Brokeback Burrito Line

I try to be as polite as I can be in public, but sometimes people make me eavesdrop. They don't hold a gun to my head, but they talk so loudly about a subject, I can't help but be involved in the discussion whether I like it or not. Sometimes I'm able to bite my lip and weather the verbal storm. Other nights, I'm not so lucky and just have to speak up.

A prime example of this happened while waiting in line at the Chipotle Thursday night. I was stuck behind a couple of guys whose voices carried like motivational speakers. Their intimate conversation was more like a lecture to the entire restaurant.

"I gotta tell you something, but you gotta promise you won't laugh at me," the tall guy wearing the bright blue old school Minnesota Timberwolves jacket and matching pants that made him look more like a peacock than a basketball fan told his buddy.

"Spill it, man," his portly friend with the shaggy sideburns said.

"I got totally duped into going to see a movie that was a million times worse than a chick flick," Peacock said.

"What?" Pork Chops asked. "Some foreign crap with subtitles?"

"That would have been cool compared to this," Peacock sniffed. "Now before I tell you, keep in mind I was totally deceived by my girlfriend."

"Sure, sure..." Pork Chops reassured him.

"Well, she told me it was going to be a western," Peacock said. "I was really excited. Westerns aren't made much anymore. I hadn't heard of any good ones coming out but I had just watched Tombstone again so I was totally stoked."

"There's a western movie out now?" Pork Chops asked, scratching his head.

"Hardly! She took me to fucking Brokeback Mountain!" Peacock screeched.

"Brokeback Mountain?!" Pork Chops shrieked. "Isn't that some kinda gay movie?"

"Yes it's totally gay!" Peacock said. "I ain't shittin' ya. It's about these two gay cowboys who knock boots one night, but then try to act like they liked chicks all along and get married and stuff. What a bunch of bullshit!"

"Wow, that's messed up," Pork Chops said.

"Tell me about it!" Peacock said. "I mean, who's heard of a gay cowboy? There's never been one!!"

I was stunned. Not about the movie's content, and certainly not about whether or not cowboys had life pardners. Just the fact that this guy didn't know that the movie included homosexuality. It would be like not knowing Liberace used to play the piano.

"Yeah, why does Hollywood have to make everything so gay?!" Pork Chop yipped.

The short African American man standing in front of me with the perfectly manicured nails, black platform boots and purple velour coat shifted in his spot uncomfortably. I figured he either A) liked the movie, B) was possibly homosexual, or C) was Prince. I decided at some point I would have to become involved in this silly little discussion.

"Think about all the cowboy movies and you can't find one gay cowboy," Peacock complained. "Eastwood? Bein' gay wouldn't make his day! Lee Van Cleef? Don't show him the beef. John Wayne? Fuck no!"

"No, no, no!" Pork Chop chirped. "And that famous cowboy song is called Home on the Range, not Homo on the Range. It's where the deer and antelopes play, not gays."

"Oh, come on," I finally interrupted. "You guys are kidding, right? Do you really care if there was a gay cowboy? Because surely there was at least one at some point in history. Heck, there might even be a gay Dallas Cowboy right now."

"No way!" Peacock said, spinning to address the line. "If anyone can show me proof of a gay cowboy in the entire entertainment industry, I'd pay you $100 right now! My money's safe because there's never been a gay cowboy. Ever."

"Ahhh, hold on just a sec, you might want to start fishing for that Benjamin," I said. "What about that dude from the Village People?"

Prince and most of the people in line erupted in laughter. Peacock's proud strut stopped. He unzipped his jacket. Either he was feeling the heat or it was an attempt to puff out his plume and attract even more attention.

"Village People?" Peacock asked. "You're screwed. They had an indian, not a cowboy."

"Not so fast," I said. "Yes, there was a Native American. But there was also a cowboy."

"Bullshit," Peacock said, rolling his eyes back trying to remember the YMCA video. "We know there was the indian. The lead singer was that cop. Then there was the biker guy... a construction worker... and some military guy."

"And?" I said, loving that I had this homophobe concentrating on every member of the Village People.

"Shit," Peacock said. "There was a cowboy."

"Yeah, it don't git no gayer than the Village People," Pork Chops agreed.

"Sorry buddy," I said. "I tell you what. I'll cut you a deal. Buy everyone in line who had to listen to you babble bullshit a burrito and we'll call it even on the $100."

"That's a load of crap," Peacock said. "You cheated. I meant there's no gay cowboys in movies. Some gay guy who dresses like a cowboy and sings don't count."

I reached at straw hats trying to come up with a potentially gay cowboy. All I could think of was that dude from Urban Cowboy who wore the mesh T-shirt to the honky tonk bar. And maybe cartoon horse Quick Draw McGraw. I was totally stumped and disappointed I couldn't keep pushing Peacock's buttons.

"What about The Lone Ranger?" Prince suddenly asked. "He wears a powder blue jumpsuit, a red scarf and a sexy little Mardi Gras mask. Does that sound like the wardrobe of a straight cowboy?"

"Hey, he rides Silver, not Tonto," Peacock said. "He's not gay. Or is he? No! Kemo Sabe ain't indian for gay. I think. Oh, crap, maybe he is gay!"

"Ha ha, don't sweat it, baby, I was teasing you," Prince giggled. "The Lone Ranger is not gay. I can guarantee you a gay cowboy would not be caught dead wearing a white hat after Labor Day."