One Night In Rehomo. Finally.

I have a long and somewhat sordid history with the town of Rehoboth Beach. I grew up about forty-five minutes away in Dover. Almost every year (from the time I was born until somewhere in my mid-teens), my entire family would spend a week there. We'd rent a townhouse, bodysurf in the Ocean, ride the rides at Funland, walk the Boardwalk, play mini-golf, eat crabs at the Rusty Rudder, and spend humid summer nights playing extended games of Balderdash.

Needless to say, I enjoyed every minute of it. Until the summer that my dad showed me "Jaws." The night before we spent a week at the beach. I was ten years-old. After that, I enjoyed everything about the beach...except going in the ocean past my waist.

The summer I was thirteen, I'd pretty much hit puberty. I'd grown hair "down there." My shoe size was changing almost monthly. And I was started to develop my first real crush. On Vanilla Ice.

For some reason, my parents had tried to set me up on a "teenage boy play date" with my Mom's best friend's son, "Danny." Danny lived in Rehoboth all summer long, so he knew all the "cool" places to go. And by "cool," I mean the arcades.

As we were shuffling around the main drag, we passed by a windowless bar called "Blue Moon" that had monitors facing out onto the sidewalk. They were playing videos I'd never seen before and didn't understand (I swear to god one monitor was playing something involving a man singing and dancing in a giant bunny suit). I tried to stop and watch the videos, but Danny pushed me along...explaining that it was a place for "fruits." Suddenly, I realized that this nondescript blue storefront was a bar for gay people.

At that time, thanks to the liberal use of "fag" as a put down in junior high, being gay was the last thing I wanted to be. I had read a book on puberty that explained same-sex attraction was sometimes just a phase, so I'd convinced myself that I was just in one of those "phases." Yet that moment in front of the Blue Moon, where Danny called it a place for "fruits" stuck with me. Weeks. Months. Even years later.

It was around that same time I discovered that Rehoboth Beach, the place of my childhood vacations, had more than one gay bar. It had become a summer vacation spot for older gay men and women (mostly from the DC-metro area). In fact, it was considered SO gay by some of my high school friends that they simply referred to it as "Rehomo."

I haven't been to Rehomo in the summer since high school. Well, there's one exception. When I was eighteen. It involved me, a couple of high school friends, the Rehoboth Beach Police, and a couple of pairs of handcuffs. I would elaborate, but I'm not one to "overshare" on a forum as public as the internet. (Yes. I know. Biggest. B-lie. ever.)

Needless to say, when Jeff and I were planning East Infection 2008, I insisted that we start in Rehomo. Being older, wiser, and no longer in a "phase," I knew that Rehomo wasn't the booming gay fantastia that I thought it was in my weird repressed adolescent fantasies...but I needed to go. I wanted to go. I had to experience it for myself.

* * *

I attempted to plan the perfect night in Rehomo. Jeff and I were going to go out to get crabs at the Rusty Rudder (Jeff had never eaten authentic Maryland crabs before). We were going to head to Funland where I was going to finally conquer my fear of the Haunted Mansion (Although I had been through the Haunted Mansion twice before, I had never seen the inside...because I kept my eyes shut the entire time). And then, we were going to get a couple of drinks at the Blue Moon.

However, things didn't quite turn out as originally planned. It all started when we arrived at Rusty Rudder and were told by the fourteen year-old hostess that the Rusty Rudder didn't serve crabs anymore. Except for Alaskan Snow Crab Legs at the Buffet. (And if you know Maryland Crabs, you know that Alaskan Snow Crab Legs are for pussies.)

So we left the Rusty Rudder feeling very dejected.



Eventually, thanks to the help of the nighttime desk clerk at the world's best themed bed and breakfast, we ended up at Lazy Susan's. Where we ate the best crabs I have ever eaten in my entire life. Watching Jeff work his way through a crab for the first time was also kind of amazing.



After the crab deliciousness, we returned to the world's best themed bed and breakfast and ventured out into the night...to see what the Rehomo "nightlife" was like...on a Monday night. Expectations were very low.

Thanks to my very in depth online research, I'd discovered that Aqua Grill and the Blue Moon were the two places we needed to check out.

We walked by Aqua Grill first, there were a total of maybe six people milling about the outdoor location...so we headed to the Blue Moon to see if they were any busier.

The Blue Moon had moved. To a bigger, "better" location. One block off Rehoboth's main drag. The monitors and windowless bar-front were long gone.

As we approached, my stomach dropped. And I began to sweat ever so slightly. Even though I've been to more than my fair share of gay bars, this one made me nervous. It wasn't the group of dudes standing outside on the smoking deck. It wasn't the sign out front that declared that jazz singer Pamala Stanley was performing every night of the week. I had become that thirteen year old boy again. The one that didn't want to be a "fruit."

I made Jeff walk past the Blue Moon and turn the corner into an outdoor shopping courtyard. He patiently waited as I calmed down. I took a couple of deep breaths, before announcing that I was ready. We turned around and walked back towards Blue Moon. We made our way through the group of dudes on the smoking deck and into the bar.

It should come as no surprise that the Blue Moon wasn't the gay fantasia I imagined as a teenager. But it really didn't matter. I had seen the inside of the Blue Moon.





A few drinks and two bars later, Jeff and I ventured over to Funland so that I could finally "take on" the Haunted Mansion.

Unfortunately, it was closed.



Yet somehow, it didn't really matter.