A Warm, Quiet Booth

This is an allegory about a man who seeks shelter from the cold, and forgiveness.

A bone-chilling hard driving rain envelopes the countryside. At the end of a long day, I drive my company car into the parking lot of a 24-hour, always open, adult bookstore and video arcade. I stop at these forgotten places when traveling on the job throughout the New England states.

I enter the door of the adult bookstore. Above me, sitting alone at his throne-like admittance desk, as in judgement, is the bookstore owner. He's an old man who smiles and kindly greets me. He has long white hair, and a flowing white beard. He hands me eight five dollar bills in exchange for the two twenties I've handed Him.

I thank Him and walk slowly to the arcade booths in the back of the building, which was once an ancient storage warehouse. I see cracked, yellowing floor tiles, and walls where the paint is peeling off. I am comforted by a strong odor. The pungent smell of disinfectant soap fills my nostrils. In the corner of the warehouse, I see a half-full bucket of filthy water, and a mop resting against the grimy, bathroom wall.

The day janitor has valiantly attempted to cleanse the sins of today's visitors to the glory hole video booths.

I select a booth in the far corner of the old warehouse away from the others. As I approach, my eyes are nearly closed, and my head is bowed. I pause for a moment before opening the door of the, light green, plywood cubicle. A familiar feeling comes over me.

I feel calm and my mood is hopeful. Removing my rain-soaked sales coat and tie, I drape them over the back of the pew-like chair. My warm booth is quiet as a church. I give thanks to the old man with the long white hair and flowing white beard for my wonderful moment of piece and silence.

In the corner of my booth, I see an altar-like table with a cheap, vinyl padded cushion on top. This table provides a convenient place for men to have sex. Top men and bottom boys would agree that having sex on a high, cushioned table is much easier on backs and knees.

I sympathize with Lesbians, Gays, Bisexuals and Transgenders. The lifestyle we have chosen allows for a variety of unconventional appetites. I could never pass judgement on any person who merely attempts to find love in a place like this adult video arcade. We must try very hard not to prejudge those who live their lives in a different way. We must try to be decent human beings to our fellow man. God will judge all of us on the day of reckoning.

In twenty years people's misconception of gays may change. Society may forget old hatred and prejudice. It was never our intention to corrupt our young sons and daughters. In the future, the letters: L-G-B-T may only be a memory.

Tonight, my warm quiet booth is shelter and sanctuary. I reflect on the terrible devastation brought by the COVID 19 virus, and I try to make sense of the crazy world outside this ancient warehouse. Our nation is terribly divided. Political mistrust, fear, and lawlessness have enveloped our land. People riot in the streets and bring death and destruction to our inner cities.

During the last century, Irish poet, W. B. Yeats wrote a poem in which he describes the bleakness and hopelessness in Ireland. He wrote, "Things fall apart; the center cannot hold. Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world. Surely, some revelation is at hand." Yeats writes at a time when unimaginable, tragic events have occurred to the people of his native Dublin.

The people of the United States have also experienced tragic events. They seek a return to the way things once were. I am not a religious man, but I am certain something extraordinary is happening. I am reminded of the Nativity scene, when the baby Jesus in the rocking cradle is born in Bethlehem. Two thousand and thirty-three years will soon arrive to announce The Second Coming. This year's events are surely His warning sign. Have we forgotten the bible's Revelation prophesy? Will Jesus return to earth to destroy us, or will He return to save us, only from ourselves?

These uncertain times are more than I can comprehend. Tonight, I want only to silence the loud voices inside my head. My boss called today to tell me I have the worst sales figures in the company. He suggested I may get fired, and I really need this job.

I slowly feed a five-dollar bill into the slot of the Adult Bookstore Collection plate. I've lowered the volume on the cheap plastic audio speaker behind the cum-stained, plexiglass window. Seated in my pew-like chair, I am hypnotized. My head bobs up and down. My eyelids are nearly closed. I squint at the naked people performing sexual acts on my small video screen.

Calm has enveloped me. My frantic thoughts are exorcized. I no longer hear loud voices inside my head. In my warm, quiet booth, my sins are forgiven, and my soul is redeemed.

A man cracks the door of my booth to ask if I want a bit of company tonight and a blow job. Quietly, I say to him, "no thank you." He closes my door and leaves me to my inner thoughts.

The altar-like table with its' cheap, vinyl padded cushion will not be used by me tonight. I slowly feed another five-dollar bill into the slot of the Adult Bookstore Collection Plate. Only the sound of a woman's muffled orgasm is heard from a video booth down the poorly lit hallway. On my video screen, I watch men and women make love, excessively and repeatedly.

Something clicks in my head, and I feel I should be somewhere other than this dusty, old adult bookstore. I have miles to go before my journey is ended. I quicken the stroke of my left wrist and shoot white drops on the yellowing, cracked floor tiles of my warm, quiet booth. The small video screen behind the cum-stained plexiglass window shuts off completely.

I am emerged in total darkness.

I open the door to my light, green, plywood cubicle and slowly make my way to the front of the adult bookstore building. I smile and say goodnight to the old man with the long, white hair and flowing white beard who sits alone peacefully at his throne-like admittance desk. The quiet of His solitary vigil is occasionally interrupted by the powerful north wind which howls outside His gray, reinforced, steel, front door of His 24-hour, always open, adult bookstore and video arcade.

I depart this old forgotten place into the dark, cold, rainy November night. I carefully make my way to my company car, which is parked in the pitched-black parking lot. I drive to the small New England town, where tomorrow morning, I will meet my new sales customer.

Arriving at my cheap, roadside motel, I get into an unfamiliar bed with its' strange pillows and soft, cool sheets, and I experience an uninterrupted, peaceful, and wonderful night's sleep.