Bumpy rides and not so happy landings

Hey hey hey, well it's been a pretty eventful last couple of days I guess. Firstly I've been working, we were down to just three staff so it was busy, well you do the math, three people doing the jobs of six, it doesn't work real well. Gosh, I'm sounding American, must have something to do with having an American boyfriend. But fear not, I'll not start wearing odd and outlandish clothes, spelling things funny, talking in a Mid-Atlantic accent and being so brash it's positively annoying to everyone in a 10 mile radius!

When I wasn't working I was either sleeping or conversing with Matt on MSN and cleaning the flat, it's amazing how dusty things get, even when you've not been there. OK, to be honest I haven't done much cleaning since I jetted back from the good old US of A - well come on, there is only so much a boy can do in the time allotted to cleaning, which has up until a few days ago a big fat zero! Mt advice has always been anyone under 30 should not dust, as they should be out doing far more interesting things than dusting. Those over 30 should not dust, because time is running out and you don't know how much of it you have left, (Time silly, not dust!) So cleaning has been done in a rapid and perhaps not exactly successful fashion, but there is no mountain of unwashed clothes in the bedroom, the carpet in the lounge no longer resembles St James Street after a Saturday night and the kitchen surfaces are sans a pile of dishes which means I no longer have to eat my lunch/dinner/tea/snack from the back of a hard backed version of the Gay Man's Guide to Domestic Bliss! ( I knew that gift from an ex's mother would come in handy some day!)

One of the major things happening at the moment is the run up to Brighton Pride, the whole of Brighton has been transformed with the colours of the rainbow. Yes the colours of gayness are proudly flying from windows, walls, shops, cars, bars, clubs and the odd person all around this wonderful city. It's always a surprise to me to see so many flags each year, some from places that I would not be expecting, like the Conservative club, the Tattoo place and the Brighton Working Men's club! But up they all are, I'm sure some of the businesses displaying the flag are only doing so because the town is jam packed and bursting at the seams with gay folk from all over the country and even the world! Obviously they are trying to cash in on the spending of the pink pound, and who can really blame them. Gay Pride brings in millions of pounds to Brighton, so it's no wonder they all want a slice of it. Most are pretty gay friendly anyway, if they are not, they know damn well that their business will suffer long after all the tourists have gone - gay men have long memories, at least as far as service goes. There is also a lovely feeling about the town, yes it's packed but it's also happy, at least if you are not hanging around the pier or West Street and then it's common straight chav hell, but hey, no local or self respecting poof heads there in the height of summer or a Saturday night!

I'll be watching the Parade from The Old Stein as usual, along with Angus and a couple of his friends from out of town. Plus I think Mo is going to be there and I'm sure to bump in to some of the girls from work as they are popping around, which will be nice. I so looking forward to it, obviously I have other reasons to be happy that day, but watching the parade is always a highlight of the day. So many sights, so many sounds and all marching merrily on to Preston Park, which when I passed by yesterday was pretty much already tented and decked out. From looking out the window of a north bound coach, I know that there will be yet again far too few toilets for the estimated 200,000 people coming down for Europe's biggest free gay event. Many a tree in the park with have an extra watering I expect, but hey, when ya gotta go, ya gotta go!

Now just why was I heading north on a coach I hear you think and ponder, well, I was heading toward the airport called Gatwick as I had a very special birthday delivery to take collection of. Yes, the passport came in time the ticket was booked and the flight taken. In short Matt was coming over, and far more quickly then I had first imagined. He left the States on Wednesday night and was due to arrive at 9am Thursday morning. So I raced out of work and hopped aboard a passing National Express charabang to the Worlds busiest single runway airport. I made the terminal at just a little after 9.30am, the same time the baggage from Matt's flight was being plonked on the reclaim belts. I knew it would be soon he'd bound out the automatic doors in the International Arrivals hall and in to my waiting open arms. I plonked myself at the far end, so I'd see him as soon as soon as he passed through the doors and there I waited and waited and waited and waited and waited. I saw plenty of tags on bags of passengers passing by me from the airline that Matt was on to know that the flight had not been late and the baggage mysteriously deposited at another airport or was indeed floating somewhere in the cold Atlantic. I waited and waited and I must say that I did get a little concerned. First I had a little fear that perhaps my young Yankee lover had gotten cold feet at the last possible moment and was still stateside.

Then I had a phone call from a withheld number, now, I don't usually answer withheld numbers, I just don't. But on this occasion I did, luckily, it turned out to be some rather rude, condescending and homophobic buffoon from Immigration called Tony. He informed me that Matt had been detained and they wanted to check him out to make sure he was not a criminal or he was staying for much longer than his allowed length of stay without a visa for of 6months. He then asked me some more personal questions, how long I'd known Matt, where we met, what I did, what Matt did, how long he was staying, who was paying and on and on it went while my heart raced and my body felt numb. This, the voice of doom told me that he didn't know how long Matt was going to be detained for, it could be 1 hour or it could be 8, if they let him in at all.

After the phone call was done, I raced outside to have a couple of ciggies, my nerves were all over the place, after that I got a coffee and a sandwich from Costa Coffee, served by people whose first language was not English and had no idea what a double shot cappuccino was, until I explained. I sat there for a while, then I had another ciggie, during the phone call I was told that they would call me if and when they had further news or wanted to formally interview me. To say I was worried was an understatement, but at least I knew then that he hadn't got cold feet and was in the country, well OK, technically he wasn't, at least not yet, but you know what I mean.

I took up another seat so I could see those doors that arriving passengers come through, I tried to read my book, but obviously my mind was all over the place as my eyes were all over the page. Flight after flight after flight came through and still no sign of Matt or call from immigration. Then suddenly at around 12.30 a voice called my name over the airports PA system informing me to go to airport information. I went and there was a lady from immigration waiting for me. She took me to a desk and then asked me a lot of questions. She told me that the reason Matt was being delayed was that our storied didn't quite match up and they needed more info. So I calmed down, and chatted with her, answered all her questions, she was nice, friendly, positive and was completely different to the disembodied voice on the phone, the homophobic Tony. I asked how long it would be, roughly, as I had a food delivery coming to my house at 3pm, she told me that she didn't know, but said that at 1.45 she would give me a call and give me an update. So there I waited, and waited and waited. Even though I'd been at work since 8pm the night before, I was not tired, I was just stressed and worried.

Exactly at 1.45pm my phone rang and it was the nice lady again. "Hello Jason, I'm afraid" my heart sank to my feet. "Matt's coming down to you now, he'll be along the corridor any moment now" I was overjoyed, completely, but a bit of an emotional wreck, but as soon as I said thank you to her I could see Matt walking along. I ran toward him and hugged him. At bloody last! It's been a bit of a bumpy ride and a not so happy landing, not the kind of welcome to the UK I had hoped for him, but at least he's here, at least he's with me, for which I am so incredibly grateful.

Matt will do the next post here on The Seafront Diaries and tell you the whole thing all over again, but from his perspective, so please come back for that soon. I'm now going for a smooch with my beloved. Take care of yaself till next time, oh and if you are coming down for pride, have a great one and a safe one and look out for me and Matt in matching white 'Love' T shirts with the O of love shaped like a heart and yes it's rainbow coloured! Come say Hi !!