Maybe Barack will pick her for poet laurite too!

I hardly know where to even begin describing the actual weekend that was my 25^th birthday (that's right: I'm no longer allowed to use "boi" in any screenname from now on).  I slept walked through doing absolutely nothing at work on Friday and headed home for the most delicious disco nap ever.  Urban Sprawl and Don Juan from San Juan agreed to meet up No Parking around 11:45.  The fact that Don Juan was coming was extra sweet because he definitely got the attention of the owner of the bar, Lionel.  This meant we would get to do free shots while Don Juan stroked his long, thick mane (and yes, that was the only thing he was stroking night… the only thing on another person, at least).  PS, we love Don Juan sans free drinks too (read: bitch, you’d better not fuck this up!).

 

So I get there and greet all the bar tenders, telling them “It’s my birr’day!  Happy birr’day!” in my awful Dominican accent.  It was surprisingly un-crowded, but the crowd doesn’t usually get thick until 1 anyway. Urban Sprawl shows up (running on just gay time, not Dominican time… I know you’re working hard on that, US), followed shortly by Fung Wah.  Fung Wah had texted me, What’s up for tonight, and I told her No Parking, totally not expecting her to trek up from way So of Ho all the way up to the 170s.  Well, tada!  The drinks start flowing, Rs get rolled, and dollar bills get stuffed into naughty places (and not just on the go-go gods, either).  12:30, no Don Juan.  1:30, no Don Juan.  If my memory serves me well, which after those long islands and that screwdriver, it probably didn’t, she didn’t chasse through the door until about 2:38am!  I know No Parking is fun later, but damn!

 

Pretty soon, the moment we’ve all been waiting for arrives: Lionel makes her entrance *applause*.  Don Juan couldn’t have played it cooler if I had trained her myself!  What a champ, or so I thought.  What I didn’t realize until Don Juan told me later that night was that when Don Juan had arrived, there was a line of about 20 people outside (as per usual at No Parking at that time), but Lionel just happened to be a the door and just happened to let Don Juan slide in.  So I guess we missed the blushing, the giggling, and the awkwardly high-pitched, “Hi!” 

 

Lionel greets us and goes to check on things behind some door (which just happens to be the same door behind which the go-go gods get changed… oh what you could charge for that surveillance footage) before tying his hair back and getting behind the bar.  I’ll admit: I have a thing for just about every bartender (okay, okay, that bar back too) at this bar, but I have to say that nobody looks hotter pouring alcohol at No Parking than Lionel.  So we’re all trying not to miss a moment between the go-go gods and the bartenders when out of nowhere clear shot glasses appear from behind the bar.  Petrón, of course.  And of course, Lionel takes a shot with us, and with none of that pour-it-on-the-floor-while-no-one’s-looking or act-like-you’re-chasing-with-a-beer-and-spit-it-in-the-bottle bullshit either (b/c you know I was watching for that!).  We had to beg him for salt and limes though (she likes her tequila straight[-acting]). 

 

At one point, this very short, medium-brown-toned woman with light curly hair (or it may have been dreds… I can’t quite remember) had done something rude early in the night… probably pushed past me without an ‘excuse me’ or something like that as she was walking by.  We decided we didn’t like her attitude for the rest of the night (we being me), and we named her Maya Angelou.  So every so often I would say something about Miss Angelou to the boys.  When Lionel came over to bring us more shots, I said, “Look, Miss Angelou’s joined us for a drink!  Maybe Barack will pick her for poet laurite too!”  Lionel kind of laughs and says, “That’s my mother.”

 

Not long after, Urban Sprawl played gay ninja and disappeared to Queens without a trace.  Fung Wah decided she couldn’t deal anymore and left when he saw a hint of ugly lights.  The end of the night is kind of spotty (I’m sure you can understand), but at 4:30, Lionel was making sure the bouncers shooed out everyone that was trying to be cool and stay in the bar.  “These two are with me, but anybody that doesn’t work here…”  Yay for actually being cool (even if only by association)!  I was done around 4:35 (Lionel was pouring wine), so I took my walk down St. Nicholas Ave.  Did I mention I was wearing spray-on white jeans?  Yeah.