I have known Michael V for 16 years but this is the first time we are actually boyfriend-free at the same time. I am witnessing Michael Untethered, alone for the first time in 14 years, able to do whatever he wants, and live wherever and however he wants. Lucky for me that the 'wherever' is in a very modern two bedroom apartment complete with a furnished guest bedroom at gay ground zero in Surry Hills. This trip to Australia gave me the chance to see Michael at all different times of the day and learn his habits and routines. It was my version of bird watching, only I didn't have to go to the Australian bush. I could just hang around the apartment and watch Michael, who was louder and fancier than the Cockatoo or any other bird in the wild.
One of the most fascinating and foreign things to me that I witnessed a few times was the nightly ritual of the conference call. Very few people ever witnessed Michael on one of these calls, so I felt privileged to experience it. I would sit across the dining room table from him writing my blog on one of his laptops as he sat facing my direction with his other laptop he used for work. The calls didn't include a web cam hook-up so he could wear his gym shorts and tank top as he talked into his cellphone on the table switched to 'speaker phone' mode. Michael led each call, orchestrating with perfect ease whichever three or four HR employees he wanted to talk to. He asked questions and then listened to thei responses, chiming in when he felt it necessary.
I always tried to stay very quiet when he switched on his speaker to comment to the group. I didn't want to ruffle any of his feathers when he was busy like this, or do anything else during these calls that would cause him to peck my eyes out. Occasionally, he would look at me and smile, and other times he would pass me notes that said things like 'if you don't stop watching me I'm going to bash your head against that marble countertop.'
Ever since I met Michael, I've wondered how a man who behaves like a high school girl is able to climb so high up the corporate ladder. Hearing him so skillfully juggle several employees as he comes up with answers or solutions on the spot to every question or problem thrown at him, I see why he's paid so well. He speaks in a way that commands respect but still manages to be playful and even bitchy when he wants to.
This is what makes Michael V such a unique person. He is in touch with his goodness and with his badness, and is happy to unleash both of these parts of himself out into the world without hardly any restrictions. He doesn't favor one part over the other, and never apologizes for the behavior of either of the two. He is not embarrassed to let both show, and really doesn't care if anyone is offended by them. He brilliantly blends the confident, assertive, shrewd business man he needs to be with that silly, sexy, stupidly generous and shamelessly shallow high school girl he wants to be. This cocktail of charecteristics makes him into what can only be described as a cross between Rupert Murdoch and Marilyn Monroe.
Getting the opportunity to witness Michael V in his natural habitat was a rare treat. I really didn't have to do anything else in Australia to consider it a successful trip. Michael thought otherwise.
" I didn't spend all that money flying you here and on that expensive camera for your birthday so you could take a picture of my ass blocking The Opera House at the Harbor Party", he said as he turned and walked into my bedroom and came back with the camera he bought me. "Here," he said, putting the camera in my hand. "You've got one day left before all the Mardi Gras parties start. Go and see Sydney. And I want proof. Bring me back a photo of The Opera House and of Manly Beach and of three other interesting things." He held up my keys to his apartment that he must have grabbed when he got the camera off the dresser in my room. " I leave here for work in 25 minutes. That's the amount of time you have to get yourself ready to spend the entire day out seeing the city. The door locks behind us at 9 A.M. and doesn't open again until I got home at 6 P.M." He dangled my keys in front of me then put them in his pocket. "Better start getting ready, darling."
As an extra punishment for starting my sightseeing so late in the trip, God sent down rain just to make my task more challenging. Luckily my friend Michael P gave me simple directions to get me from Michael V's building to Sydney Harbor. The wet trek was basically in a straight line, which meant it was almost impossible for me to get lost. I walked through Hyde Park and onto the beginning of Macquarie Street, where the original prison stands that was used for the British convicts shipped off to Australia, called the Hyde Park Barracks. A lot of historical sites are on Macquarie Street making it perfect for my high speed whirlwind tour as I headed towards the Harbor. Along the way, I saw the first Mint building and went into Sydney Hospital that looks more like a museum. Then I went into the Royal Botanical Gardens where I stood in the rain and took pictures as proof that I was actually there.
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| Sydney Hospital dates back to late 1800's. |
The Royal (And Wet) Botanic Gardens
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| I considered this fabulous woman in her eighties named Trish to be one of the most interesting sights of the day. |
What surprised me immediately is that The Opera House is actually three separate buildings right next to each other, which isn't overly obvious in many of the pictures I've seen. They actually look like a mother dinosaur and her two children sleeping on their stomachs sunning themselves.
Michael didn't say which part of the Opera House I should take a picture of, so I went inside to the lower level and took these shots of the mens bathroom. I liked how the the curves of the stalls and of the long singular sink play off the shapes of the huge curved domes of the buildings.
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| I made sure no feet were showing |
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| I waited until no one needed it |
I did take one shot of the Opera House from the deck of the ferry as we pulled away from the dock ( I tend to be drawn to the backsides of things).
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| These bonnets were the inspiration for the design of the Opera House roofs. |
It was pouring 20 minutes later when I reached Manly Wharf. There was no beach in sight, so I had to ask for directions. Already looking crazy walking around in the pouring rain, I frightened two separate people by stuttering on the word 'Manly', as I do quite often with m's. One of them got so scared that she just pointed in the direction as she hurried away. I had to ask a third time in a gas station before I finally knew where to go.
The beach was on the other side of the island from where Manly Wharf was. I started walking with my hat and headphones on and didn't stop until I found it an hour later. I crossed the last street and climbed down the wet sand covered steps onto the beach. I couldn't believe I was the only one there! What happened to the famous Manly Beach with all it's manly men? If they were really manly, they would be at the beach in the rain. That's what a manly man like me does. I mean a manly retarded man, which was what I must have looked like to anyone passing in their cars watching me taking pictures of myself on the beach in the rain.
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| I took a shot of my arm just to show how wet I was |
