03.31.02
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'Inside Outside' by the Cover Girls
I spent my weekend on beautiful Long Island. Why Long Island, you ask? Well, my friend Janine had her dad's PT Cruiser for the weekend, and what better getaway than a land of food courts and strip malls? It's imperative if you live in the city to get out now and then, and I'm not talking about Fire Island. I'm talking about a place where fags don't run free. And that's Long Island. When you return from such a trip, you'll appreciate living in the city that much more! One should never be jaded; only full of the downtown Manhattan-centric pride that annoys the rest of the world so very much. Our first stop on Friday night was a gay club that unfortunately turned out to have been closed and turned into a church. But we weren't dissuaded; armed with a list of backwoods suburban gay joints, our next stop was a gay bar called Pal Joey's described as 'rustic' in our guide to gay suburbia. Pal Joey's was easy to find, resting comfortably on the right side of a strip mall and bordered on its left by a dry cleaners. I was only slightly disappointed when looking at their dilapidated, half-lit sign to see that their logo wasn't a gold chain but rather just the words Pal and Joey's written in a loopy yellow font. Janine felt some trepidation as we walked to the door, but I reminded her that by choice we could easily dominate any room we walked into. Not to worry. We entered with the fierce resolve to enjoy whatever the jukebox was playing. But this resolve collapsed under the weight of what we saw before us: a small, dingy brown room of broken bar stools, brown walls and old men drinking brown liquor. Ripped carpet and a bathroom whose door rested comfortably off its hinges on the floor completed this look of shabby shab. We sat, wondering if drinks were in order. Frankly we were hoping for a bar or small club full of gold-chain wearing Joey's and Frankie's. Pal Joey's seemed out of place, even for Long Island! Ah well, this is what happens when two non-natives strike out into the wilderness with nary even a guide. We needed the Pocahontas of Long Island! 
I went to the bathroom only to have my privates groped by a white-haired Conrad Bain type, so we decided to leave. Driving blindly, we found a parking lot full of cars and kids, all laughing and having a good time. So we pulled in and asked a hot chick walking by where we should go to find a 'good' club. 'Party Your Body' by Stevie B. Our new friend looked like a cross between Monica and Aaliyah, except alive and completely drunk. 'Good club? Where y'all from??' 'We're from the city!' Her head slid back and forth on its tracks. 'You came from the city to go clubbing here!?' 'Yes uh.. we're visiting her parents! And wanted to go out and didn't know where to go!' She said we could follow her and her posse and they'd lead us to two clubs. Perfect! But secretly I wanted to hang out with them. We buttered her up a little. 'You look fun, where are you all going?' She dismissed the query with her nails. 'Ah shit we ain't doin nothin, we just drinkin!!' We liked drinking too! 'Hold on, we just gotta wait for some friends and then we goin.' She went back to her car and we pulled up next to her. She was in a clique of 7 or 8 girls spread between 3 different cars. She and her friends had plastic cups of liquor that they passed back and forth between cars with impunity. They knew how to drink and drive! The carousing continued for a few minutes until finally their 'friends' screeched into the parking lot - two ghetto boys wearing FUBU and Sean-John. They regarded us suspiciously and Janine rolled her window up. 'I'm not sure they want us listening to whatever they're doing..' She was probably right as some sort of deal was striking. I became instantly convinced that Pocahontas was an even greater source of fun than originally anticipated. FUBU and Sean-John made their rounds to each car and then got back into their car only to mysteriously pull over to the side of the road in front of the lot. The girls still didn't seem ready to pull out.. obviously some sort of native ritual was happening; a ritual completely foreign to us city-folk! Finally without warning, Pocahontas's car did pull out, followed by FUBU and Sean-John and then the girl cars, and then the eager duo known as us. Our caravan made two inexplicable pit-stops on the way to the clubs. All would stop and then FUBU would get out and do something at the window of one of the girls' cars, and then go back to his car. Finally we all stopped in front of a scented Dunkin Donuts/Baskin Robbins combo and our diva Pocahontas told us that it was time for us to part ways. Janine and I could either go to the club in the strip mall directly behind us, or to a club two blocks further down. Although part of me wanted to go to whatever house party or parking lot our native friends were going to, another part accepted that it was time for a new chapter in our night. Besides, FUBU and Sean-John had never seemed too amenable to our presence. We bid our lovely guide farewell. 'Thanks. Have a great time tonight!' 'Oh we will hahahaha! We will!!!!!!!!' She ran off, disappearing into a cloud of chronic. We decided on driving to the club ahead because the one in the strip mall behind looked too non-descript. 'Boy I've Been Told' by SaFire And oh, how glad I am that we did. First clue to how fantastically Long Island this club would be was the sign out front: S pring B reAk Part y $2 beeR all night! We couldn't find parking but a security guy said we could park at Hofstra University by showing our student IDs to the attendant. Not being students, we had no student IDs, but we did have Janine's tits. We drove to the gate (right across from the club) where Janine removed her jacket, revealing her massive bosoms. All it took was a simple lean towards the attendant and a giggly 'Hi!' to get him to wave us through. A good sign.. the club was located across from a college, so surely it would be full of gold-chain wearing boys and big-haired girls being debaucherous on the eve of their Spring Break! As we approached I saw the club was called Bogarts and its logo was a duck dressed like Humphrey Bogart. I am not kidding. After getting carded we entered, plunging deep into a writhing mass of drunk, sweaty, sexed up white teenagers. The boys were hot. Usually I don't like white boys so much. Like vanilla ice cream, they're fine for a taste, but after one lick or two I crave something with actual flavor. Not so the boys here. The boys of Long Island are so strange and different that they almost seem like their own ethnic group! We made our way past the wet hordes to the dancefloor in the back where music blared loudly though a bass-free sound system. $2 pitchers of beer were omnipresent but we opted for a girl with a tray full of jello shots. How could we resist! I took two, and to my delight her assistant offered us a Reddi-whip topping. Fervor for the moment brought an excited tear to my eye. 'Yes of course! Reddi-whip us!!' I slammed that jello shot as if it were the sweet creamy cum of God himself. 'Too Turned On' by Alisha The music jerked wildly from tempo to tempo, but the crowd didn't seem to mind. I suppose they're used to that sort of genre mixing. Whatever the beat, their dancing style remained the same and can best be described as intercourse. I am accustomed to clubs where people dance to lose themselves in the music. Here, their dancing was for one purpose and one purpose only: sex. Everyone was partner dancing, guy to girl, crotch to crotch, ass to crotch, or face to crotch. I felt as if this were a place kids on MTV's Real World would go to party. Perhaps my favorite moment of the night was when the cutest of all the boys, the one who humped every girl in our loud, cheery corner of the dancefloor, fell forward towards me, a sweaty mess. Upon catching my amused eye he mouthed the words: 'I'M SO DRUNK!' 'I know.' I said. 'I know!' In the end the potent sex in the air became frustrating. Not another homo in the house! Maybe next time I should go in drag and cause a scene.. maybe seduce some young drunkard, Crying Game style. That night I slept in Janine's sister's suburban bed, complete with canopy, dreaming of being a scantily-clad slutty college girl and tearing the clothes off all those hot sweaty white boys. (And making them all my bitches.) 'Say Its Gonna Rain' by Will to Power In the morning we went to a mall. Having spent my formative years in a Jersey mall, I find malls wonderful. Like Renée Zellweger does for Tom Cruise, they complete me. They are the same wherever you go and thus bring comfort through sight and both sound and familiar smell. The first thing one notices in a mall is that there are white teenagers everywhere, often in a servile position. I enjoy this. We were lucky because Hot-98 or some other such Long Island KTU-style radio station was hosting a contest there. One could spin their wheel and by guessing either an odd or even number, win a t-shirt or Swing Out Sister CD (?). Or, one could guess a number between 1 and 30 and win a 3 ft high chocolate Easter bunny! The six children in line ahead of us were wimps.. they guessed for even or odd numbers, going for the easy prize and forsaking the bunny. I would not forsake the bunny. I decided that I would win the Easter bunny, and then because I don't like chocolate, give my prize to the cutest boy waiting in line behind us, thereby becoming a hero not only to the little one, but to his parents as well! I'd laugh and display a generous smile while soaking up their thanks and secretly smirking at the ugly little boys and girls beside them who'd be going home empty handed. My time approached and the Hot-98 DJ extended a radio-voiced query into his mic: 'Hi, what's your name and where are you from?' For no particular reason, I lied. 'I'm Mike from Houston!' 'Houston, wow! And you came out all this way just to play for our Hot-98 Easter prize package. What would you like, odds or evens or would-' I interrupted in a loud voice meant to impress the players behind me and draw the whole mall into my jihad for the bunny. 'I'm going for the bunny and I choose number 5!!' The crowd gasped at my candor. Two little girls in particular, no doubt named Courtney and Shannon, expressed excitement not only for my good looks but for my unbridled enthusiasm and drive to win the bunny at all costs! I grabbed the wheel and gave it a dramatic spin. 'Silent Morning' by Noel Around and around it went. It slowed. Number 5 approached. Click. Just two more..! Click. Just one more.....! Click. Yeaaa....! The crowded gasped! ClickClick. FUCKING HELL! FUCKING SHIT FUCK! The crowd let out a collective groan. The wheel stopped just two clicks past the 5! The cocksucking DJ spoke. 'Ahh! So close. Next.' I threw my hands up in angry disappointment, cursed Courtney and Shannon and traipsed off. Fun can be had, but there is no God on Long Island. On Saturday night we drove back to the city and went to Roxy. It seemed like another world. Peter was spinning so the music was great, and my friends aplenty. (Long Island-style shoutouts to Froilan, Bret, Ken, Michael, and of course, sexy Janine.) But I felt sick and left early.. perhaps the time in Long Island and my defeat at the hands of a bunny had worn me out. I will go back to Long Island one day. My next plan is to find a hardcore old-school Freestyle club. I'm talking Seduction, Expose, Lisette Melendez, Stevie B and the like. 
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I want high heels, big hair and wafts of cologne powerful enough to get me high. 
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Next time the straight boys will all be mine, and no bunny will defeat me. 
Long Island will bow to my glory! 'Come Go With Me' by Exposè |
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