4. Tanya

Here is a list of ten things that are almost as gay as Zemblanity:

A box of birds

A piccolo solo

A unicorn named Fernando

A pink, sequined leotard

Nude wrestling

Most of San Francisco

Most of the audience at a Cher concert

The cast of Rent

Frosted Hair

Two men having sex

As far as I can tell, Zemblanity has always been this way, which is impressive as the restaurant has been open since 1954, long before Stonewall and all of the advances made in GLBT rights since the 60’s and 70’s. Mr. Charles looks like a gay Walt Disney. His very effeminate affectations took some getting used to but he seems, overall, to have a good heart and to be a very sweet man. Now and again, something will startle him and he will gasp and hold his hand to his heart just like my mother does. He has always lived and dressed very neatly and conservatively. For 77, he is very healthy and full of life. I do not know if he was “out” back when the restaurant was opened. Everyone knew Andy Warhol was gay and Mr. Charles talks wistfully of the parties at the Factory and Studio 54 but Zemblanity opened almost two decades before all of that. Mr. Charles is certainly the oldest gay man I have ever known.

It may well make me seem like a young, naive, bright-eyed, small town boy in the big city to be so effected by such an openly out environment but, by god, that's pretty much what I am. And while New York has always been a decade or two ahead of the times for the queer community, it certainly isn't that way in much of the country. I remember this gay fellow in Boise describing his upbringing in rural Idaho. He truly believed he was the only person in the world whose gate swung the other way. At night, he would retire to his grandparent's trailer out behind their house. He liked it because it was lit by lamps instead of the florescent lights of the house and because out there, his radio got reception for This American Life. He felt that it was his only connection, his only lifeline to anything or anyone remotely like himself.

What would he have thought of Zemblanity, this absolutely faboo gay wonderland? In the "general store" (I use quotes because the "store" is really just the entry way and there isn't anything "general" about it) there are kitschy items like "gay accent breath spray" and a gay "choose your own adventure" book. It's called Escape from Fire Island and is all about a deadly and sparkly romp through one of the most fabulously gay resorts in the United States. Twice, I have ended up being abducted by Puerto Rican drag queens. Actually, now that I think of it, Mr. Charles has a vacation home in Fire Island.

The younger gay waiters are flamboyant and funny fellows. Perhaps because we straight employees are often in the minority, it is safe environment but the talk before opening reminds me of a locker room. I suppose I never realized that gay dudes are just dudes and make jokes as filthy and sexual as the straight set. But the talk always turns to blowjob technique, hot Brazilian boys, anal-sex innuendo, etc. It’s interesting how the straight waiters just roll with it, unbothered and unimpressed. I suppose being comfortable with this dynamic is a prerequisite for working at Zemblanity.

The gay boys tease me a bit but only in good spirit. They’ll wink at me and make dirty puns and flirt with me in harmless ways. It’s their way of including me. I have a great fondness for those boys.

I also find it somewhat amazing that the general manager, the true ruling power of Zemblanity, is about as dyke-y a person as I’ve ever met. Her name is Tanya and she doesn’t take shit from anybody. Each morning she struts in wearing her Yankees jacket and always looks like she’s ready for an all-out fistfight. Just about everyone is afraid of her, myself included. This is partly due to the fact that she sort of looks like a troll. This is also partly due to the fact that she usually seems so angry that she’s about to fire everybody (and she could).

Tanya is famous for being a total, hard-ass bitch. Everyone knows this and she does too. The most upset I’ve ever been at work was when she castigated me for five minutes in front of employees and customers alike for moving a chair away from one table to another, thus disturbing the carefully crafted feng shui of the restaurant. Then, about five minutes later she called me into her office and gave me a dressing-down for an equally minor detail. As I had been seating a group of women, I had said, “Well here we go guys. The perfect table reserved particularly for you.” She reamed me for another five minutes about calling women “guys.” She told me that she would hate for some lady to call in and complain about being called a guy, in which case she would have to fire me.

Fuck! I was so angry that it took every coiled up fiber of restraint to simply say, “Yes ma’am.” I could have murdered. Instead I went and got a double whiskey right after work.

On the other hand, there is a hidden aspect to Tanya and I sometimes get the feeling that I would really like hanging out with her if she wasn’t my boss. Old Miss Annette has about five decades worth of gossip percolating in her suspicious brain and she sometimes tells me secrets. One of the secrets was that Tanya has an enormous collection of dolls. Another of the secrets was that about 20 years ago, Tanya had my job as host.

The only time that I catch glimpses of Tanya’s interior life is when we are both on a smoke break at the same time. When she smokes, she bites down on the filter with her teeth and keeps it clamped there while she talks like a ventriloquist. She had been complaining about how legally complicated the restaurant business had become and I told her that it probably takes a double doctorate to run an operation of this size these days. “Honey,” she says, “the only school I ever went to was the school of hard knocks.” I had always wanted to hear someone say this in earnestness and there it was- a cliche come true!

Actually, Tanya had been pre-med before becoming involved in her father’s nightclubs and says in her very New York-ish accent, “That was fun. That was really, really fun. But now I wish I had the financial leverage to make everyone at this restaurant follow me around for a day. You would not even believe the shit that I have to put up with. It is unbelievable.” I suggested that we trade jobs. “I would love to trade jobs with you. I would truly love that,” she said in her harrumphing sort of laughter.

As we were walking in from our respective smokes, she told me that she had just killed a yellow jacket in her office. I asked if that was one of the job requirements. “No,” she said, coughing a smoker’s cackle. “That’s one of the perks. I get to kill things.”