This was a weekend of almost-made-it’s.
I really wanted to make it to the Brides of March on Saturday, but none of my usual nuts were available to join. Shilpa and I planned to hit the shops last minute on Friday night. I was going to just get a big satin number from Ross and wear a sign reading “Always a Bridesmaid.” But alas, Thursday night Shilpa and I raged a bit after Sundance and by the time 5five o'clock came on Friday, we were just too pooped to make a wedding dress shopping adventure. We both crashed and took naps for about 45 minutes when we stopped at my place just to drop off our bags.
But let’s take a little moment for
Thursday night.
I’ve been managing some others issues this week, and made a commitment to Sundance on Thursday to be there for Hot Tony. Originally I started to care for Hot Tony because Tony is so very much with the Hot. Now I’m just more of a care taker. But the ongoing revelations about the pretty/crazy ones is another story I’ll have to write later. Suffice it to say I closed down Sundance on Thursday and wanted to go out. I called Shilpa to see if she was itching for entertainment. If she stayed home, I’d join boys at 440. If she wanted to go out, we’d hit Badlands.
We hit the Badlands and I have never seen that many straight girls in the bar before. Very much WTF. Random Guy started a conversation with us as we were ordering drinks, and it was soon clear he had done so merely to introduce his straight guy friend to a straight girl in the gay bar.
Long story short: Several hours later there was a role reversal as I sat by the door waiting while she made out in the bar. And major props to Shilpa for nabbing a hot 25 year-old triathlete. In a gay bar. And yet surrounded by straight girls. Whatever.
Thursday was a ball. But come Friday after work, we were done. After our naps, we managed to hit the all the vintage/second hand stores on Haight. Only one store had wedding dresses, and even those were meager pickings. We were clearly very last minute for the Bridges of March shopping, and still only semi-conscious and were not going to be able to make it the supper happy fun time that we had planned it to be. Prepping for the Brides event became less fun and more work so we just bailed on the idea all together and vowed to make a big deal of it next year and have a craft party with a dozen folks well in advance. Too bad the Club Jackson Wardrobe Craft Room is no more.
Fortunately for us Skot Land had some time to kill before meeting his BF at 10:00 and wanted to make a plan for dinner and/or entertainment. Shilpa and I managed to rally and wound up having an awesome night in the Mission with Skot Land. He’s a bundle of energy that fed us all night long.
Kissy Kissy Boy Toy (with the “washboard abs and soft hands”) from Badlands was texting Shilpa every few moments while we were at dinner. She was fairly coy, but Skot soon became her Cyrano and some clever T9 dialog later, KKBT was invited to join us after dinner at Martuni’s. KKBT texted back that he would just have to put on his make up and he’d be right there.
Now we love Martuni’s. It’s always fun and always a mixed crowd. And the piano bar is a good mix of classic and tragic and rarely disappoints. But for some strange reason, the piano player wasn’t playing the piano Friday night, but just playing crappy karaoke tunes through his iPod and had a disco globe spinning on the copper-topped piano. There appeared to be two large (and straight) birthday parties (mid-twenties) going on, and the karaoke was a bit too Marina for our tastes. But entertaining nonetheless.
By our second round, KKBT appeared and seemed a but nonplussed about having to be in another gay bar.
Now while Martuni’s is certainly gay, I would not call it a “gay bar.” And, for some reason, KKBT thought it was a drag bar. Hence his “put on my makeup” comment. Only rarely have I seen a drag queen or a tranny in Martuni’s, and never such a critical mass as to ever convey that this was a drag bar or a drag scene. I was hard pressed to even think of a drag bar in this town.
Divas, I think, qualifies as a drag/tranny bar, but I also think that closed down.
Whatever, Martuni’s is certainly not. Hell, this is one of the few places people go for late night
in black tie.
KKBT was also a little over-compensating to express his straightness, which I decided to find cute. He was kindly interested in me, and Skot, and our relationship (friends, Skot has a BF), and how we met (
rodeo).
That we met via the
Rodeo completely threw him. Skot is the President this of the Bay Area Chapter this year. I tried to explain the rodeo and that it is part of a national circuit and is a pretty big deal for gays and cowboys and how I personally avoid anything that might result in a spinal cord injury (one to a family is quite enough) but that I like
chute dogging yadda yadda yadda. When I said that
Bay Area Rodeo is just a chapter of the GSGRA (Golden State Gay Rodeo Association) and a member of the IGRA (International Gay Rodeo Association), he says ”Ohhhh,” as if he finally understood. “So it’s a
gay rodeo. Have you ever been to a
real rodeo?”
That I found offensive.
“It
is a real rodeo. But I’ve been to other ones too... Hey, we wrestle bulls to the ground. How butch do you need me to be?”
I started to tell him that gays aren’t always welcome at the “straight” rodeos, and that’s why there’s a gay one, only to be corrected by Skot who explained that while that was what he originally thought too, the gay rodeo circuit sprang out of fundraising events and is a charitable activity, not a pride or protest thing.
Ultimately, I gave Skot a ride home and we let the cute little kids fend for themselves.
SaturdayOkay, so while I really wanted to participate in the Brides of March, I just knew it wasn’t going to happen. I did consider dressing in formal wear, with my fancy new hat, and showing up to take photos. After a morning after breakfast and bloody marys with Shilps at Harvey’s (we eat there far, far too often), and chatting with all the gays out in the sunny Castro, I spent most of the day trying, and failing, to install new blinds in my apartment.
A good time missed. [See Laughing Squid's
post] But next year we’ll bring it.
I had been looking forward to tonight’s
Bearracuda all week and was going to need a disco nap. Tonight’s event promised one of my favorite DJs, a bunch of new friends I’ve met through Jorge, free massages, a show, and my favorite Trannyshack performers.
Hot Tony’s computer died and I agreed to meet him at the Apple store at 6:00 to help him buy a new one. He dropped the coin for a 17” MacBook Pro and a iPod Nano. We went back to his place near Buena Vista Park and I tried to set him up as best I could. Unfortunately by the time I got to a good stopping place, it was almost 11:00. I had hope to make Bearracuda by 10:00. I had to walk home and then thought I should have something in my stomach. I sautéed a little South Beachy black bean bit and promptly fell asleep over my plate. I had so been looking forward to the party, but was just to beat to have any fun. As much as I wanted to go look for trouble, I didn’t think I could get showered, changed, and parked there before 12:30, and wouldn’t have the energy to make new friends when I got there. Dejected, I bailed and crawled into bed.
Another party missed. Bah.
At 3:45 in the morning, I got a couple of text from friends telling me how much fun it was and why wasn’t I there. If I had known they were there, I totally would have rallied. But I was grateful for the nine hours of sleep I got instead.
SundayJimmy James and I got another quality day together, mostly just milling about super sunny Noe Valley, eating lunch at Savor,
and taking silly headshots while waiting for our food.
And shoe/weight shopping at the Sports Authority.
Question: Do you call them "sneakers" or "tennis shoes"?
Klaus returned to Nob Hill and invited us to meet him and some of his other friends at
The Glass Coffin Twin Peaks at 4:30.
This was the day of repeated just-missed-them’s.
I was determined to work in a mani-pedi, if only for the foot massage (I have done myself serious abuse with all the urban hiking and high-impact dancing). I went into the place downstairs at quarter of four and thought I had plenty of time, but during the pedicure there was some sort of commotion (I don’t know what as they were only talking in Viet Namese) and I was told she’d be right back. I didn’t get out of there until well after 5:00. RMJ texted they were now at the Lookout. I changed into Sundance wear so I could go straight to afterwards, and then dove over to the Castro.
It was a gorgeous day, and everyone was out. And apparently in their cars. I spent 45 minutes parking, and nearly lost my mind. I finally parked at Church and Market and walking up.
RMJ is very good about being present with his friends. If the phone rings during dinner, he doesn’t answer it. I have always respected that, until it comes time to track him down. Come Monday morning, RMJ had about 15 to 20 texts and several voice mails from me trying to figure out where they had gone. I missed them at the Lookout, but found Steve Wilson and a very flirty friend of his visiting from L.A. Perhaps that last bit is redundant. I enjoyed a drink with them, then found Paul Day, Fred, Robert Benda and Scott Hunt on the balcony. PeeDee told me I must have just missed RMJ and Klaus, and that they were headed to Moby’s. After finishing my drink, and corralling Steve and Flirty who wanted to come with me, I made it to Moby’s, where I ran into Eric and Dino who told me I just missed RMJ and Klaus who just left to go find some dinner. Or go to Badlands. So I checked out Badlands and couldn’t find them. I checked in all the restaurants around the corner and Badlands again and couldn’t find them. I had been texting RMJ every few minutes the entire time hoping he would feel his phone vibrate). While checking restaurants in the other direction, RMJ texted they were in Badlands. I did ultimately find them, but by now it was 8:00 and I was due at Sundance.
After Sundance I got a call from Coco to come back to Badlands, but I was no longer in the mood for fun. In fact I was rather pissed off.
For as much fun as it is Sundance Saloon meets in seriously crappy part of town. I feel much safer in the Tenderloin. Space 550 is down off Bayshore near the Hunters Point area. Personal safety is sometimes an issue, and car windows are regularly smashed and anything liftable is stolen. I’ve had my windows smashed and bags stolen too. On Thursdays, they have gotten to the point of blocking off certain streets from patrons as it is just too dangerous to park there during the week. Management has been requesting additional police patrols and has had to hire their own security.
The place is hardly easily accessible by Muni (the 24 Divisidon’t stops several blocks away, but it is a 45 minute to an hour’s ride back to the Castro from there), so everyone drives. You have to make a choice between easy parking and personal/property safety. We get creative with the parking. I generally get there around 8:00-ish and there are few safe places (i.e. well lit, not next to a crack den etc.) left. I sometimes park with half my car in a crosswalk across the parking lot near a curb cut.
This is not a pedestrian area, and no one is just walking in this neighborhood at night. Much less are they wheeling about in a wheelchair. With a wheel chair in the family, I am more sensitive than most when it comes to accessible issues. I don’t consider this one of them. Especially when the choice strictly legal parking versus personal safety.
So imagine how utter offended I was to come out of Sundance to a $275 parking ticket.
We can’t get police patrols for crime and safety, but they will dole out parking tickets. At least it wasn’t a DPT ticket, but one written by the SFPD. Which is even more offensive. This is a high-crime area. We the patrons and me personally have been victimized on this street. But the cops are going to take the time to cite crosswalk-infringing parking violation at night in a pedestrian-deserted area?
Honestly, I do not believe I would have gotten a ticket if I drove a beater and not a Beamer.
I haven’t decided if I am going to fight it or not. I think I have a decent argument with the safety first/lack of patrols issue. And it might be that the SFPD officer would have to show up in court over this, which they often fail to do, as it is not a DPT ticket.
Man. $275. That is a lot for a parking ticket. Especially since I have been saving for auto repairs and that is not what I want to spend my money on. Grrr.
But now that the weekend is recapped, I can move on to Monday (i.e. last night).
(I really do write these more for me as journal than for you as an audience, so apologies if I’ve bored you with the nothing-really-happened-this-weekend narrative. On the other hand, if you have been amused, you’re welcome.)
RMJ is the ultimate wing man— he can, and does, talk to anyone. Only one question remained at the end of the night.
