These cheap fucking gays! It’s a dollar! (Drinking for a Change's Launch Night)

On the Friday I got back from Australia, I had agreed to host a night for Drinking for a Change. Kevin Forsyth, founder, approached me one night out and explained the concept behind it.

“You know how all those churches take members’ tithes [members are supposed to donate 10% of their income to the church] and use the money for anti-gay political action? Well, this could be like a gay tithe. We get bars to add a dollar to everyone’s drinks once a month or whenever, and we donate that money to not-for-profits that serve our community.”

Basically, he wanted to get people that were well connected to be in the bar to explain what was going on and to invite people to get involved. I didn’t agree right away for the very reason why I would be good at it: it reminded me of when I used to work for the Red Bull Mobile Energy Team in college. But eventually, I got over it and agreed to host.

I was assigned to the Ritz (my first choice because I figured it was a more central location than Pieces and I could get more people I knew to show up) along with a few other unnamed friends and acquaintances. I had an hour to kill between work and hosting, so I met up with a few people at ASFKAB’s new Hell's Kitchen duplex (ASFKAB was hosting at a different bar). We ordered Thai and had a drink before we walked down to the Ritz.

One of the neighborhood reps gave us the supplies we needed when we got there. We were the first 3, so I was able to snag a small Drinking for Change shirt (yes!). The end of their happy hour crowd was there. We walked around giving out stickers and talking to people, but the bartenders, who were quite enthused about the cause, had already told the patrons what was going on. We grabbed a drink and waited for the rest of the hosts to show up.

One of the other hosts was determined that this was an opt-in bar, which meant that the dollar would only be added on if patrons wore the sticker. I was pretty sure The Ritz was doing it automatically, but he insisted that it was opt-in and went to selling people on the stickers. Within the first 5 minutes, he came back to us like, “These cheap fucking gays! It’s a dollar!” I asked the neighborhood rep on his way out, and he confirmed that it the bar was adding the extra dollar automatically. When I informed the other host, he turned to a guy who had turned down a sticker (his back was to us) and yelled, “Ha! Jokes on you, ya cheap fuck!”

Around 8:30, a really good-looking guy came in with a girl and said he was also hosting. We handed him a shirt and some stickers. He changed in the bar in front of us, and all of our jaws dropped when we saw how well his body matched his face (but we all managed to pull it together by the time his head popped through the shirt).

Now I didn’t hear this myself, but a fellow host said that about 10 minutes after dude arrived, he realized that we didn’t drink for free. He apparently said, “This is bullshit! Let’s go for dinner or something.” What I did see was him changing back into his own shirt and waving a goodbye with a “I can’t stay, guys. See you!”

Hotness.

Wasted.

By 11, we’d passed out every sticker and had pretty much talked to most of the people in the now crowded bar. It was weird to see the transition between happy hour, the post-happy hour lull, and the Friday-night crowd. A bunch of my friends ended up there later in the night, so it was mostly hanging out with them between spurts of talking to people about the org.

After we were done at midnight, one of the other hosts and I checked out Bar-tini. I figured I hadn’t been there since it had opened, and it was right around the corner. It turns out it wasn’t nearly as expensive or stuffy as we thought it might be, and the music was pretty fun.

Random: "Can I take a picture of your shirt?"
Me (posing): "Why sure!"
Random: "Um, can you turn around? I want to get the back."
Me (confused): "Er, okay."

That's when I realized that our shirts had copy on the back. I hadn't noticed the whole night!

I’d left my bag at the office, which wasn’t far from Bartini. I was going back and forth about picking it up since I was closer to the train than the office. When I got on the train, I decided that I really should get my bag, but the train skipped my stop for work. I figured I’d just get it in the morning.

I got to Washington Heights and realized that my keys were in my bag. At the office. 120 blocks downtown. My roommate was dead to the world, and Cabbage Boy, who lives in my new building, was downtown at a party.

But when you’re good to people, people are good to you. A guy I’d met about a month before on Grindr (who happens to live a few blocks from my office), actually answered his phone (even though he was alseep). I told him what had happened and told him that he should probably go back to sleep, but he insisted that I come over and crash. “I’m a pretty light sleeper, so the phone will wake me up. But I have to be up by 10, so we have to actually go to sleep. Call me when you’re at the door.”

Did I mention that I love being me? Yeah.

Click here to check out Drinking for a Change's website.

Click here to check out Tighty Whitey's birthday photoshoot.

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Images borrowed from drinkingforachange.org.