Before my friend arrived at the bar, I watched three cowboys line
dance to songs by Pink. With ten gallon hats moving in-line with their hips I knew, “I must be in Austin.” Unfortunately,
there wasn’t a crowd at this bar to applaud their efforts. At the eleventh hour, I followed the advice of
my Aussie friend and headed north. He
headed south to rescue friends from themselves.
A few minutes before midnight, I entered a mid-city bar and brought in the new year with a room full of more-than-me inebriated strangers. This was what I needed; I needed unbridled hedonism at this bewitching hour. Last year, it wasn’t so pretty with me in my pajamas before 10:00.
I came close to finding crazy at this second stop. It arrived after an attractive woman with a great scarf and a gay brother (who flew in from L.A.) bought me a celebratory New Years drink. She was sweet. I'm not sure if she was taking pity on my being alone, or if she was trying to pick me up. If she's gay, I'd have liked to have known that info. The scarf threw me off and I’m bad at this “Is a Lesbian Behind Door #3?” four-dimensional board game. I didn't get a chance to ask, because she followed the brother to the patio, and then I was abducted by a man who popped an Ambient with each Scotch-and-soda request.
It was surreal to have shared so many affections with a complete stranger. He held my hand, played with my fingers, kissed my cheek sweetly. He grabbed and pulled me through the maddening crowd, looking for someone for him, for me, and for him too. We had the best time and I loved every second of the madness even after the Marine-looking guy—who had mistakenly found a gay bar on New Year’s—made a swarm of lesbians really angry some moments before he grabbed my butt and nibble-chewed on my ear, holding my throat in a headlock from behind. "Secuuuuurity!" He was some kind of wasted, but the bartender and bouncer saved him from the lesbian blanket-party-beat-down that would have been really kitten-fight messy.
I was hanging with hundreds of strangers, wiping spit off my cheek after one of four drag queens got caught up in his own movie script drama, and enduring the insults from a gay man who commented on my evening attire.
“Why didn’t you dress up?”
“This is a Camuto blouse.”
“Oh. Well, that’s ok.”
“Aren’t gay guys supposed to know this stuff?”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
"Absolutely, my friend."
This kind of randomness and abuse may not be your cup of tea, and I’m pretty sure that—if offered a menu of options—I wouldn’t have thought them desirable enough either. I'd have selected a warm girlfriend and a good dinner, or a good girlfriend and a warm dinner. But, the best stuff was buried inside the cavity of an unplanned agenda.
There I was making the best of my prolonged solitary confinement and ringing in the new year with a collective of colorful drug-induced narratives that were involuntarily emanating from inviting strangers. Borrowing from their highs and weaving imaginary stories that entertained me and I, we were excited about the potential for radical change in 2013. The old earth died on Dec 21. With this new wave of cosmic enlightenment, I am open-arm inviting—"Bring it, sister goddess!"
I hope your celebration was awesome and you had a spectacular kiss at midnight. If not, next year, come with me to Ozstin. We'll find something as entertaining as a confused Marine, a not-so-fashion conscious gay-man benefactor, and lots of sweet drug-induced kisses from strangers who want to share love.
I'd love to read your tale tomorrow—sometime after coffee and before a bloody mary, "). Cheers!
A few minutes before midnight, I entered a mid-city bar and brought in the new year with a room full of more-than-me inebriated strangers. This was what I needed; I needed unbridled hedonism at this bewitching hour. Last year, it wasn’t so pretty with me in my pajamas before 10:00.
I came close to finding crazy at this second stop. It arrived after an attractive woman with a great scarf and a gay brother (who flew in from L.A.) bought me a celebratory New Years drink. She was sweet. I'm not sure if she was taking pity on my being alone, or if she was trying to pick me up. If she's gay, I'd have liked to have known that info. The scarf threw me off and I’m bad at this “Is a Lesbian Behind Door #3?” four-dimensional board game. I didn't get a chance to ask, because she followed the brother to the patio, and then I was abducted by a man who popped an Ambient with each Scotch-and-soda request.
It was surreal to have shared so many affections with a complete stranger. He held my hand, played with my fingers, kissed my cheek sweetly. He grabbed and pulled me through the maddening crowd, looking for someone for him, for me, and for him too. We had the best time and I loved every second of the madness even after the Marine-looking guy—who had mistakenly found a gay bar on New Year’s—made a swarm of lesbians really angry some moments before he grabbed my butt and nibble-chewed on my ear, holding my throat in a headlock from behind. "Secuuuuurity!" He was some kind of wasted, but the bartender and bouncer saved him from the lesbian blanket-party-beat-down that would have been really kitten-fight messy.
I was hanging with hundreds of strangers, wiping spit off my cheek after one of four drag queens got caught up in his own movie script drama, and enduring the insults from a gay man who commented on my evening attire.
“Why didn’t you dress up?”
“This is a Camuto blouse.”
“Oh. Well, that’s ok.”
“Aren’t gay guys supposed to know this stuff?”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
"Absolutely, my friend."
This kind of randomness and abuse may not be your cup of tea, and I’m pretty sure that—if offered a menu of options—I wouldn’t have thought them desirable enough either. I'd have selected a warm girlfriend and a good dinner, or a good girlfriend and a warm dinner. But, the best stuff was buried inside the cavity of an unplanned agenda.
There I was making the best of my prolonged solitary confinement and ringing in the new year with a collective of colorful drug-induced narratives that were involuntarily emanating from inviting strangers. Borrowing from their highs and weaving imaginary stories that entertained me and I, we were excited about the potential for radical change in 2013. The old earth died on Dec 21. With this new wave of cosmic enlightenment, I am open-arm inviting—"Bring it, sister goddess!"
I hope your celebration was awesome and you had a spectacular kiss at midnight. If not, next year, come with me to Ozstin. We'll find something as entertaining as a confused Marine, a not-so-fashion conscious gay-man benefactor, and lots of sweet drug-induced kisses from strangers who want to share love.
I'd love to read your tale tomorrow—sometime after coffee and before a bloody mary, "). Cheers!
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