Barnes and Nobel and Lesbian Porn-Travel

Apparently, the place to meet people in Manhattan is the travel section in the Barnes and Noble in Union Square.

I say apparently, because that’s where, a few weekends ago I was accosted by two men and one woman.

(And, of course, accosted is a wild exaggeration. Apparently I think that if someone speaks to me in a public forum other than a bar I am being accosted).

What was I doing in a bookstore in the first place? Much less the travel section? I mean, let’s be clear: I only read books that contain gratuitous sex, gratuitous violence, and/or gratuitous incest. “Virginia: A Historical Guide to her Plantations and National Parks” has none of those things.

In truth, the travel section borders the Gay and Lesbian section.

For me, the Gay and Lesbian section of the Barnes and Nobel holds much intrigue. See, unlike Matthew Mcconaughey’s pants, I have no idea what is in there because I’ve never had the courage to step inside.

What are the books like? Are they like books like…“Gone with the Wind” but only everyone’s gay? Or, are they all coming of gay stories? Or are they just books filled with straight up kinky sex? (This is obviously what I’m hoping for).

So basically, I was hiding in the travel section trying to muster up the courage to make my way into the Gay and Lesbian section. I was about to leave the safety of the widely accepted travel section when an overly loud voice stopped me in my tracks.

“LET ME ASK YOU JUST ONE QUESTION!!!”

Startled, I looked up from the “Bosnia on a Shoestring Budget” I was pretending to read, and found a very smiley, portly man wearing a trench coat. Panicked, my eyes darted wildly around, hoping that he was speaking to someone else. He wasn’t.

“Um. Yes?”

“WHY WOULD YOU EVER WANT TO LEAVE NEW YORK???!!!”

I had a choice. I could relent and have a conversation with this man, who was clearly harmless, and whom I’m sure was very pleasant…OR I could close my eyes, clamp my fingers over my ears and count from 1 to 10 as loudly as I dared and hope that he disappeared by the time I reached 10.

I obviously chose the second option.

When I opened my eyes, my portly friend was gone. I looked to the left and to the right. Okay. The coast was clear. It was time to make my way to the Gay and Lesbian section.

I took a deep breath. And-

“Excuse me!”

I turned. There stood a very attractive young man wearing hiking gear and carrying a backpack. (I mean, I realize I was in the travel section, but COME ON. Was the trail mix attached to his climbing tool belt really necessary? Was he planning on scaling the escalators?)

“Um. Yes?”

“Do you know which brand is the best?” He asked me.

“Um. Brand? Of Book?”

“Yes!” (He might as well have said “Nuh duh!”

“Um, I’m sorry. No. I don’t.”

“Oh,” he said.

Clearly disappointed in my lack of travel-book knowledge, he turned away. Two seconds later, a semi-attractive girl walked into our aisle. I guess he only had one pick up line cause he proceeded to ask her which brand was best. She knew the answer, probably because she was actually in the travel section to find travel books as opposed to biding time before she went to gape over gay porn, and of course this little conversation ended in her giving him her number. I mean. REALLY?

Shaking it off, I kept the goal in mind. Just like a mountain climber thinks to himself, “I am going to make it to the top of Mount Everest,” I thought “I’m going to make it to the Gay and Lesbian section of Barnes and Nobel.”

It was not to be.

Here’s what happened:

I was slowly making my way, much like a hero in slow motion walking away from an exploding building right after he’s saved a family of orphans, to my destination. I was almost halfway there when a woman popped up in front of me and said:

“Hi! Do you know where the books on New York are?”

Smiling, I pointed to the New York aisles that couldn’t have been in more plain sight if they had had flashing, blinking, neon signs pointing to them.

“Oh, thanks! By the way, my name is Chris!”

“Oh…hi,” I replied, confused.

I was also frightened. Why the fuck were people so friendly in the goddamn travel section???

“And your name is…?” she enthusiastically prompted.

That was the last straw.

I put my head down and mumbled, “I don’t know, I have to go,” and turned, head still down, and walked rapidly to the escalators.

Before leaving the bookstore, I probably should have stopped by the self-help section seeing as how I seem to have people skill issues, and have an unnatural gay porn obsession, but it was almost 5pm and it was time to start drinking.

Lessons learned:

1) Order gay and lesbian literature off of the internet. This is, after all, what it’s for.
2) Put on makeup the next time I go to Barnes and Nobel. I seem to do very well in their travel section.