An unabashed tale of the journey to International Party City. While going Dutch, with your boyfriend, here we go.

Hi everyone, Kenneth Neal here (call me Ken). After returning from an eventful stay in Miami, this scholarship winning poet and sci-fi novelist felt compelled to share his not-to-be-missed experience with readers across the globe. Follow this adventurous lad as he provides an insiders look of the perks and pitfalls of travelling while in an open-relationship from an honest yet sarcastic/humorous point of view. Missed flights, public tantrums, a possible Obama encounter, a really bad Mnage trios attempt, and a 6AM return flight. Think "The Hangover" meets "Planes, Trains & Automobiles", only this is the non-straight version. Only to return with a relationship in ruin and all delusion of love lost and famished. So yeah, join us in the trip into ridiculousness, I bring you:

-Dedications: To Robert Without you, none of this would have been possible, and for that, I'm truly thankful. To "David" Your hospitality was more than appreciated But dude, are you OK?

Sample Table of Contents:

-Buckle Up, The Prelude ............................................... 7 -Arranging The Event ................................................. 12 -Friday 7AM ............................................................... 15 -Departing Gate E14... Or A7???.................................. 20

-Checking Into Ma-ma-ma-madness ............25 -Boardwalks & Ocean Breezes ....................29 -Texting The Ambassador ..........................33 -Foot Soldiers For Starbucks .......................37 -The Club: Getting Twisted! .......................41 -Crusin Lincoln Mall Drive ..........................51 -Michelangelos David ................................73 -Party Of Three .........................................84 -Sunday 4:30 AM.......................................90 -A Viper Returns, Part 1 .............................94 -A Viper Returns, Part 2 ........................... 101 -Sunrise & Sunset .................................... 106

-Buckle Up, The Prelude

I wanna double check to see if everyone is buckled in securely before we start this rollercoaster. Everyone good? Ok! We start this tale in August 2008 with origin of Robert & I. Similar to most modern romances, we first connected online through the use of various chat rooms. We have been inseparable ever since the anxious and elusive 1st face-to-face encounter. Now surpassing our 3-year anniversary, Robert and I have been a live-in couple nearly 2 of those years. This after colliding into one another without the intent of letting go anytime soon. ***Gasp*** An interracial gay couple in the Deep, Traditionally Conservative Southeast: 1-African American. Military Brat, Computer Geek hailing from the West Coast. Above average intelligence and height, athletic or what some might call "lanky" build. 1-of strong European decent. Roaming scholar with dual citizenship originating from the U. K. Hits the gym at least 4-times a week and it shows... And he shows it off well. There was talk of Rob's work visa preparing to expire and having to go back to the U. K., plus he wanted me to go there with him.

He would jokingly claim that he would have to fold me into his luggage and smuggle me into England. I knew that was extremely far-fetched back then, but you'll never know. Of course the discussion of marriage, or using the more P. C. term as forming a union has been tossed around on numerous occasions (mmmm, being tossed around, YES PLEASE, whoops, going off topic there, apologies). Current guidelines/regulations of our progressively developing State and Country have been long-time opponents of a union that is less than traditional. So instead of adorning ourselves with shiny bands of commitment, we share personalized Military Dog Tags around the neck (and no, there not the glittery & bejeweled kind neither) in order to meet our symbolic needs. Both are fairly well traveled; all the while enjoying each others company. Both sharing similar interests in shopping, gadgets, ElectroHouse and Progressive Trance music, Project Runway and Celebrity Apprentice, who knew?!? We also focus on providing each other with enough personal space so that we do not appear to be a pair of conjoined twins as well. The foundation the relationship has been built upon was of a nonmonogamous, open season type of philosophy set from the very beginning. Generally, any opportunity is fair game, either go on the hunt solo, go on the hunt for prey together, or what prey we find on our own and bring it home for both to share. And yes, if sex is the final result of this meeting of the minds, hooray! So be it, the more the merrier. Its a great pastime really, and a wondering eye has never killed anyone before nor has it done any bodily harm, just "bodily appreciation". One can only hope that their fellow man can exchange the complement and reciprocate the same gesture with subtle looks and glances. No need to fight an urge we, as human beings, are

predisposed towards flirtation and stranger-danger on a daily, hell, even on an hourly basis, we all know this much is true! The optimum goal while engaging in this usually exhaustive, yet carnally rewarding experience, has been to achieve overall mutual satisfaction for both of us. Engaging in P.A.W. (Participating And Watching) has been an unspoken fringe benefit Rob and I have long time established as an exciting routine. Its instinctual and a primal form of male conquest we all share and juggle within ourselves. Select discretion is the solution if one would opt to continue this kind of power-couple dynamic. There are frequent conversations to engage in, along with comparison shopping by showing the other who has contacted them, but ultimately coming home to open arms at the end of typical day. Almost two years before meeting Robert, I purchased a small home that could be considered to be a fixer-upper in most opinions. Sure it was constructed in the 1960s and required some cosmetic attention and a helpful dose of curb-appeal. However, the real estate market during 2006-2007 was ripe for a young investor who was secure in purchasing a home that is a scant 15-minute commute into the big city. Jump to 2010 and the house degenerates to 1/3 its value, and the number of small repairs has converted this investment into money-pit status. The need to downgrade was imminent; the procedure of both Robert and myself combing our incomes appeared to be proper course of action. The decision was final; the house has to go-go-go! After three real estate agents, multiple postings, countless man-hours burned, the house would not sell, it was never going to sell. The tension began to build, an old cigarette habit began to reemerge (oh, how did those packs of Marlboros get into my briefcase???). Which made this trip for

hopeful relaxation/rejuvenation even more an imperative stress-cracking venue. Our previous trip to Miami was a mixed bag of highlights and not so highlights during our stay. Confirmed, the beaches, delicious tropical climate, and the scores arrestingly gorgeous passersby are, without a doubt, main elements for making the migration to this shimmering city. We collected a scrapbook full of memory-filled photos, many of them taken showed the two of us as a happy pair making the best of what we had at the time (the photos with blurred faces placed before the Prelude as such examples). It is also customary for a trip such as this; we (either Rob, myself, or both of us) would make an effort to locate a contact point-person within our vacation destination. Locating a possible local host via online chat rooms has proven to be fairly successful in the past, we have both individual and joint profiles used to communicated with other users. These local hosts or ambassadors" are usually willing to share their time and their city with fun loving out-of-towners. Going out for drinks, showing us the best clubhouse, or whatever actions that might take place, the phrase "When in Rome" definitely applies. Mutual understanding of P.A.W. potential is key at the time of arrangement as well. Which is never a requirement, however if agreed on both parties, it can be considered, again, a fringe benefit. We, of course, make sure to return the favor once someone would embark on our hometown. Ive read somewhere that the first cardinal rule within the Laws of Alchemy and Magic: To gain you must give up something of equal value. So I figured this would apply with the experience of meeting potential ambassadors as it would benefit both parties involved. Cheers!

Our Fate Lies With The Holy Itinerary

-Arranging The Event

Friends, family and workmates have been notified well in advance of our ritual pilgrimage back to Miami. Of which has been highly anticipated with months of build-up, most importantly due to the constant daily stressors life and being contributing members of society has to offer. Traveling arrangements have been confirmed and divided between the two of us. After a rapid-fire series of negotiations, travel dates have been, at last, etched in stone. We are now on our way, starting with an 8:40 AM flight departing and our return flight back home on Sunday morning at 6:30 AM. Why so early you might ask (which was the same thing I asked as well, mind you...), it was to maximize our travel day upon arrival. Once we arrived, we can have nearly a full days worth of leisure and relaxation. The departure time to fly back home was also set early in order to take the majority of the day to ease back into a regular working week. At first I was thinking to myself, Rob, what is this? Are you mad at me and trying to punish me or something? Although I was not purchasing the tickets this time around, I make sure to smile, clinch my teeth, and say, "Excellent, sounds great Rob!"

I'm sure the early flights are generally less expensive than then later flights, which must have been the general concept considered during the purchasing process as well. Mmmmhmm Factors of price, convenience, and location were requirements we have been able to filter though the tried and true method of trial and error. Our hotel budget was a bit more generous during this outing, specifically due to our previous experiences while staying at a "this definitely not a 4-Star hotel" hotel. Hell, I'm certain that it barely passed for a freakin' 2-Star hotel, of which will remain nameless for the time being. While the atmosphere of that location was nestled within was some sort of "artist market" slash restaurant galleria part of town, it was also located nearly 5-blocks away from the beachfront itself. There was an old-world feel carried throughout this area, as if you have been transported back when roads were paved with bricks of clay and cobble with street vendors selling their art and craft. This might appeal to some; it left a lot to be desired with maybe too much action surrounding us during our stay. Mostly because of the overabundance of energy during the night hours proved that facade to be very contradictory to its intended easy-going theme. Surprise! Your 3-story hotel has a number of lively discotheques on the ground floor that operate well after 2 AM, spewing club and salsa hits for all to enjoy. While our primary focus was finding a cheap hotel to lay our heads and getting to the beach with little effort, we wont purposefully subject ourselves to that kind of ruckus any time soon. Success, the hotel I found is literally 1-block away from the coastline, and looks like a dream in comparison to our previous stay. I locked-in our reservation without hesitation and become even more

eager to our D-date as the days go by. To continue this surge of this uncharacteristically good momentum, I was also able to connect with a new Miami "ambassador" with the use of my favorite online chat-room. The week leading into our Miami arrival, our "ambassador", named David, will be on the lookout for us as well, hopefully being able to rendezvous at a popular and familiar South Beach nightclub. Back at home, our condo is literarily across the street to one of our city's rail stations. Fortunately, its ultimate destination would be our airport and our gateway to Miami freedom. The plan of attack would be to bolt across the street, hop on the Southbound train, then check ourselves in at the airport. All of which should take an 1-hour's timeframe from door to airport security line (crossing fingers). All-righty, everything could not have been arranged any more perfectly. Let us now light a candle at the Altar of the Travel Gods to ensure that this trip is successful and hassle-free. Salt over the shoulder. To which we say: Ah-men

Here I am, waiting on the #@$&$* train Come on! Wheres the #@$&$* train?!?!

-Friday 7AM

One would think that waking up in the morning of your travel date would be filled with smiles and giddy laughter between two grown men. To my disappointment, I wake up in a hurried state as Rob has been stirring around before my personal alarm clock was set to go off at 6:45AM. This was an odd sight to see, specifically since its 6:35AM and he appears to have been awake for some time now, nearly fully dressed and did not bother to wake me... I didn't over sleep at all, so what gives? Putting that aside, its time to get my ass out of bed and finish the last of my carry-on packaging, STAT! Brush the teeth and gums, wash the face, and throw on shorts & t-shirt, ready for the much warmer Miami climate, yeah baby!!! Even still, I wasn't able to acknowledge any sense of joy nor excitement from Rob's steel veneer. He packed his carry-on bag as well, however quietly and robotically, I'll go ahead and presume this to be a drowsy response to the early morning start. Thank the Lord that our condo is a stone's throw away from the rail station. On the way out the door, I mentioned to Rob that I will need to get a rail token at the station. Rob already uses the rail system on a

daily basis with a monthly pass in hand, so I heard his response in the form a grunt and a scoff; the only human emotion his has displayed thus far. . . Moving on, speeding ahead into the station, now with rail token in hand, we arrive and wait on the rail platform. Therein lies 8-stations between home and the airport, so that leaves us with 30-45 minutes of transport time. Easy-peasy, which should put us at the airport around 8AM and give us 40 minutes for security check-in and board once we arrive! All aboard, 7:10AM and we manage to grab separate seats amongst the surge of morning commuters. Separate seats still, even after adjacent seats progressively become available; Rob continues to cower into his current state finding adequate seating for himself. Appearing as if he's flying to a family funeral, yet another uncommon gesture since we normally sit paired up on extended trips. I decide not to infer, knowing him, even the notion of asking about his current state could erupt into volcanic proportions. Not something I wanna deal with this early in the AM while in a moving tube and in public no-less. I'd rather sit down, shut up, locate my MP3s and clutch our joint check-in bag closer to my leg. Strangely enough, the train has been making what seemed to be extra-long stops between stations. Elements of concern begin to gather within both myself and now visible on Rob's face as he makes repetitive nervous glances toward his watch. Only 3-stations have past and the train seems to make exaggerated pauses at each stop. The train doors would open to allow the patrons to come and go, but they would remain open for what seems like minutes at a time. Whether it was a technical glitch or based by some human means, each stop is costing us an additional 3-5 minutes!

Dammit Just face-slap me now please Were gonna be so fucking late man. Who could have foreseen anything to this scale, there was very little wiggle-room to begin with, time wise, that was something we neglected to factor into our morning schedule. Although, I have used public transportation for nearly ten years now, Ive learned that there is a 65% chance that your ride would be a smooth one. You can never gauge when fate would place you within the other 35 Shit Happens percentile. Once we finally arrive to the airport station, we rush like dogs to the check-in kiosk at 8:20AM praying for a miracle. After entering our confirmation code, big/bold red letters are splashed across the screen: ***PLANE STATUS: NOW BOARDING. ***UNABLE TO CONFIRM. ***NEXT FLIGHT IS 9:20. PLEASE CONFIRM TO CHANGE FLIGHT. ***UNABLE TO CONFIRM. PLEASE SEE TICKETING AGENT. Fucking great. Rob, myself, and my suitcase on wheels U-turn it back towards the ticketing counter, whizzing past the roped off columns and a member of the airline floor personnel. This helpful employee stops us in our tracks asking "excuse me sir, do you need any assistance checking in?" Well-panicked at this time, I claim my nerves in order to make a coherent response: "Yeah, the kiosk can't check us in; we have to go to the counter." "Oh, ok then, please continue and head to the ticketing counter." "VERY GOOD, THANK YOU."

Fucking sheep-dog, she has been assigned this position to ensure all of herd of customer cattle are pushed along and stays within the herd... Like a fucking sheepdog... Entering the ticketing queue, we are at last called to the live counter agent. "The kiosk says our flight is now boarding and its 8:20." "Yes sir, you needed to be here at least 35-minutes before departure." Rob and I look at each other with a silent tempest in our eyes. "You will need to change to the 9:20 flight. That will be $50 please." "Wait, what, the kiosk didn't list any fees!" "That's odd, there is always a transfer fee, can you show me what the kiosk showed you?" "By all means, let me show you." The dedicated ticketing agent walked around her counter to an unmanned kiosk and enters the series of codes & numbers. "Yes sir, I see, there is no charge to fly on stand-by for the 9:20 flight." "Stand-by? Where does it say stand-by on screen?" "Well that's what this screen displays, the current stand-by options." "That doesn't guarantee that we will have a seat now does it?" "No sir, that's why there's a $50 transfer ticket fee. You have missed your flight; please follow me to confirm the 9:20. " Stomping back to the ticketing counter, the agent proceeds with a rampage of random keystrokes: "Have you gentlemen checked in your bags?" "No, we just arrived." "Ok, will these be covered with cash or Visa?" "Visa."

"Ok, baggage and transfer fees totals $125. " "Wait, that transfer fee, is that $50 each?" "Yes sir, each ticket." "WHAT THE F... " Before I could finish my sentence, Robert places his Visa card to hush my mouth and secure the deal. Rob responds: "I thought baggage fees were $22?" "Yes sir, only if you check in bags online (gives him a subtle wink of the eye, charmed by his English accent no less)" I further the debate by asking "How can you check bags online? Whose gonna weight it? You know what, never-mind, lets just go... " "Thank you gentlemen, enjoy your flight :c) "

Caution- Doors now closing and will not reopen

-Departing Gate E14... Or A7???

The security checkpoint was filled to the brim. Ahead of us; a sea of disrobing commuters from wall to wall being funneled into available rows for scanning purposes. The all-knowing, watchful security personnel make sure they maintain order within the herd. Once we pass through this frenzy and re-gather our belongings, we proceed onward to our next stage; finding our gate of departure. The long escalator ride down towards the airport's Gate-Tran provided a short window of welcomed motionless activity. This allowed, at least for me, a few moments to digest some of the aggravation from earlier. It also gives me some time to rub my eyes, give myself a couple self face-slaps and realize "holy shit, I'm not dreaming this up! This is terrible!" Early morning eyes can also deceive you, grabbing my coveted boarding pass, I can see what looks to be the equivalent to alphabet soup printed on the pass. Each of the gates are broken down into stations, each station is listed in alphabetical order. With the sequence arranged: Station T (as in Terminal), A, B, etc. Once we load into the Gate-Tran, a few symbols on our pass stood out to me are "E14" and "A7", with "E14" in bold. "Ok Rob, we need Gate "E", sit tight."

He complies with a silent head-nod. Minutes continue to pass by, just the commuters continue entering and exiting the Tran. This dance continues as we drive through each of the gate-stations "B", "C" and hold up a second... Its 9 o' clock now and I take another glance at the boarding pass, forming together additional letters amongst the alphabet soup on the printout. "Oh crap, Rob. "E14" isn't the gate, its my freakin seat number! Not the gate. Its "A7"! We gotta go back! We gotta get off the Tran now!" The intercom overhead announces: ***Now approaching Gate "C". C as in Charlie*** Rob whispered response is barely heard amongst the moving crowd: "That's okay, we can just ride the tran back 'round to "A". "What? No! We gotta U-turn it now!" I gesture towards the exit door and Rob has not moved from his retired/resting position. ***Gate "C"-Doors now opening*** I proceed to haul ass out of the Tran among the surge of exiting passengers with my carry-on in hand. Turning my neck, I'm not surprised that Robert is nowhere in sight. ***Caution- Doors now closing and will not reopen***

Having to continue the push back to the parallel platform, my anxiety levels begin to breach past a tolerable state. Shallow breaths begin to follow as I realize that one of the worst case scenarios is about to unfold. Weeks of preparation has lead to this; with Rob and I, separated within this massive international airport, minutes before our re-routed outgoing flight. The southbound Tran promptly arrives to take me back to the "A" Gate, now two stations away. With little hesitation, I find a seating place in the new Tran, glancing back to the boarding pass to re-re-re-confirm at this point. Of course, the only letters I was able to retain was "E14" in bold, totally throwing me off track with morning weary eyes. As I approach the correct concourse, I can't help to self-evaluate; did I fuck up? Yeah, totally I did. Although, I would have hoped my travelmate didn't resort to stubborn donkey-like behavior during this escapade. Further, I didnt see any effort on his part to look at his ticket to correct the situation. Perhaps if we were walking into a towering inferno or into a barrage of Matrix-like gunfire, he would have noticed something wasnt quite right. But nope, now solo, I exit the Tran and plot my course towards the correct gate, frantically keeping a vigilant watch over my cell phone. No incoming calls from Rob, after making a half a dozen calls to him; I can only surmise that he is probably still riding another Tran in a tunnel underground thats well out of cell phone range. No time to fret, these tickets have been paid for, this vacation will not go to waste and I will be flying to Miami with or without Rob. Fortunately enough, as I approach gate "A7", the gate agents announce my seat zone has the all-clear to begin boarding the cabin. Its now 9:10, ten minutes until departure as I make one last cell phone call to

him and still nothing. Can't stand around the gate like a stranded toddler, I gladly hand my pass to the agent to gate-scan. During the boarding procedure, I clutch both my carry-on satchel and boarding pass with a pit-bull grip. While making my progress down the narrow cabin, I have to make sure that (a) I do not slap/side-swipe the already seated passengers with aforementioned satchel (b) confirming and reconfirming my seating arrangement by making the occasional glance downward at my ticket. Standing at a natural height at 6'2", this resulted to become more of a daunting task than expected. Out of some sort of interior design inspiration, the Aisle Markers on this aircraft are mounted on super-low displays. Like, near the Flight Attendant call button/dome light switch, super-low. Which meant that giant ogres, such as myself, would have to constantly squat their bodies in order to make the markers visible and eye-level. Pure genius, vertically challenged indeed. Yes! Seat "E14" is dead ahead and its neighboring seat totally unoccupied. Two Trans, three line queues, and one flight transfer has lead me to my rightfully deserved window seat. The rest of the herd continues their waddle down the cabin aisle, with all faces unfamiliar, and frankly, quite unflattering for the most part. Robert is still nowhere to be found. Strangely enough, the pilot makes an announcement over the intercom: ***Attention passengers, we're on the lookout for Robert N_______. Robert N______, please proceed to Gate A7*** Anonymity has its perks, of course I'm freakin' embarrassed and irritated at this point, but nobody has to know that this "Robert N_____" is attached to me. So I roll my eyes and groan like the rest of the patiently waiting crew members, as the clock strikes 9:20.

Buckling my seatbelt and securing my carry-on, I look outside my window with a heavy sigh, then whip out the cell and send one last distress text to Rob: ** Im on da plane, will wait at Miami airport ** Shoving my phone back in my pocket in disgust, I tilt my head in a backward recoil and gaze into the cabin ceiling above. "Why, why has it come to this? If I wait for him, our bags are still going to fly to Miami without us... He's gonna miss the fuckin' flight..." Thoughts race in my head as I tilt my head to a normal position and see the last passenger bringing up the rear, Mr. Robert N_____ himself, making his final waddle down the cabin aisle with an odd smirk on his face. I make sure our eyes do not meet by shutting them tightly in order to mask the personal shock and awe of his arrival. As he finds his seat next to mine, I jump, startled and disturbed, looking into his eyes with me, in a bewildered state. So you made it after all huh? I was gonna leave your ass here. They called my name on the intercom, do you hear it? Rob inquired with great curiosity. You were holding up the entire plane. We were all waiting for you. Im sorry. I got some bottled water and was talking with a friend of mine at the store. You whereTalking with a friend? Yeah, I cant believe I ran into him here at the airport, then I heard my name over the intercom! I cant believe this, I was a nervous wreck, I thought I was gonna leave you. Unbelievable! Oh, stop worrying. Im here now so we can go now!

With that exchange, the tone of this vacation has just been set. The two of us sitting in an all too close proximity, silent and recuperating from the mornings events. All the while, sharing a mutual sense of unnerving disdain while rising above the clouds amongst the Atlanta skyline.