Early on, Woody seemed to have a fascination with the word, "gay." At one point, he used the word no less than every third sentence in my motel room, with my room mate, Miki, present. Woody then asked me to scratch his back in front of Miki.
Did Woody think I was gay? Was he sexually harassing me? I was uncomfortable at any rate.
I responded, "I don't think so." I would not be scratching his back.
Clearly, I was not feeling welcome in the social environment after work, day after day, so I stayed in my room to escape the difficult exchanges that Woody seemed to have on the tip of his tongue.
