here’s some other photos I took: