Twiggy St. Thomas USVI

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Photo of Truman Capote ( a more maco looking Twiggy) no Twiggy photo available-

The Safari Lounge-St. Thomas USVI circa 1976-
The Safari Lounge/ jungle as some referred to it, for it was a kick ass gay and straight dance bar, it was if Noah anticipating the flood had instead of filling a boat with the male and female gender representatives of all the species of the animal kingdom had instead filled a bar/boat with all the species of the real animal kingdom-humanity, gender depending. It was mix and match and hope for the best.

I am almost a new kid on the block or rather rock, as the locals affectionately called St. Thomas. Recently having only months before given up my Main Street street vending art dealing career, as Drahcir the Butterfly man ( Richard spelled backwards) proved to be too much competition, his alias may give a clue as to his success, I am now the owner/busboy/barback of a new business venture called Jelly’s. a seafood/salad bar Chart House knockoff restaurant which in my opinion was ‘World Famous Since 1976” the year it opened, my landlady/lord bless her is one of the Islands grand old dames, Elly Heckert, Island business pioneer and author (Muscovado 1968) now retired , Elly is good friends with the author Robert Ludlum, who has a home on the Island and who spends many an afternoon at Jelly’s writing , and more than once he and I, or is that he and me? my chef Kirtley from Nevis and` Bernard the waiter from Antigua are the only ones having lunch in those early days of my “World Famous” deal.He loved the privacy an empty restaurant offered, me not so much.
One sultry Island night Elly, Bob, and I and the owners of Hotel/Restaurant 1829, Vernon Ball and his wife Eva decide to take a dance on the wild side and head downtown and up from back Street to the Safari.
Bob and I are busy bull sitting at the bar when a friend of mine, good looking Boston Dennis grabs a stool next to us to say hello, Dennis had been to the Safari before and had come prepared for the jungle fight, in his sports jacket inner pocket he carried with him the full center page cut out from Hustler magazine , this was for self-protection , for when he was approached, which was often by a gay man wanting to boogie the night away and asked to dance or just chat, he would pull out the centerfold photo and wave it in his wannabe dance/conversation partners face, it had the same effect on gay men as waving a crucifix had on Dracula , they suddenly lost their rhythm and disappeared so to speak. Dennis was not in our company for more than ten minutes when he sure enough was approached by a hopeful dance partner, Dennis did his crucifix thing which Bob unlike me was not aware of beforehand, his spurned dance partner off in a huff and a puff,Bob almost fell on the floor laughing, as did I, that move never got old.
A few lucky minutes later at bar side and my side sits a good looking hippy boatie gal, Cat is her name, or so she said,we strike up a conversation and soon hit the dance floor to show our moves , or rather her moves, mine were basic, wait for the slow dance and get as close as possible to your partner, after a few moments of bonding and smooching where we explored each other’s dental work and are lost in mutual rapture when low and low again I see a small and very unusual looking tiny man, he looked a bit like Truman Capote and to be honest, less macho looking
Said person taps my new lust on her shoulder as I take umbrage at what I considered his rude move of wanting to cut in to dance with my partner, especially since it was mid smooch; however I am unpleasantly surprised when in fact he indicated it is me he wants to slow dance with! More than surprised am I.
I politely declined saying thanks no thanks, but he was insistent, rudely so I might add.

Persistent little bugger-y, he looked wounded but not frail, more the appearance of a wounded cornered animal, so to ease the pain and the strain of the tense moment I told him not to despair and that since it was late April and nobody had yet asked me to the prom, maybe he could ask again in a few weeks to see if my dance card has been filled, maybe then I would give him a shot, surprisingly? then it was his turn to feel that umbrage deal, offended, he then as if by magic left in a huff and it seemed a puff, he who did not seem like a magic dragon or drag queen, , but who indeed did live by the sea. His name I was to find out was Twiggy, the hero of my little sordid story, well maybe not a hero but the huff , stuff, puff and gist of the story never the less.
So the night and bacchanal went on, but the dance lights and music were eventually silent, so to the man cave my new love and I a wandered. As the dawn broke through the skylight in my bedroom and its glare woke me up way before my time, I feel a presence to my side, I have absolutely no memory at that moment of the night before, other than I was at the Safari and some odd looking gay guy had asked me to dance, so I glance oh so slowly to my side and behold? A hairy armpit! I more than quickly returned to my prone position, as quietly as possible, for in a flash it all then came back to me, the Safari, a Twiggy person, my promise to that person about the Prom and and my dance card, I thought to myself, is my timing off and the Prom was last night? and looking at the skylight and the heaven above and praying that I had not turned at the wrong corner the night before, gathering all my courage I once again cop a gander to my side and as luck and a divine power would have it, it’s my new true love Cat, hairy boatie hippy armpit and all.

I looked once again towards the heavens and thanked the Sun God for ? For just being with me when I needed ---someone--else![]