TC-276 Bathhouse Blues
Bathhouse Blues
Trojan Classics
TC-276
Petrie Warthan
$1.95
Bathhouse Blues
Trojan Classics
TC-276
Petrie Warthan
$1.95
Excerpt
“Wanted: attendant for all-male health club. Apply between the hours of nine and twelve.”
So there I stood in the entryway of the Grecian Festival Health Club in the San Fernando Valley, asking to fill out an application for employment.
“Sure, Mary. Wait here a minute while I get the manager,” the swishy queen ordered while he swam off to find his boss. The ad had given no hint that the bath house was gay, but it was painfully obvious by the amalgam of bad taste that hit me as I stepped into the club to meet the manager: on the floor lay yards of cheap blue shag carpeting; the furniture was vinyl covered French provincial—I wanted to vomit; and a cement fountain bubbled away in a garden of plastic flowers as a color spotlight bounced its garish blue hue on the dripping water. Walking to the office, I quickly sidestepped to miss bumping into a plaster pedestal that supported an outlandish cherub-infested vase.
“Have a seat,” the manager instructed as he closed the door behind me. He took my application form and pretended to scan the information I had filled in. Having done the same thing myself so many times, I knew that he wasn’t bothering to read the inanities that I had scribbled on the form.
If he had studied the paper thoroughly, he might have questioned why a college graduate was interested in such a menial job, especially at the age of twenty-five when society would have expected me to be well along in the pursuit of my life’s work.
I must admit that I, too, wondered what the fuck I was doing applying for a job whose most rewarding duty was laundering dirty towels. But as I looked back on the events of the past two years, it was infinitely clear why I was where I was, doing what I was doing.
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