So this guy and I ended up crashing in my hotel room around 6 in the morning. It was about 9:30 when the banging started. I figured it was a plumber working on the pipes in the bathroom on the other side of the wall, but after 2 hours of intermittent banging and metal sawing, I called the front desk. They informed me that the noise was coming from the renovation project (which I later found out was happening on the roof) and that the work would likely happen from about 9am to about 7pm. He said something about them mentioning the renovation on the website, but he also mentioned that I could be refunded my money for the rest of the week if I wanted to check out. It was tempting, but it was already after check-out time for the day. I figured I may as well stick with the convenient location and just vary my sleep schedule.
The Twipster was about to implode with hunger, so as soon as I was finished dealing with reception, he dragged my out (unshowered) to grab some really cheap, really good Japanese around the corner. He had to run to Fitzroy (not far from where we were the night before) to get his car, so I figured I’d come with him to see the area. On the way, we ran into two girlfriends of his, both of which draped themselves in bright colored fabric and eyeshadow. In fact, the eye shadow was more of a fashion accessory worn like glasses than an accent to bring out their natural features.
Once we got to the Twipster’s car, he took me back down to St. Kilda to the beach.
Him: “The only people who really go swimming here are the tourists who don’t know any better. The water even looks murky with the run-off from the city, and there’s a much better beach about 10 kilometers south of here. Really, I wouldn’t even walk in the sand; god knows what you’ll step on.”
Me: “Kinda like Coney Island…”
We walked around for a bit longer before he went back to his apartment and I returned to the Central Business District (CBD). By this time, it was well into the afternoon, but I really wanted to get a jump start on shopping before the weekend crowds came in. I went to Target and David Jones, a large Aussie department store, and picked up a few pairs of underwear that I’d never seen in the US. I don’t really like brandishing familiar brand names, but I love a cute waistband. Even better if it’s a brand (like Holeproof or Bonds) that isn’t readily available in NYC.
My day was kind of ruined when I went across the street to Myer, another department store, and found they had the same brands on sale.
I finally made it back for a few hours sleep around 6. This night, I had planned to go down to Prahran, the shopping district with what seemed to be the more popular and trendy clubs. My first stop was Xchange Hotel. As I was waiting for my drink in the front bar, a rough-looking guy (not necessarily in a sexy way) came up and ordered a beer and a shot of Bacardi 151.
Me: “Wow, I didn’t know they had that here. I couldn’t find it anywhere in ’03.”
Him: “Watch this.”
He took the shot without so much as a grimace, searching my face for approval. I took that as a sign to avoid him for the rest of the night.
I saw a sign that mentioned their free WiFi, so I asked a bartender for the password. He didn’t know, so he asked another bartender, who didn’t know. I got a “Wait here” while they ran into the other bar to ask someone else. About 3 minutes later, a super-hot dark-skinned guy (perhaps Middle Eastern?) came out and told me the password. I was really kind of embarrassed that this much of a production was made for me to sign onto Grindr. And even worse, about 5 minutes later, I overheard, “HA! He’s on Grindr!”
. o O (Well, if you could attract more hotties to your bar…)
The real issue was that everyone was upstairs on the terrace smoking. The Twipster had told me that when they had outlawed smoking in bars, venues with no outdoor space went out of business. Keep in mind, this is a country where the cigarettes come with pictures of cancerous flesh on each pack.
Later, there was a drag performance with at least 5 young drag queens in the larger back bar. Some of these drag queens were obviously professional dancers because a few performances came off as much more look-at-how-well-I-dance rather than look-at-how-lady-like-I-am. After the 20-minute show, the DJ played the music video for “Telephone” (which had just come out that day). An older drag queen who was MC-ing announced that the bar had comp admissions for Market, a club down the street that everyone had suggested (in much the same way that people in NYC suggest Splash to out-of-towners), from 2 to 2:15am.
A guy started talking to me because I was alone and on my phone. Really, I was just doing a final Grindr check before I left because it was almost 2 (and I really didn’t want to pay to get into Market). The guy brought me over to his friends, who were cordial but basically cleared out within 5 minutes. . o O (WTF? Did I step into a portal back to NYC?! Am I serving aloof realness again? Do I smell?) I took the guy’s “I did my best, mate!” as my cue to make my exit for Market.
Market was disappointingly empty, so I got my stamp for re-entry and stopped by Heaven’s Door, a divey pub next door (with non-divey prices… but no cover). They had a drag show with 2 queens going on, and after the show, they played some fun hop-hop/pop music.
Market ended up being a good time. It was just crowded enough to be interesting. Guys actually had their shirts off (I don’t think anyone had a shirt off at either bar the night before)! The DJ pumped the common-time gay music while the dance floor lit up with an awesome laser show.
That Saturday, I went shopping all down Chapel St. All afternoon, I wandered in and out of at least 30 shops. Everything was either too expensive for what it was (exchange rate!) or just not for me. The only thing I did get was a new piece of nipple jewelry that was a 360-degree ring with no balls. I later realized that no one would notice the novelty of this piece unless they were very familiar with body piercings, but it's like a hoop earring with no visible clasp.
That night, I met up with a guy from A4A. He had very sexy pictures, but he was a total gentleman when we met up at Greyhound Hotel. He even said, “I have to work tomorrow morning, so you do your own thing tonight. I can drop you off if you wanna go somewhere else after this." I had him drop me off at Market without so much as a goodnight kiss. Or even an “accidental” feel-up the whole night.
I got hit on by a couple of guys, but no one who drove me wild with desire. The first guy I tried to initiate something with either didn’t get it or was too wrapped up with his friends (because there was no way he could have been flat out turning me down… obvi). The other guy showed up around 5am by himself with his shirt off. I saw him looking at me, so I went over and talked to him for about 5 or 10 minutes before he said, “Well, I have a boyfriend, but do you see any talent you’re interested in?” A smooth rejection for sure. Too bad none of the ‘talent’ had ‘beauty.’
Oz Paws: “Ok, guys! Let’s go back to Blonde Bird’s house. D. Kareem, you’re coming with us. Do you smoke crystal?”
Me: “Have you not seen the Meth=HIV posters in every bathroom in NYC! No, I don’t.”
Oz Paws: “I have to get my bag from downstairs. Bird, do you have a pipe at your place?”
Me: “I should go back to the hotel. I really need some sleep.”
Blonde Bird: “We’re catching a cab. Can we give you a lift?”
Me: “Unless you guys are going into the city…”
Oz Paws: “Well, you must come to the pool later! It’s going to be 30 degrees tomorrow! It’s literally right behind that Hungry Jack’s on the corner of Chapel St!”
I gave them a card with my number, and they promised to call. Did I mention I had about an hour and a half before construction was supposed to start up again at the hotel? Yeah.
Click here to check out my first night in Melbourne.
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