By JR
Florida has a funny way of taking things the rest of world enjoys and making them trashier. Outside of the state’s biggest cities and most expensive zip codes, this state has all the refinement of a Jerry Springer episode, and the gay culture is no exception. One area where the trashy factor really shines through is in the run down mid-century motels turned into gay resorts. They litter the state and all have a similar feel: sparsely furnished rooms, poolside bars, and lush landscaping to keep activities somewhat private. One of these resorts on the west coast is pretty big and has some well attended themed weekends, so naturally I checked in for their annual leather weekend. I left my sometimes uptight professional demeanor at home, submitted to the fact that it would not be a weekend at the Four Seasons, and packed for what I hoped would be Florida’s version of IML.
I set my work aside early on Friday afternoon and headed across the state to the resort. It was exactly what I had expected from the online photos, perhaps even a bit cleaner and more updated. There were two long two-story buildings with second floor open walkways flanking the pool. The former hotel lobby and restaurant had been converted to bars, one with a little dance floor. The décor was part kitschy mid-century modern, part whatever the owners could find on the cheap. The place reeked of bleach, which I took as a good sign.