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Hugs and Jugs
Well, my lovelies, it's been pretty low-key around here since Pride weekend. But for those who weren't there (Moonpusi) here's a quick montage. Friday's night-time Pride parade…um…how can I say this nicely? It sort of limped down 4th Street like a three-legged dog. What happened, people? Was the heat wave too much for you? Maybe it's for the best: after last year's big turnout, I was concerned that Dubya might crop dust the entire Downtown area with "Homo-Away: Anti-Fairy Dust" and be rid of us in one fell swoop. Well not this time, sucka, even the freaks and fanatics were missing. I'm beginning to think that the size and magnitude of a Gay Pride Parade is directly proportionate to the number of protesters who show up.
SO. My friends and I had planned to hit KRAVE's after parade party, but $30 bucks….for locals? That shit's b-a-n-a-n-a-s, so we went to the Free Zone instead. It felt as hot inside the club as it was outside, but for once the dance floor was packed. Speaking which, there was an especially animated bunch of girls on the dance floor who were obviously rollin'—if ya know what I mean. Maybe it's the Raver girl of my youth longing to come out and play, but I do appreciate people who actually know how to use glow sticks. One girl in particular started liquiding for me--hot damn! She swirled those blue sticks up and down her thighs and stomach, fanned them along the side of my face, all the while with this wicked "I know you want this" grin on her face. Let's just say I had to go outside and "get some air" afterwards. Of course, that set me up for plenty of teasing: "Dude, you should have seen your face--it was like you were having sex with your eyes, haha!" Yeah, ha-ha, guys, but that ended up being the best five minutes of my night!
I knew Saturday was going to be absolute madness. We were drunk before we even got to the Sports Center, and it certainly didn't stop there. Couldn't tell you what booths were there or what kind of food they had, in fact, the only thing I recall from that day is Rook and D-Train chanting "Titty-Titty-Tittaaay!!! and those cheesy-ass rainbow bracelets everyone had on. The whole day was a continuous stream of hugs and jugs. Later that night we headed to Girlbar where, thankfully, the cover charge had descended from orbit. The dancers were looking fine, as usual, and there were plenty of fresh faces. I'm a music slut, so I was just happy to hear decent House and Trip-Hop. Good times. Nothing official was planned for Sunday, and Monday was a holiday, so we nursed our hangovers by the pool for a few hours then started drinking again around 5. Yeah, you know how we do: it wasn't long before we ditched our bikini tops and headed for the hot tub, ha! And THAT was Pride 2005.
As I said, things have been mellow since that weekend. I'm sure things will pick up when the college kids are out for the summer. Meanwhile, I've been checking out various clubs and venues for queer-friendly potential. This past Saturday a few of us headed over to Plush at the Rampart Casino. Plush is one of those trendy resort clubs (the price we pay for atmosphere), so I prepared myself to sit back in our cozy booth and watch all the pretty straight people. Apparently we'd picked a good night--the hostess informed us that Cirque du Soleil performers would be dancing in the cage right behind us. The nice thing about having a V.I.P booth is not getting special treatment or looking important—any shmo can throw down some cash and get one—for me, it's the opportunity to meet new people. Let me put it this way: girls need a place to put their purses while they dance; no one--male or female--turns down a free top-shelf drink; and there's plenty of room for extra people to join you. Money well spent.
Plush, itself, may not be ideal for girl-girl hookups, but considering the quality music and entertainment, I was perfectly content to appreciate the women from afar. Then the unexpected happened. I was chatting with this adorable girl named Katie, and she was guzzling Cape Cods as fast as I could make them. She was hot, outgoing, and friendly, but, alas, BeBe pants and Juicy Couture halters do not a lesbian make. After several fruitless attempts to get me up and dancing, she leaned over and said, "You know, most of the girls on that dance floor are bi. You should get out there." I laughed, thinking "My God, is it that obvious that I'm a dyke?" So I asked her: "Then how come I never see them at Girlbar or the Free Zone? And what about you?" Turns out, she was a full-blown lesbian with a girlfriend (DAMN), and she assured me that I would see her again at Girlbar next month. I guess you just never know about people. I spent the rest of the night with a knowing grin on my face, immersed in the music, and taking it all in. When in Rome, right?
So if you're looking for something different and you aren't allergic to straight people, gather up some friends and venture to clubs and resorts off the Strip. Meanwhile, I'll continue searching for new and exciting hangouts for homo boys and girls. Happy Summer, Everybody!
Ciao,
- Girl4Girl
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