Work-related fun

Tonight, an organization in which I am an officer (the Association of Healthcare Human Resource Administrators of Greater New York...that's a mouthful, isn't it?) held a cocktail reception at Madame Tussaud's, on 42nd Street in Manhattan.

The price of the reception was cheap, considering that it included access to Tussaud's, plus hors d'oeuvres and an open bar. It actually cost a dollar or so less than the usual admission price! (AHHRA was subsidizing the event.)

So, several days ago, I asked Marc if he wanted to go. He did, and we headed into NYC after work.

I got to introduce him to some of the people whose names he had been hearing for years. When I introduced him to our President (of AHHRA, not that other one) as "my partner", there was a momentary look of surprise. Not displeasure in any way--Bill's a nice guy (and a New Yorker, so gay men aren't exactly alien to him)--but just surprise. I come across as pretty straight, and I think this sudden revelation floored him.

I introduced Marc to some of the other folks, and we had a nice time. As for the rest of the evening, we got to tour the museum and see all of their various wax statues.

Some of them were eerily accurate imitations of the person on whom they were modeled. Many others, however, elicited comments from Marc and me like, "that looks nothing like ___________________" and "who is that?" after which we'd have to consult a name plate to determine what celebrity the thing was supposed to resemble.

So after a couple of hours there (between the cocktail party and the museum tour), we headed out. We were hungry (hors d'oeuvres go just so far) and tired, so we decided to head back home, rather than spending more time in Manhattan.

When we got to the LIRR train, we couldn't find seats. So we stood near the doors. Across from me stood a young man.

He was tall, dark and quite handsome. He looked to be in his early to mid-twenties. His hair was gorgeous. It looked like he hadn't done a thing with it, and it still looked so great that it would have been a sin to style it. Oh how I'd have enjoyed running my hands through it.

His eyes were brown and sparkled with life. His legs were long (leading me to fantasize about them being wrapped around me), and his feet were huge (if you think that means anything--if nothing else, it helps with the fantasy!) :)

Then it got better! He started talking to me! He had an interesting accent. There was a touch of French to his English, but just a touch. At one point, later in the ride, he answered his cell phone and spoke in what definitely wasn't one of the Romance Languages. No, it was something else. So, with the quasi-French accent, I'm guessing he may have been from some former French colony (like Morocco, for example).

Mostly, he was just concerned with whether he was on the right train. He was, and I told him so. We chatted a bit more, and, as the trip progressed, we stole glances at each other. No, not in the "I want to take you home" way (well, at least not on his part, I would think), but he gave off a vibe. I dismissed it, as I thought I saw him look at a girl who passed by.

The crowd thinned when we got to Jamaica station, and we all got seats. Once Marc and I were sitting right next to each other, Marc told me that he thought the young man was "on our team." I don't know if that's so. In fact, I'll probably never see the boy again, but it's a nice thought! Funny that Marc thought that after I saw him looking at us in a certain way, and thought "nah, I'm imagining things!"