I.  DON’T ASK ME

I spent a good portion of my first year as a college student sitting at one particular table in my campus student center.  At this table, a wide variety of subject matter has been known to occur to a daily basis, both serious and jovial.  In fact, the other day, a young female next to me inquired as to what impotence was, and I couldn’t pass up the chance to make an ass out of myself: I immediately referred her to her boyfriend, stating that he would be the best fit to answer such a question, since he is an expert in the field.

II. THE SPERM OF IMAGINATION MEETS THE EGG OF OPPORTUNITY

Phillip Lopate is a marvelous writer, in my opinion.  I love his use of vocabulary, which is mainly easily understandable, yet has interjections of very high level wording.  The flow to his sentences just seems somewhat casual while providing a sense of formality.  Truly beautiful.  One of his writings, “Portrait of My Body,” even inspired a conversation between me and a few of my peers, which came to a subject that is not commonly referred to among the masses: impotence and its influence and usage.

III. THE BOYS IN THE BAND: WHO HAS THE BEST INSTRUMENT?

While my female friends always remind me that being a girl is not easy, I must point out that being a boy is no simple task, either.  I should know, I’ve been one for quite some time…

            One of the most unique and sometimes most traumatizing experiences that a boy can endure is being in a locker room.  At a young age, we males are trained by our surrounding environment and the media that guys have to be a particular way.  They have to be handsome enough, strong enough, thin enough, tall enough, sincere enough, smart enough, masculine enough…but the most maddening is often times the idea of needing to be of a certain caliber when it comes to the penis.

            It seems odd, at least to me, that such a thing is made so important.  When we’re born, we have no desire to make any comparison between our genitals and those of another.  We often strip off clothing, wanting to be naked and natural, pausing only to ask the girls why they don’t have a penis and wondering where it would have gone, as though a penis could get up and walk away on its own accord.  However, later in life, we miraculously become obsessed with hiding our members for fear of discrimination or harassment.  I myself cannot recall what changed my attitude toward the male reproductive organ.  I only know that a mindset switch took place, as it does with every other male.

            Once the switch happens, the locker room comes in.  I find it remarkable that locker rooms are pretty well avoided by boys (meaning they don’t even have to be in one) until after all of those boys would have gone through the switch.  This causes mass confusion for the boys, thereafter, as they all get naked to shower and get clothed after a game or practice.  While some of the boys may have lucked out and avoided the switch, most are in pandemonium.  Also, at this time in their lives, young boys, for the most part, don’t have much knowledge about sex, or what their penis is or could be used for, making their fear and repression of naked sight with other males a bit foolish.  They only know they shouldn’t show their “junk” to other boys, and shouldn’t look at the “junk” of other boys.

IV.  QUESTION OF THE DAY

A good deal of conversation took place before her boyfriend arrived (including a great deal of curiosity that was effervescent in the young girl’s mind), not knowing the topic to come.  As he walked over, I tried to play it cool and coyly said my greeting, looking back down to my paper that I was working on.  The rest of the table, of course, was unable to keep from staring at him while smiling.  He immediately looked to his girlfriend, hoping she would provide an answer.

            “There’s something I’m supposed to ask you.”

            “Yeah?”

            “What is impotence?  I was told to ask you because you were an expert in the field.”

V.  SOMETIMES IT JUST WON’T HAPPEN

My family is filled with manly men.  You know, my brother and my father each being a real “man’s man” type of thing.  They both work as plumbers, know how to do electrical and duct work, have farming experience, played a lot of “ball,” and keep in good physical condition.  My brother has always liked big trucks, and my father is a huge fan of modest-looking trucks.  Both enjoy the sound of a good roar behind the accelerator.  I like trucks, and am a fan of a good sound, but I never really got into it like they did.

            My father and brother also enjoy working on vehicles.  They get into the ideas of replacing certain parts to make their current project look dazzling in the sun, bolster a good rev after some tinkering beneath the hood, and are constantly on the lookout for the next cool gadget or car to turn to next.

            I remember when my father’s old Corsica finally gave out after several years of abuse by a previous owner.  He worked for weeks on that car, and took it to garages to have looked at and estimated at repairs and see what else was wrong or could go wrong in the near future.  He slaved for quite some time over that little car, but eventually it got to the point where it wouldn’t even run anymore.  He’d put the key into the ignition, turn it a couple times, nothing would happen.  He’d open the hood of the car, mess with a few things, and try again.  Nothing would happen.  He checked the battery, even replaced it, made sure the fan belt hadn’t snapped or broken something else off, the oil was full and not clogging, and checked all the valves and gave them a good cleaning and greasing.  He’d try again.  Nothing would happen.  Eventually, he gave up on the car and we took it down to the junkyard.  It just didn’t have any spark left in it, despite the effort put into it.

VI.  VISUAL, PLEASE

I promptly received a significant glare from my friend, while his mouth twitched, holding back a smile.  He sighed, deciding on the right way to answer the question, knowing he’d either have to answer it now or later.  He began telling the generic “When a mommy and a daddy really love each other” story, but it quickly escalated to a new and animated sight.

            He placed his hand upon the table I was working, then began to beat on his hand, making a coincidentally rhythmic beat.  “When that fails,” he said, “they try again.”  He beat his hand some more.  “When that fails, daddy goes to the doctor and gets told he’s shooting blanks.”

VII.  THE BOYS IN THE BAND: OPEN THE DOOR AND SHOW YOUR PICCOLO

When a boy enters high school, he’s been exposed to the locker room society for quite some time, and a bit of his shyness goes away.  However, there is still a lingering hint of wanting to keep his member behind closed doors.  I believe this change doesn’t take place because he’s been exposed to locker rooms and other naked males more, but rather that he has become more educated in the ways of the male apparatus and what it should be.  These boys finally become more like men and display their manhood more broadly, acknowledging that they are a growing specimen of human race and have nothing to hide.

            There is a scent of unwillingness to exposure left, and I believe this is derived from the all too common expression of “size matters.”  The boys have not yet learned the more common fisherman’s approach of it being all about how you “wiggle your worm.”  These boys are easily identifiable in the locker room, being the ones who point their members toward a corner or close wall while changing, to avoid the assumingly homosexual glances of the other males in the room.

            Once they have graduated, most seem to lose their unwillingness to be seen in nature’s way, which could be associated with the growing popularity of teens having premarital sexual intercourse.  Whether that is the case or not, the change seems to be mostly education-based, with the boys now being men, having discovered the freeing feel of exposing themselves and being comfortable with their bodies.  College also seems to be a breeding ground for this kind of openness and agreement to show one’s penis, as they have learned it’s not about the look or size; it is only to do with one’s acceptance of life and continuance of happiness, which should not be deterred based a shrinkage due to cold climate or enlargement due to erotic stimulation.  They finally see themselves all as the same, being part of the grand scale of mankind, and truly become open to life and personal and mental growth.

            To this day, I can’t figure out when this change actually takes place.  It’d be wonderful piece of knowledge to have.  As far as I can tell, it takes place anywhere from age 11 to 21, with a slight chance of a young man never actually undergoing the change.  Perhaps I’ll write to Lopate and ask if he has anything to say on the matter…

VIII.  HEREDITY PLAYS A ROLE

While I never shared the enthusiasm for fixing vehicles or working with my hands that my brother and father (and his father) have, I have found things to keep me occupied all the same.  For years, I have been part of the local area community theatre, both in educational facilities and community and religious institutions and organizations.  I’ve always been able to go through a theatre production and feel a sense of elation and relaxation through the course of its rehearsal schedule and final performances.

            Recently, in addition to this theatrical background, I’ve began being part of a choir.  This started when I was a senior in high school, and I’ve also sung in the choir on campus.  I’ve enjoyed being part of this vocally dominant group, and I feel as though I’ve learned a great deal about those around me and the influence of choral music on their lives.  But perhaps the most prominent story to do with the choir is that of the tenor section (of which I am part).

            The tenor section has had a tough time over the past couple semesters with keeping up proper, full breathing to produce a sound tone with assertion.  This has caused our choir director to identify us as the “weenies” or “weenie tenors.”  We’ve worked time and time again to rectify our problem, and at times we seem to succeed and even surprise the choir director.  However, we seem to have a tendency to slip right back into the sickly puddle of weenie-hood.  God bless our director for not stooping into a corner in a fit of manic depression over our inability to listen and follow instructions consistently.

IX.  EXPLANATION ERECTED

She heaved heavily, finally understanding her boyfriend’s vulgar statement.

            “It means it’s not loaded.”

X.  KNOWLEDGE IS A KEY PART OF BEING A MAN–A PENIS WON’T SUFFICE

What I find funny is that men are said to be men for the most insignificant reasons.  For example, some determine the break from being a boy to being a man as merely having had sexual intercourse with a woman.  Others say that it is based on a maturity level scale of having to reach a certain point before you’re declared a man, and others yet say it is based on making the way through puberty.  These reasons are superficial.  They are each easily thwarted, what with the rise of gay intimacy in today’s culture, maturity being a subjective analysis that goes according to the individual making “the call,” so to speak, and puberty being a biological function all males go through.

            What about knowledge?  Truth is, most “men” don’t even know what it means to be a man, beyond those three reasons I listed.  Most even have simple fear of knowing things to do with being a man, including impotence.  I’ve had conversations with males ranging in age from 18 to 49 who admit to either not knowing what impotence is (as in the case of my male friend and his poor excuse of impotence to his girlfriend, in which he actually described being sterile) or refusing to discuss it.  It scares them.  How can one be a man if one is so afraid of talking about something that affects a great deal of men in our communities?  Why, drugs have even been made in surplus to help those suffering from impotence.  If it’s a big issue, why not discuss it?  Why not learn about it?

            “Men” also seem too caught up into what they may refer to as the “true” definition of impotence.  They forgo the very thought that impotence can relate to not being able to accomplish something else (as in the story of the junk car and the tenor section of the campus choir) and cringe at the very mention of the word “impotence” as if it means they themselves are too inadequate.

            A man can and will only be a man once he breaks through the wall of insecure sexuality and embraces everything to do with being a man, including some of the softer subjects, such as impotence.  After all, if he doesn’t like being a man, modern science can give him a chance at being a woman.

SEA WORTHY

A Play in Ten Minutes

Characters

GARTH  An upper middle-aged man.  Years ago, he served as a deckhand aboard the same ship as RICK.

RICK  An upper middle-aged man.  He spent quite a bit of time at sea, and became one of the best sailors his captain ever saw.

SEA WORTHY

SETTING: the port of a small town.  TIME: sunrise.

(As the lights rise, GARTH and RICK are looking out toward the horizon.)

GARTH: Is it what you expected?

RICK: Hadn’t thought about it, really.

GARTH: What are you thinking?

RICK: Don’t want to think about it now.

GARTH: You’ve been watching it go for a while.  No thoughts at all?

RICK: Am I supposed to have some?

GARTH: No.  Well, yes.  People usually do.

RICK: What are you thinking?

GARTH: That you’re being too quiet.

RICK: Not about me.  About this.

GARTH: It’s sad.

RICK: Why?

GARTH: We may never see them again.

RICK: Says who?

GARTH: Rumors.

RICK: They worry you?

GARTH: They don’t you?
(Beat.)
What are you thinking?

RICK: It’s chilly.

GARTH: Yeah, it is.  Wanna go?

RICK. Very much so.

(He doesn’t move.  Beat.)

GARTH: Why didn’t you go with them?

RICK: I’m too old.  You can’t trust someone like me to hold the line.

GARTH: We’re the same age—you’re not that old.

RICK: You didn’t go, either.

GARTH: My son isn’t onboard.
(Beat.)
I’m sure he’ll make a great bosun.

RICK: I have no doubt.

GARTH: He has your wit.

RICK: And my stubbornness.

GARTH: He’ll learn a lot.

RICK: Not as well as he should.

GARTH: He’ll send money home.

RICK: Until he starts drinking it.

GARTH: The work will toughen him up.

RICK: Then he won’t listen to anyone.

GARTH: Yeah, he’ll come back a real sailor.

RICK: One hell of a pirate.

(Beat.)

GARTH: What’s your problem?

RICK: What do you mean?

GARTH: He’s doing something with his life.  Something great.  Something fantastic!  He’s seeing the world, meeting new people.

RICK: He doesn’t need those things.

GARTH: Learn how to be a man.

RICK: Being a sailor doesn’t make you a man.

GARTH: He has to grow up.

RICK: He can do that here.

GARTH: It’s not the same.

RICK: It’s better.

GARTH: Says who?

RICK: Says me!

(Beat.)

GARTH: What are you thinking?

RICK: The clouds are red.

GARTH: Yeah, they are.

RICK: They’re going to be hit by a storm.

GARTH: Yeah, they are.

RICK: He won’t know what to do.

GARTH: You didn’t tell him?

RICK: Of course I told him.

GARTH: He didn’t listen?

RICK: He listened.

GARTH: Then he’ll be fine.

RICK: He’s not experienced enough.

GARTH: And he never will be!  At least not to you.
(Beat.)
What are you thinking?

RICK: They should have used a newer ship.

GARTH: Ah!  I’m leaving…

(Gets up to leave.  Grabs his coat.)

RICK: “Leave it behind.”

GARTH: What?

RICK: I told him to leave it behind.

GARTH: Leave what behind?

RICK: The sea.  It changes a man. 

GARTH: It certainly does.

RICK: I told him, “If you go, you’ll fall in love with it. “

GARTH: Everyone does.

RICK: Love makes you blind, careless.  You get used to the waves, the rolling and pitching, the endless horizon.  You weather one storm, you feel invincible.  Only you don’t know you’re in the eye, about to be struck again.  Next thing you know, you’re fighting to stay afloat, taking on Poseidon himself.  Behind you, the maelstrom winds tear your sail to shreds; knocks you off the stern to hang onto the figurehead for dear life.  The bosun drags you up as the deck collapses beneath you.  Next thing you know, you wake up to bright skies and cheerful smiles.

GARTH: Rick—

RICK: You’re so full of yourself, thinking you just survived the worst storm in history.  The captain asks if we should turn back but you insist the ship sails on, out for another adventure.  You have the time of your life, going from port to port, besting death, tasting the flavor of every tavern you come across.  Finally, you come home two years later than planned.  Your family is so happy, they welcome you with a nice dinner.  Amidst the festivities, you can’t help but ask why one chair sits empty.  It’s your father’s.  He died the year before.  Cremated—ashes spread out to sea. 
(Beat.)
I sailed on him, Garth.

GARTH: Not surprising.  He was a sailor, too.  But you move on and care for your own son.

RICK: You do.  Hoping he doesn’t decide to leave, too.

GARTH: He knew the chances in going.

RICK: He thinks he knows the chances.

GARTH: He’ll be fine.

RICK: He doesn’t listen.

GARTH: You taught him well.

RICK: I told him not to go adventuring.

GARTH: He needs a good adventure.

RICK: He needs to be with his father!

(Beat.)

GARTH: He’s not you.

RICK: I know that.

(Beat.)

GARTH: If he was you, he’d be wearing an eye patch and lying about how he lost his eye dueling a pirate captain.

(GARTH laughs.)

RICK: I suppose he would.

GARTH: You had the worst stories I’d ever heard.  Like how you skewered the great-grandson of Blackbeard with his own sword while keeping his entire crew at bay with your left foot.

RICK: The tavern crowd enjoyed that one.

GARTH: After six rounds, sure.  By then, they believed everything you told them.

RICK: Except for the night we started that brawl.

GARTH: We?  There was no “we” that night.  I remember saving your poor ass from that con with the tattoos, who—if I remember correctly—was offended when you referred to his girlfriend as “that Billy goat in the corner.”

RICK: Swanson said that!  I just laughed.

(They both laugh.  Beat.)

GARTH: What are you thinking?

RICK: I suppose it was worth it.

GARTH: They were good times.

RICK: That they were.

GARTH: Your father would’ve been proud.  You had fun, but, as I remember, you were also the only one the captain trusted to man the mast at night.  It took a good sailor for that.

RICK: You think so?

GARTH: I know so.

(Beat.)

RICK: He’ll be one hell of a sailor.  Have adventures of his own.

GARTH: He’ll be back one day.

RICK: One day.  And it’s all right if I’m gone.  He has his own life to live.

GARTH: That he does.
(Beat.)
We should go inside.

RICK: Yeah.  Go on ahead.  I’ll be in.

GARTH: Are you sure?  We can both watch the horizon some more.

RICK: Go ahead.  I’ll be right behind you.

GARTH: All right.

(GARTH exits.)

RICK: Leave it all behind you, son.  Live your life and have fun.  I’m proud of you already—nothing left to prove by coming back. 
(He sighs.  Then speaks, as if saying “I love you.”)
Leave it behind.

(RICK takes a moment, then exits.  The lights fade to black.)

END OF PLAY

SEA WORTHY–A father watches his son sail away into the horizon. Left on the port with his best friend, he struggles to let go and come to terms with letting his son make his own decisions and lead his own life. Genre: drama.

STALLED–A man gets more than he bargained for when he unknowingly enters a men’s bathroom… which is full equipped with towels, soap, and a restroom attendant.  Genre: comedy.

STALLED 

A Play in Ten Minutes

Characters 

ATTENDANT  A restroom attendant of any age.  He is formal but quirky, and loves to connect with people (especially when money is involved).

MAN  A man of any age.  He refers to himself as being quite normal, but he has a temperament that he tries to hide.

STALLED

SETTING: a contemporary restroom.  TIME: the present, in the afternoon.

(As the lights rise, ATTENDANT, dressed in formal attire, is washing his hands inside a men’s restroom.  There are at least three urinals, one stall, and one sink.  There’s a knock at the door.  ATTENDANT dries off his hands, unlocks and opens the door.  MAN enters.) 

ATTENDANT: Hello, sir.

MAN: Oh.  Hi.  Sorry if I interrupted—but the door said to knock.

ATTENDANT: No worries, sir.

(MAN enters and ATTENDANT locks the door.  ATTENDANT proceeds to sit on a stool by the door.  Beat.)

MAN: What are you doing?

ATTENDANT: Just sitting, sir.

MAN: Do you work here?

ATTENDANT: Yes, sir.

MAN: Cut that.  I’m not a “sir.”  You seriously work here?

ATTENDANT: Yes.

MAN: You work here, in the bathroom?

ATTENDANT: Yes.  I’m the bathroom attendant. 

MAN: I didn’t know those existed any more.

ATTENDANT: They don’t, usually.

(MAN, nervous about using the restroom in front of another person, begins to wash his hands quickly, pretending that’s what he came in to do.) 

MAN: So what’s your story?

ATTENDANT: My uncle’s the owner, and I needed a job.

MAN: Does it pay well?

ATTENDANT: Not particularly.  The tips are nice, though.

MAN: People tip you?

ATTENDANT: Every time. 
(MAN has finished washing his hands and looks for something to dry off with.)
Here.

(ATTENDANT gives MAN a towel.)

MAN: Thanks.
(MAN dries his hands and ATTENDANT takes the towel.  MAN goes to a urinal.  Beat.  MAN looks to ATTENDANT.)
You just sit there?

(ATTENDANT rises.)

ATTENDANT: Do you need assistance, sir?

MAN: What?  No, I don’t need any help.  It’s just—odd.

ATTENDANT: Would you like me to turn around?

MAN: Could you?

ATTENDANT: Of course, sir.
(ATTENDANT faces away from MAN.  Beat.  Silence.)
Are you all right, sir?

MAN: What?  Oh, yeah, just—plug your ears or something.

ATTENDANT: Of course.
(ATTENDANT plugs his ears, continuing to look away from MAN.  Beat.  Silence.  MAN collects himself and begins to move away from the urinal.  ATTENDANT unplugs his ears.)
Is something the matter?  Do you need assistance?

MAN: No, I don’t!  I just can’t go with you right there, watching, listening…

ATTENDANT: I turned away and plugged my—

MAN: I know!  I just need more space.

(MAN heads to the stall.)

ATTENDANT: You can’t use that.  It’s out of order.

MAN: Isn’t your job to fix it?

ATTENDANT: I tried.  A plumber is coming later today to take a look at it.

MAN: Fine.
(MAN resumes his position at the urinal.  Beat.)
Are you allowed to take a break?

ATTENDANT: Yes, but only when no one is using the restroom.

MAN: What if a customer requests it?

ATTENDANT: Well, I suppose I—

MAN: Take one.

ATTENDANT: Yes, sir.

(ATTENDANT puts the towel down, washes his hands, and takes his place in front of the urinal next to MAN.  Beat.)

MAN: What are you doing?

ATTENDANT: Taking a break.
(MAN moves to the next urinal so they are one apart.  Beat.)
Did you know the first restroom attendant was a caveman?

MAN: Really.

ATTENDANT: It wasn’t one like today, of course.  They were mostly holding a spear for the other caveman at the hole, watching out for wild animals waiting to pounce while a man was crouched.

MAN: Huh.

ATTENDANT: Things hadn’t changed much for next several centuries.  When America was discovered, attendants were still around.  I can just see the first Thanksgiving dinner, everyone eating—except one Englishman and one Native American, standing side by side, handing leaves or woven patches to people needing to wipe themselves.  Just beautiful.  Except for when the English started slaughtering the Native Americans. 
(ATTENDANT chuckles.)
It was easy for the attendants to get a few.  Who would suspect the attendant, you know?

MAN: I see…

ATTENDANT: And danger is still around!  A friend of mine is a restroom attendant in Africa.  Apparently a wild boar charged in once and tore the place apart, killing the poor guy that was sitting down.  He carries a tranquilizer dart now.  Imagine having to worry about—

MAN: OK!  That’s it!

(MAN zips up and leaves the urinal.)

ATTENDANT: What’s wrong, sir?

MAN: I just don’t feel like going any more.

ATTENDANT: Was it something I said?

MAN: Oh, no, not at all!
(MAN tries to leave, but the door is locked.)
Open this.

ATTENDANT: I can’t.

MAN: What?

ATTENDANT: You have to wash your hands before I unlock it for you.

(MAN goes to wash his hands.)

MAN: I didn’t even get to use the damn thing and I still have to wash my hands?

ATTENDANT: It’s policy, sir.

MAN: Policy?  Is it also policy to sit and stare at someone as they try to use the bathroom?  Is it policy to listen?  To tell stories about other people who die when they use the bathroom?
(Sees the tip jar and takes a towel from ATTENDANT.)
I can’t believe people tip you for this.  Now let me out.

ATTENDANT: I can’t.

MAN: Why?

(ATTENDANT moves the tip jar closer to MAN.)

ATTENDANT: Policy.

(MAN stares at ATTENDANT, sighs, and reaches into his pocket as the lights fade to black.)

END OF PLAY