I just knew what was coming when Boopy and I were walking down Irving Place, hand in hand, and I notice one "tank-top wearing, loose-pant hanging, wanna-be thug" white boy look at his friend and make a nod towards us. (Funny, his friend didn't seem to care.) As we passed them, under some scaffolding, I heard him start at a whisper, "Fags."
At first we just continued walking, but his calls became louder and more creative. "Faggity fags!" "Fucking faggity fags!" I'd had enough.
"Are you kidding me?!" I thought to myself. Then turning to face Boopy, aghast, and said quite loudly, "Fuck! That hick back there is right! You are a fag! I better go find me some pussy, posthaste!" With our verbal assaulter stunned silent, I continued, "Who am I kidding?! I like dick as much as that hickity hick says he doesn't!" and engaged in a round of tonsil hockey with my Boopy.
Okay, that last paragraph didn't happen; it was one of a dozen scenarios playing through my head (another includes a chainsaw) as we made our way to the movie theater, holding each others' hand tighter. Honestly, ignoring and avoiding confrontation is the best solution to that situation. You never know what they might be hiding in their pocket or how many friends they have around the corner. Especially if you realize you left your mace (and/or chainsaw) in your other murse. It's scary to think that we were only a few blocks where Kevin Aviance was assaulted.
Anyway, we saw The Night Listener - ohh.. this movie is delicious.
Addendum: If you were a victim of a GLBT bias crime, be sure to give the Anti-Violence Project a call at (212) 714-1141. (Thanks Crash)