I left Palm Springs this morning as I continue my trip to Houston. It was a pretty uneventful stop-over. Took a nap. Got something to eat. Went out to The Barracks last night. The place was absolutely dead. Like Tuesday night kind of dead. Maybe 15 people there tops. On a Saturday night no less. I was thinking about staying today so I could go to the beer bust this afternoon, but decided to pack it up and hit the road.

I don't know what it is about Palm Springs, but I really like the place. I have every reason in the world to not like it, but I can't. For one, I had my car broken into there. Not Palm Springs proper, but more on the outskirts. Nevertheless, it was a dreadful day.

I've never been laid in Palm Springs. Oh, I've been hit on plenty of times, by guys I'm not interested in. The number of hot young chasers there can be counted on one hand. Plenty of daddy bears though. The place is full of them. Great place to go if you're a chaser on the prowl by the way. But if you're a daddy bear who likes hot young chasers, well you have to make an appointment with one several months in advance. Their dance cards are pretty full.

But there is just something about the place. I think it's all the great 50's modern architecture. Everything there just reeks of that fabulous late 50's to early 60's era. Women in fabulous evening dresses. Men in sharp evening attire. Heading off for a night on the town in a 1963 Cadillac. I can just imagine Frank and the rest of the rat pack running around Palm Springs.

There's something about the place. I could see myself retiring there someday. It brings out my gay love of a bygone era, a time of true class and sophistication. And it's about the only place in the world that could inspire me to use the word "fabulous" twice in the same post.