"Pardon me," I said to a cute little blonde piece and his hag. "If I told you it was an emergency I don't suppose I could bum a cigarette, could I?" I smiled sweetly.
"Errrr, you don't even know what an emergency is," replied the blonde with a slight lisp, eyeing me and my ten dollar chiffon top with undisguised disgust. "Why don't you take your ass and fuck off back to where you came from," he spat, to which I remember wondering, back to where I belong as in England? Or back to where I belong as in back on that bench over there with my drunk-ass friends?
"Gosh. Sorry. I hope your night gets a bit better, love," I said, and then I ran off to tell on the nasty man that had been mean to me.
I was halfway to repeating the story to my table when I felt an arm round my shoulder. It was Blonde.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude to you, you sooooo didn't deserve that. Here. Take this," he said, and handed me my Camel before walking away solemnly.
I love the gays. They're so DRAMATIC.