Be forewarned: Parts of this are gross. Love y’all!
Happy January Halloween, everybody! Last Halloween was supposed to be my first ever expedition to Universal Studios’ famous Halloween Horror Nights, but, of course, that didn’t quite work out as intended. So, in honor of my dead and decaying dreams, here’s a bunch of nonsense about attractions at Universal, because this is my ultimate love language and I LOVE YOU. YES YOU:
Bi #1: Jurassic Park River Adventure
I feel… pretty okay right now. Like, I’m just sort of pleasantly floating along Hadrosaur Cove lately, you know what I mean? But I know my brain’s maintenance guys are total bullshit at their jobs, so we’re never more than a step away from careening wildly into the Raptor Paddock.
Jurassic Park is the best part of Islands of Adventure, right? Like, all offense to Hogsmeade and none to Marvel Superhero Island, but IT’S FUCKING JURASSIC PARK. You get to walk through the gates and hear the music and everything! You can eat a churro and pretend you’re just taking a little snack break before going to see a triceratops.
I MISS THEME PARKS.
Again, though, I really do feel okay right now. It’s like when the ride stalls on you sometimes, you know? I feel just sort of suspended in this strange, quiet limbo where I am floating and am surrounded by animatronic dinosaurs and I do not feel at all that I am in peril. I know the ride will start moving again someday and I’ll have to confront that damn T-Rex, but for now… for now I just float.
I think part of it is that I finally feel close to comfortable with myself, but we’ll get there.
Also, I want to point out how hard I’ve worked to feel something like okay. I take my meds and I’m in, like, three different kinds of therapy right now. My point to that is this: if you’re on the fence about pursuing some assistance for your mental health, I really can’t recommend it more highly. Take your time and guard your heart, but please know: You deserve to feel good, you sweet baby iguanadons.
Bi #2: Real quick: (I need y’all to know that, while writing this, I said OUT LOUD to myself, “What’s the horniest ride at Universal Studios?”)
The answer, of course, is: The Incredible Hulk: The Ride at Islands of Adventure. I mean, no offense intended to anyone I have had or may have sex with, but those first ten seconds of The Hulk are more powerful and meaningful than any orgasm I think I have ever had. There’s no time to think or worry or second guess yourself, there is just a roar and a blast of gamma radiation and then you ARE FUCKING FLYING.
I am tired of thinking and worrying and second guessing myself and I am lamenting my lost Coming Out year when I didn’t get to roar and gamma radiation my way through a bunch of gay bars and just fucking go for it, you know? I mourn this lost year as if I am actually brave and like I wouldn’t have just spent all of those nights at gay bars like I did the only time I actually did go to a gay bar: drunkenly crying on the porch of MSR with Adam and ignoring Vinnie’s attempts to get me to hit on the cute bartender.
I am tired of thinking and worrying and second guessing what I want, what I think might feel good. I touch myself at night a little like it is still a punishment and fucking fuck, I have got to got to try a little tenderness! But I touch and kiss a little like the Incredible Hulk: fast and hard, because if I take my time, you will see through all my cracks and you will notice how truly bad at this I probably am. I am not languid or sensual or any of those sexy words. Wrong superhero catchphrase, but it is ALWAYS clobberin’ time as far as my pussy is concerned.
I have this fantasy of going to grad school and meeting another genderqueer person. They’re sweet and they’re wearing a flowy robe and I meet them at their gallery show. (My fantasies are extremely specific.) They will take pity on my thumping, gamma radiated heart and they will teach me how to take a fucking breath. They will teach me that we do not have to race in order to make it over the edge.
I think about them a lot.
Non-Bi: Mostly because I think it would piss her off, I’m gonna say Harry Potter & the Forbidden Journey for this one.
BECAUSE SHE WILL NOT TAKE UNIVERSAL STUDIOS AWAY FROM ME. YOU CAN PRY MY PUMPKIN JUICE FROM MY COLD, DEAD, GAY HANDS.
Also, because Forbidden Journey is sort of like Harry’s greatest hits for his first couple of years at Hogwarts and fuck, I am about to go through puberty AGAIN. I am two weeks into taking a low dose of testosterone (10 points to Hufflepuff!), and I am waiting with bated breath for anything, for everything.
I am ready for oily skin and a cracked voice and being hungry and horny all the time. All I do is read articles and watch YouTube videos about what to expect and so I am expecting fucking everything. Even though, of course, everyone is different! So, I can’t really predict specifically what is going to happen to me. Only that SOMETHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN.
(Side note: MAYBE something is going to happen to me. I’m not totally convinced I’m doing these injections correctly at all. It’s a huge-ass syringe and a tiny amount of medicine and when I stick myself it just feels… anti-climactic, I guess?)
It does feel a little like magic, having the ability in the palm of my own hand to change my destiny. Not to be a total dork, but that huge-ass syringe is like my magic wand and the testosterone is like the unicorn hair core, right?
I am looking forward to the day I got to go ANYWHERE, but especially back to a theme park and especially as myself. I always agonize about what to wear to a theme park, because I want to take pictures and I want to look cute and happy. Maybe in the future it won’t feel so hard to put together the PERFECT OUTFIT, because maybe I’ll already just feel cute and happy, you know?
If you’ll allow me just one more attraction reference, I am especially looking forward to The E.T. Adventure. Steven Spielberg tells me that E.T. needs MY HELP and Steven, I will die before I fail you. So, I give the ride attendant my name and they hand me an Interplanetary Passport and I board my bicycle with E.T in the basket and we take off to the Green Planet to save the fucking day.
And at the end of the adventure, E.T. thanks you for your help. He thanks you by name. I really can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to hearing E.T. say thank you to “Daniel.” There I will sit in my easily-chosen t-shirt and shorts and I will probably cry my goofy eyes out.
And then I’ll stroll into the sunshine and get another churro.
The point is that I will stroll into the sunshine.