To Market, To Market

Regular readers will recall the story a few weeks back of the train ride that culminated in a hot and heavy session of afternoon delights. Little did I realise that I would soon bare witness to the master at work with my own virgin eyes. It was a sight to behold. And to be honest, I’m a teeny bit envious. I was like gay Daniel LaRusso watching gay Mr. Miyagi and learning the fine art of cruising from him.

Readers will also be aware of my complete obliviousness of my surroundings and such was the case until the master begun his work. While shopping for quality delicatessen goods at the ever-popular Queen Victoria Market, the Master saw a deli vendor in the corner of his eye, who, it was later explained to me, was checking out him and his rump. I, as usual, was lost in my own world of food and deli goods until I heard the vendor call out “Hey there boys! What can I get you?”

We kept walking until the Master turned and caught the vendor still cruising him. As we walked a little further, I was pulled back and we stopped right in front of him. This was my opportunity to watch the work of an expert unfold. We were greeted again, but as I was eyeing off the cheeses and the fresh slices of salami and mortadella, Con the Vendor, went about slicing fresh pieces of prosciutto for us. While he was slicing the prosciutto, the Master quickly double checked where wedding rings were meant to be. I quickly responded just before the Vendor offered us the prosciutto with his bare hands. I meekly made some remark about being a vegan before wolfing it down.

Of course it was delicious, but while I was savoring the prosciutto, the Master and the Vendor were amping up the level of cruising. He asked about the fresh dolmades the deli had in stock, and then proceeded to tell the reason why we were being picky about the food we needed. After a casual mention of lesbians, various dietary requirements and the impending party we were throwing, he proceeded to ask Con the Vendor what he was doing over the weekend to which he responded by saying he had a farewell party for a friend and that he was probably attending a popular gay night which was being held over the weekend. And that was it. He had him.

No sooner had Con the Vendor wrapped the dolmades container in cling wrap, had he said something to the Master in Greek. To which, naturally, he responded in Greek. If it hadn’t been for the throngs of people and the mounds of stuffed eggplants and capsicums, I’m pretty sure these two would have gone for it right then and there. As we paid, Con the Vendor introduced himself and the Master reciprocated. “Maybe I’ll see you at the dance party,” said Con. “Yeah you’ll see me there,” he replied. “See you there then!”

As we walked off I couldn’t control myself, laughing and in awe of what had happened in my very eyes. The Master had scored at the Queen Victoria Market. It may as well have been the Formula One Grand Prix or the International Motor Show. For most readers, it would seem as though this very event is nothing. But remember, to these pure, shy, completely oblivious and virgin eyes, this very event is nothing short of inspiring. I will learn from him for many years to come.

Now for what happened at the dance party…