You Just Gotta Bounce With The Flounce

(I am at a convention with a friend from England. We go shopping, and I request something that isn’t on the shelf. The young lady helping me is gone for a couple minutes when a nice young man with a shop name-tag comes up to me.)

Employee: “Hello, are you being helped?”

Me: “Yes, I am. She’s getting me some soap I wanted.”

Employee: “Very well!”

(His reply isn’t too off, but he spins around, raises one hand to head height, lets it flop, then literally minces off to find another customer. I come from a rather conservative part of the country, and what experience I have with gay bars indicates that, if a “look” is cultivated, it is more like “urban cowboy,” so I am thrown off just for a moment. I shrug it off and return to the conversation with my friend, but he cuts me off and says:)

Friend: “Well, he was as camp as a row of tents.”

(I had trouble containing my laughter.)