what I like to call a Salt and Pepper Steak

Oh, another Thursday night!  As I thought about the night’s plans, I was really itching for something different.  I mean, Splash downstairs is fun on a Thrusday night, but we’ve been there every Thursday night since February.  Of ’07.  I remembered the Ritz having a party by the same promoter that did Luke and Leroy on Thursday nights (basically, a party for black guys and the guys who love them).  It's a hilarious scene at the Ritz because all the black guys and shadow chasers end up upstairs, and all the white people congregate downstairs.

I walk into View Bar, and it’s about the second most crowded Thursday I’ve ever seen there!  It takes me more than 5 minutes to get a drink, and when the Daddy Bartender (who now knows my order, yes!) finally looks at me to get my order, he spills a frozen drink on some queen’s back.  Another 2 minutes of toweling and dabbing.  He sets my drink down with a wink, and the Iceback Queen thinks it’s compensation for her frostbite.  I refrain from the bitch-dats-mine’s-ness and turn to the Daddy Bartender who quickly rectifies the situation. 

I chasse through the crowd over to my girls just as “When I Grow Up” comes on (boobies), so greetings were cut short for an En Vogue (minus Med School Mess) performance.  MicHELLe and TOoMA had brought some of their friends, so I was constantly asking, “Do I know her?” before winking and giving them a “Hey girl!”  Rutgirls was of no help when he yelled, “Dude, that’s MicHELLe’s roommate.  You know her.”  You do realize that you’re standing right next to her, right, Rutgirls.  “Nooooo,” I saved, “of course I know herrrrr!  Hey, girl!”  Did I mention I’m a superficial-social disaster?

There are constantly more hotties coming to View Bar every week, which kinda sucks because that was a great place to drink cheap with out a heavy crowd and to not have to worry about perception management.  The good thing is that there are more hotties to yell at.  I was particularly impressed by what I like to call a Salt and Pepper Steak (an older, handsome man, usually with a full head of graying hair and a nice body).  Within 5 minutes, I realized he was a huge queen (which was fine by me).  What killed it was when he switched places with his friend, and I saw him from the front.  What’s that first line from “Total Eclipse of the Heart” again…

As I said, I was really in the mood for something new, but friends of the Ivy League Crew were afraid they’d miss out on some non-verbal interaction with that one cute twink who wasn’t there last week (and by non-verbal, I meant non-existent).  I rounded up a little posse to go to the Ritz, but by the time we walked out the door, it ended up being Bottomless Pitt and I.  Fuck it; we’re going.

Well, as it turns out, we didn’t leave View until just after midnight (I really should have been taking my ass home), and the train definitely took its time coming.  We walk into the Ritz, and the upstairs bar is roped off.  So either the black-guy party happened earlier or didn’t happen.  Either way, we head directly to the dance floor.  Basically, if the music at the Ritz on a Friday is a 9, Thursday is an 8 with half the crowd.  Hair was tossed, lyrics were changed, and (hot) guys were yelled at.  Did I mention it’s much closer to WaHi than Splash?  Yeah.

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