Brad and Janet - Coming of Age During the Rocky Horror Era of Sexual Ambiguity

Reading the New Yorker this morning - Goings on About Town - and a snippet about the actress playing Janet in the Broadway revival of the Rocky Horror Picture Show (RHPS), a sudden wave of nostalgia rushed over me like an unexpected ocean swell. My friend Hugh Cole introduced me to Brad and Janet (the New Yorker incorrectly called him "Sam") and the RHPS when I hitch-hiked to his house in Short Hills, NJ, from Maine that day, when he told me about the evening plans. 

"We're going to this midnight show where people dress up and act out the parts." Okay. Didn't tell me about the whole cross-dressing thing. It made an impression. It was 1978, and we stood in a line under the dim streetlights outside a suburban village movie theatre, among other young people, some goth and lingerie-clad, slightly buzzed and ready for excitement. It lived up to the billing. People threw water and hot dogs at various times. Suddenly, there was a new, cooler version of "freak," not the long-haired hippy in dirty jeans, tie-dyed shirt and bare feet, but someone trying a LOT harder to NOT conform.  

The incongruousness of the experience, set against the quiet suburban background, was striking. A "Blue Velvet" moment, where you realize the thousands of underground currents are never apparent when you're strolling through. Mostly, the RHPS cult showed me that gender roles and sexual proclivities were fluid. I didn't know that my view of that side of life was so Victorian until that moment. I still preferred Susan Sarandon in her hot lingerie to Brad, but hey, you do you. 

I, in turn, took my friends to a midnight show in Georgetown, DC. This time, I was ready, with a bag of water to spray around during the early rain scene. I stood up at the right moment, and when I pulled out the bag to sprinkle it around, it just dumped out on the dude in front of me. He turned around and was, like, WTF? Sorry, I said. You're welcome. We all get wet here. 

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