“Oh, it’s a bar on Christopher St. You’ll love it.”

After a short social hiatus (I needed to get some xmas music recorded), I decided that the Prop 8 demonstration would be a good excuse not to be productive chance to follow in the political activist footsteps of my family.  The day before, Rosey send me an email asking if I was going, and I responded, “Are you hosting a pre-game?”  She was like, “Let’s do it,” so I emailed a few of the girls to meet at Rosey’s at 1 on the day of the demonstration.  As, usual, I was late, so Rosey, Urban Sprawl, and I left as soon as I got to our meeting place. 

Train, train, downtown, ow, ow, work!  Our transfer time at Union Square was mostly spent picking out guys who we could tell were on their way to the demonstration.  “Look at those tailored jeans!... Oh, with that walk, she’s definitely getting off at City Hall!”  Once we arrived, we dived our way into the crowd.  And of course, we picked up a few more girls we knew once we were among the masses. 

The demonstration was cool, and we ended up running into Loosefur as soon as we got there.  Apparently the politically active set isn’t as cute as the (View) Bar Association.  But it was a thick crowd, and we couldn’t make our way close enough to the stage to hear any of the speeches.  Most of tour time was spent cheering at the tour busses going by (we got a thumbs down from some fat married straight guy) and chanting.  Of course, I didn’t chant out loud; I was headed to the studio afterwards!

After the demonstration, we were all starving, so we hopped a train to some gay restaurant the village.  We ended up with a party of 9 at the restaurant.  Apparently, there was a happy hour special at the bar only, so my girls walked from the table, up the stairs, to the bar to get their half-priced drinks and brought them back to the table.  But not I, who was headed back to the studio to more recording. 

We had a very lively dinner, which included an iPhone screening (surprisingly, there were only 3 iPhones at our very gay table) of Scarlet Takes a Tumble.  Plenty of kee-keeing and he-hawing to go around.  As the main an active participant in this tomfoolery, I had used quite a bit of my vocal stamina.

 

The waiter was very much not on top of his game and forgot to charge us for one of the dishes, so we all threw in cash and booked it out of there before he could second guess. 

“PIECES!”

At this point, my voice was fucked, so I decided I may as well have a few drinks and stay out with the girls.  5-foot 8x6 kept the drinks coming as we invaded happy hour with our shrieks of delight and MicHELLe’s bag. 

As usual, the happy-hour crowd at Pieces wasn’t getting any cuter as time went on.  In fact, it was uncute and boring.  Looosefur breaks out into hives if he’s in a non-top-tier bar for more than an hour, so I convinced him to join us on a trip to Chi Chi’s.

“What’s Chi Chi’s?”

*shushing the girls* “Oh, it’s a bar on Christopher St.  You’ll love it.” 

“Okay.”

BTW, did I mention the number of times Loosefur has used “I have plenty of black friends” far outnumbers the black population among his friends?  Okay, that's probably not true, but it was fun to say!

So we amble (loudly) down Christopher, and I grab Loosefur by the arm and pull him in the door just as we’re about to pass Chi Chi’s entrance. 

“Oh, wow.”  Loosey orders a drink.  “That bartender is not happy to see me here… now I know how you feel at Truck Stop.”

“Oh, yeah, and don’t forget that any of my friends who meets me there wants me to call them when I arrive so they don’t have to wait there by themselves.  They who are much closer to the target demographic than I.  Yeah.” 

After a while, he unclenched his butt cheeks and started to have a good time (that might have had to do with the 2-4-1 special they had going). 

Then "Single Ladies" came on.  I’m sorry, that was misleading.  THEN "SINGLE LADIES" CAME ON!

(Yes, I'm that kind of gay.)

The bouncer must have enjoyed the show because it wasn’t until the very last “oh oh oh” that he came over, “We don’t allow dancing in this bar.”  Alas, no cabaret license. 

Some cute guy (? Not sure because I ended up having 4 drinks just at Chi Chi’s), who was ignoring me before, caught my eye, so I ditched the boys to go acquaint myself.  Then the boys ditched me to stuff their fat faces again (hello!  They sell wings and fries at Chi Chi’s!).  After about 45 minutes, I decided that Clinton Hill, Brooklyn was too far a walk of shame, so I got his number and went to meet the rest of the girls at Barrage.  With almost no voice.

Barrage was a mess (late happy hour), which ended up turning into No Parking being a mess.  Did I mention how happy I am that Red Bull is in my life?  Yeah.

Check out another Chi Chi's mess here.

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