HIPPIES ARE NOT HOLLOW One of my fondest and most-Austiny memories is taking to the cove at Hippie Hollow during Splash on a blow-up float with friends who were working at MS. MOP (the Men Who Have Sex With Men Outreach Program, back in the day). There we were, paddling around, like a pack of nutria that didn’t make it on to the ark. Our job was to pass out condoms. Paddle and pass. Paddle and pass. We passed out so many condoms, it would’ve made a nun blush. Hippie Hollow is a magical place, especially on those rare days when you don’t find other humans wallowing around, sunning their buns. Well, that will not be the case this weekend. No, siree, bob. This weekend, piles upon piles of queers shall line the rocks and bob in the cove in LGBT solidarity. Oh, hell. Not really. Everybody just wants a piece of ass. And all the bars will be throwing parties to offer up the scraps. Fine. But listen, if you are in the party barge, educate yourself to some basic physics, and please do not congregate all to one side of the boat at the first sight of nekkid people. (See Friday, Saturday, Sunday.)
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This article appears in May 1 • 2009.