Fire Island is a mind f*ck. What do I mean by this? Well, we’re meant believe that this gay getaway helped give rise to the circuit party, the gay orgy, and a whole host of debaucherous combinations of drugs, sex, and rock n’ roll disco. Well I spent a portion of my weekend out there recently and found it to be somewhat more benign than I remember not only from years past, but from what Facebook friends’ statuses and photos had lead me to imagine.

Now, let me begin by disclosing that I was invited out by colleagues that are some years my senior and arguably (well, blatantly) not on the same level when it comes to partying as my friend and I. Nevertheless these are the events as they unfolded which lead me to believe that the articles that have been written about Fire Island no longer being a welcome place for young gays, or solely a party haven for homosexuals, may have some truth to it.

We arrived in the afternoon and, after stopping at our hosts’, made our way to the beach, surprised by kids running between our legs. The calm and serenity elicited by the clusters of middle aged and retirees in beach chairs, was punctuated by lots of passing eye candy, many with dogs, and one group of young queens singing Disney songs and consuming massive amounts of Grey Goose and Crystal Light. Though I agreed their antics were a bit annoying, I couldn’t help but smile at the two boys sharing a towel while singing A Whole New World, or the entire chorus joining in for Part of Their World. After the show ended half the crew scampered off to their house, and not long after their ring leader apparently out for the count, facedown on a towel, began puking repeatedly into the sand. Though not the prettiest sight in the world, it didn’t seem to be quite the cause for alarm the elderly folks nearby deemed it to be.


A few minutes later they had flagged down three beach policemen whose advice was to get water and get him inside, much to the old fogies distress who were hoping for a full blown medical transport. Finally one middle aged man begrudgingly offered his assistance at the shrill insistence that they keep it down that night since he noted his house was near theirs. The whole scene made me feel sad to think how far the generations had drifted and how discouraging the older generation was of the younger enjoying the beach the way they no doubt did decades ago.

After a wonderful dinner and conversation that seemed to be bring my friend and me closer to the older generation of guys we were staying with, we decided to venture out to see the nightlife. In the city you always know what kind of crowd to expect when you go out, but out on Fire Island it seemed like a strange mix of seasoned vacationers and only a handful of fresh faces to keep it interesting. Everywhere I looked couples held hands, sipped cocktails demurely, and yawned through the drag queens’ performances. The young guys that were out seemed to be employed by The Pines and at this stage in the summer were over the scene.

So we took off for the Grove through the storied Meat Rack and met with only the subtlest of glances and absolutely none of the sex scenes I recall from only two summers prior. Had the fun really been washed away from this summer’s voluminous rain showers, or was the island shifting towards a retirement colony?

Nevertheless I did enjoy the escape and beauty of the island, and though we may have been in the minority, the ability to be our young, gay selves and appreciated by other inhabitants was a welcome feeling. But on an island where faces are hidden by sunglasses, glorifying the parade of naked torsos up and down the beach, and are only partially illuminated at night by the moon, I couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t me that was being seen at all, but just another young body who’d come to play.

At gay bars in the city, youth is so visible you immediately spot any geezer lurking in the corner. Perhaps we shun them, ignore them, make them feel like they are no longer welcome, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that some of those who are old enough to afford a summer share on FI don’t want to have to sacrifice their peace and quiet to accommodate the whims and disregard of the young who appear in stark contrast to the majority of its visitors. We have to learn how to play together at home and away if we want to share the spaces we all lay claim to. To society we want to appear as something more than ‘gay,’ and yet to each other we appear as nothing more than our age. Privilege is not exclusive to age, young or old, but respect and understanding can always be applied.

Something to keep that in mind for all of you attending Ascension this weekend.

Appeared originally on homo-neurotic.com on 8/14/09