My Chinese corridormate asks seriously,
“Chris, can you tell me about Gay Fox Night?”
I’m a bit unnerved: either he’s bicurious and has assumed I’m gay, or he’s gay and thinks I’m ‘scene’. I venture an answer:
“Gay Fox Night? Sorry, no, I’ve never heard of Gay Fox Night.”
Disturbing images swirl around my mind: doglike urban critters wearing pink armbands and eating out of dustbins outside houses rocking to the sound of the Village People…
He continues earnestly, “You know, Gay Fox Night, with the fire…”
Oh.
Guy Fawkes Night.
What a relief!
