(Cliché) Gay Hell

So a few weekends ago I was in Kansas City shopping with a few friends and queens (I know, but it isn’t gay hell yet). We stumbled across this casual boutique-clothing store. Nice outfits but many were overpriced. In the center of this modern clothing store was a black iron fence that surrounding a small dark square opening in the floor. On the door hung a old paper sign, “Bargain Basement.” I elbowed my friend, Mike and we asked the old small Chinese women in all black at the register ‘is this was open’ (as if was going to stop if it wasn’t). The old lady smirked and tilted chin upward to say:

“oh, yes, yes, it open… go head”

So, Mike and I squeaked open the door to the black iron cage gaining the attention of a few of my other friends, and went down.

There stairs were old untreated wood enclosed by an open mortar and brick walls with no discernable light at the bottom. In the damp basement the ground was uneven and felt like dirt. Directly at the foot of the staircase was a large hole in the wall that look as if it was demolition created a doorway to a sealed room. This was covered in rope and nothing could be made out past a few feet of the imploded entrance other than a chilling breeze. To the right of the staircase was darkness and to the left was a patch wood doorway and in the room hung a single light bulb suspended by a swing cord. Though dull, it illuminated the store basement secret… shoes. That’s right pillars upon pillars of designer, limited edition bargain shopper shoes surrounded the room with piles of shoes up to my waist was in the center.

At the time we thought we hit gay heaven. One by one a gay came down and gave a *gasp*.

Shoes you cant even find in Nebraska and at a discount. Soon all six guys were down there rummaging and joking, though after a while the joking faded the talking ceased. One by one they realized there was no order to the stacks and stacks of shoes no sizes or matches. You couldn’t find the matching pair and if you did you couldn’t find the right size. Here they were, the sell that we had shopped for, and nothing to buy. One by one a person gave up and went back thoroughly frustrated, angry or dishearten. I stayed and searched for two hours, I found a shoe that I wanted, I eventually dug until I found a shoe that fit and then dug until I would find its matching shoe… When I found the matching size and model and in a furry of excitement tried them on only to find I had two left shoes. Bah!

We escaped this perpetual gay samsarah or a shoe shoping Sisyphus