A Brokeback moment at 35,000 feet

I am writing this 35,000 feet above the Pacific, listening to my new Brokeback Mountain soundtrack with my POG (Passionfruit-Orange-Guava juice). Those striking guitar chords slay me, but I'm disappointed they left out "Quizás," the song playing when Jack goes to Juárez for a quickie.

Two rows ahead of us is a gay couple, one black, one white. I pegged them as gay when they stuffed their matching blue backpacks in the overhead compartment. Both are pushing 275 pounds. I see that the black guy has flung his meaty arm around his partner's shoulder, a somewhat startling public display of affection in such a mixed crowd. But no one is going to mess with these two guys. Besides, it's unlikely that anyone has smuggled a tire iron on board.

I don't know where I've been, but since when is same-sex affection so acceptable in public? It's the third time in a week I've seen it in the most mainstream of places. On Saturday, as I was entering Oakridge Mall on my way to see Brokeback Mountain with two straight women who hadn't seen it yet (my third time), I saw two young women confidently holding hands. And last week, I saw two guys at Santana Row, one with his hand in the back pocket of the other. That's something I often see in the gay ghetto, but not in San Jose.

I wonder if Brokeback Mountain is behind all of this or have I just been oblivious. Feeling the lifelong anguish of Ennis Del Mar, one leaves the theater determined to never let societal bigotries strip one of the ability to love and be loved. Tracy and Shirley were both sniffing throughout the movie, regretting that they only had the with harsh napkins from the concession stand to dab their tears with. Both came out of the theater saying they were choking back the urge to bawl out loud. Tracy said she hadn't cried like that since Beaches. She couldn't imagine what life would be like if she couldn't be with her husband, Rock.

Looking back at my first review of BBM, I have half a mind to delete it. I missed so much. Now I get it. For someone who was bored with The English Patient and thought the best thing about Titanic was the digital graphics, not the love story, it takes me awhile. Ennis's love for Jack seems more tender now. The wrenching pain Jack feels when he can't be with Ennis now hits home. It's gone from a one- to a four-tissue movie.

As Ang Lee collected another big trophy from the directors guild (and again, neglected to thank his long-time fishing buddy), and newspapers report that the big story about the SAG awards is that BBM didn't win it all, I am feeling we're in the vortex of a significant, beautiful, revolutionary cultural shift. "I wish I knew how to quit you" it's been said, is the "You had me at hello" phrase of the decade.

Straight women, as I admonished them, are struggling to drag their boyfriends and husbands to see the movie. Small town newspaper critics are reviewing the movie, and from what I can tell, most of them like it, even in the red states. Are we, as a culture, beginning to grow up? Before the movie came out, I lowered my expectations that a movie could change the world. Over the last few weeks, my optimism has crept up again. With so many interesting stories to tell, many more good movies are bound to be made after this.

Each time I've seen the movie, I've been encouraged by audience reactions. During the intimate moments with Ennis and Jack, the theater has been silent, not a groan--not like the squirming I remember when Tom Hanks danced with Antonio Banderas in Philadelphia, and none of the fidgeting and guffawing when Tom Selleck kissed Kevin Kline in In and Out.

I can't count how many times I've held back, even subconsciously, in expressing affection for Robert. It's programmed into my psyche. I've been coming out for 14 years now, but I still act as though my love still needs to be hidden, even in the progressive San Francisco Bay Area. From a colleague's wedding where we danced together, but were quick to wander off for a drink during any slow songs, afraid we'd make a scene, to the uneasiness I still feel when going to the chekcout counter with a "To the Man I Love" Valentine's Day card, I realize there's still a little Ennis left in me.

Well, this trip is Robert's first in Hawaii. He's been waiting for the right person to go with. Finally, it is the right time, and damn, if were not going to walk hand-in-hand along the beach and watch some sunsets together.

I swear.