Click here for the first night in Miami.
Click here for Part III.
Palace is notorious for their drag-show brunch. They have an
11:30am seating, but the 2pm seating is what really draws the crowd. Bohoken and I got there in time to grab a table
right on the sidewalk with a great view of the imminent spectacle.
These queens turned it the fuck out like they were legit
southern drag queens (for reference, Miami is not the South)! One barrel rolled across the crosswalk. One almost
knocked a straight girl's camera out of her hand with a high kick (straight
girl’s face: priceless). One did a split on the cement, managing to keep her
panty hose in tact (I want to say that was Latrice Royale from Ru Paul's Drag Race Season 4). And one walked onto a passing tour bus, calling the riders
fat and ugly as she stepped off.
Thank god for cordless mics.
We stayed for quite a few drinks after and ran into the
previous night's shirtless 40-something (who was shirtless again). A
much-needed disco nap preceded a rather drawn-out dinner at the
"appropriately oriented" (unofficially gay) Lords Hotel. We stopped
by Club High for a new gay Sunday party before heading to Twist.
There was a noticeable difference between the
Friday/Saturday go-goes and the Sunday go-goes (my go-go was not there). I'll
leave it at that.
Our entertainment for the evening was an absolutely insane
Spanish-speaking drag queen dressed as a bee (The Simpsons fans: you're
welcome). After pausing some DJ's pre-recorded mix on the CD player, she
mounted the go-go platform stage. Some drunk, fratty douchebag came by
and felt her up as she was introducing herself. And not a quick pat on the ass.
Like full-on massaging for quite a few seconds.
Throughout the night, the drag queen maintained this insane permanent smile, and she did so as she
laughed and called out, "Okay, Sa-kurity! Sah. Kurity." Everyone in
the room was laughing along, including the perpetrator... until security
actually came and kicked his ass out.
The drag queen brought up a guy celebrating his birthday.
"Bartender: 2 chots. Tequila. Please. Okay. I gonna
seeng 'Happy Birrday' to jour deek!"
She got down on her knees and proceeded to sing "Happy
Birthday" to his crotch, hitting it after every line with the mic.
After the show, the drag queen immediately changed and
washed off the makeup to reveal a surprisingly hot guy. But since the show was
over, Bohoken and I went upstairs and stumbled upon the disco video room.
We LOVE disco.
The hot bartender, who was also VJ-ing (Miami is really not
the place to be a gay jockey on Sundays), remembered my drink from the
previous, quite busy night! Bohoken tapered off, but I went on to have a few
too many, singing along to the music with a 60-something who probably would
have been hit on by every guy in the bar back when those songs came out.
Out flight on Monday was quite late, and we hadn't made
plans for the day. I suggested a spa day at the Standard Hotel (day pass: about
$45). Unfortunately, all the spa appointments had already been booked.
We checked our bags at the concierge, changed into speedos and robes. We ended up bypassing the Shan shorts that caught my eye and getting a pair of square cuts at an unspeakable price. This was Bohoken's first speedo experience. I don't know why he was nervous; he looks hot in everything
pick out for him. Anyway, once we were changed, we found a couple of poolside chairs to camp out
on. An hour later, we were about halfway though out first pitcher of some kind
of minty, spiked lemonade and enjoying the view of a shockingly hot 40-something
(greying, wavy hair!) who had taken up residence beside us with his hag (who
was remarkably attractive in her bikini). He was incredibly friendly, and I
swore he was flirting until he mentioned he was Canadian.
. o (Ugh, he's probably just that overtly friendly as a
straight guy.)
It wasn't long before a kiss confirmed that he was into his female
companion that way. But you never know what arrangement they have...
After we finished the second pitcher, I was ready for a dip
in the hot tub. I figured the ice dip was the small pool with the waterfall, so
I stuck my toe into the one between that and the main pool. Good thing I didn't
rush in because I was dead wrong. The
face of the European girl who committed much more to the same mistake 5 minutes
later was an image I'll remember forever.
By dusk, the staff of some fabulous, familiar property (is
there a SoHo House in Miami?) had populated the hot tub with us and were
telling their ridiculous stories from work. I was ready to book another night
and continue kee-kee-ing with them, but thankfully, the combination of
Bohoken's hesitation and my near exhausted state reined me in in time to catch
our flight.
Did I mention that we both slept the whole ride back to NYC
(the nervous flier and the 6'2" light sleeper in coach)? Yeah.
Click here to check out that time a guy I met online flew me out to Chicago.
Posts
0 comments:
Post a Comment