After the beach with the 2 Aussies, I took a disco nap and woke up around 9-something. I had considered doing some kind of outrageous outfit for that night at the Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras Party '10. Then I remembered being a black man in Sydney was outrageous in and of itself. Thus, I decided my outfit would be shirtless.
I stopped in at Saddle Bar on the way. For some reason, I felt really self-conscious. Probably because it felt a little more like what's-she-doing-here stares or someone-should-tell-her-about-the-toilet-paper-stuck-to-her-shoe stares than the usual let's-ogle-the-exotic-man stares. A creepy guy would smile at me every time he walked by. Then he started saying stuff as he walked by, which was fine because he kept walking. But one time he stopped. We started talking, which was uncomfortable enough as it was. Then came the ultimate convo killer:
“So… are you looking for, uh, some extra money or anything?”
Apparently what everyone was staring at was the “HUSTLER” tattoo I had on my forehead.
I felt much better once I struck up a convo with a white guy dressed like a Viking. He was buying drinks for a pair of femme Figian guys who were a riot. I danced with them for a bit before heading to the party.
The walk over brought back all kinds of memories because it was the same way I'd walk home from my days at the Uni and my nights on Oxford St. I literally passed my old house on the corner of South Dowling and Flinders. It really did feel like a pilgrimage. Many of us skipped the cab fare for the mile walk from Oxford St, and a line trickling line of gays in outrageous costumes and outfits ambled up Flinders St and across Moore Park.
On the way in, I noticed two tall, slim RGs.
Me: "Honey, you're really gonna do this party in those heels? I mean, they're fierce, but really?"
Heels: "You know, I have some flats in the car, but I wasn't sure if I should wear them."
Me: "Well, there's all kinds of signs that say no re-entry, so if you do it, you're stuck. Maybe you should put them in your bag..."
Turns out Heels' boyfriend was a photographer for the party. Flats (because I don't remember what kind of shoes she was wearing, but the zebra pants were hot) was there for the first time, but she said her mother had been to 10 of these parties. "I'm not allowed to go to Sleaze [the party I went to when I was in Sydney in '03] because that's her thing."
Flats was really excited about David Guetta. I still don't get why he "performs" live, but I figured it couldn't take too long. It seemed to be in progress when we walked in, but there wasn't much to see. We found a spot along the wall where there weren't many people. Thankfully, he led off with "When Love Takes Over."
I almost choked on my Dentine Ice, Arctic Chill gum: Kelly Rowland came out on stage. I literally started screaming and jumping up and down. I had no idea she was appearing, and it really caught me off guard.
After all that excitement, we all need some fresh air. We met up with Heels' boyfriend photographer and his photog friend outside by the Red Bull tent. He snapped some pictures of us, and I gave him and his friend my card.
Boyfriend: "Wow, this is a hot picture!"
Me: "Thanks. I've since become a fan of good lighting!"
Boyfriend's friend (tucking card into the waistband of his undies): "Oh, yeah! This is going right here!"
Boyfriend: "Me too!"
Me: "Wow. Now I can say I went to Mardi Gras and got into 2 straight guys' pants in one evening. Sweet!"
Outside, I ran into The Aussie and his hot friend and with few straight couples. The 3 of us (and a few of the straights) migrated to The Dome for deep house and to check out the leather scene. His friend wandered off, and I ended up making out with The Aussie. After the friend found us again, I may or may not have offered for both of them to "crash [naked]" in the CBD instead of trekking back to Bondi where they were staying.
After the Dome shut down for the night, and everyone migrated to the main dance hall, but we opted for the courtyard outside. We spend another 2 hours outside (in the morning light) people watching with the two fabulous Fijians I had met earlier. At one point, a trans-woman walked by. You could tell she'd had a lot of work done.
Fijian: "I wonder if she's had ribs taken out."
Other Fijian: "And put in her cheeks?!"
I managed to convince both guys to grab breakfast on Oxford St, literally steps from my hotel. The hot friend ended up going back to their place in Bondi.
Did I mention that I’d finally managed get a (super-hot) Aussie back to my hotel? Yeah!
Click here to check out my day at the beach with the two Aussies (and what they got me to do in public).
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