So in addition to my losing my phone, Bohoken had lost his Grindr box with his credit card, ID and admission pass for the weekend’s parties. While he panicked in the bathroom, I sat hung over calmly at the end of the bed. For some reason, a white plastic bag on the table caught my attention. And what did I find inside said bag but Bohoken’s Grindr box, complete with credit card, license and party pass.
Bohoken: “I have no idea how that made it home.”
Me: “You just outsmarted your sober self. I do it all the time. In fact, my old roommate used to do so when she’d get high and try to stash her weed.”
We sat down for brunch at Lulu, and just as we were served our first drinks, Bohoken saw a missed call and a voicemail on his phone.
“You should listen to this.”
It was exactly the news I was looking for: some gay boy had found my phone at the underwear party and kept it safe. He was planning to drop it off at the front desk in about 20 minutes.
Bohoken: “How the hell did we build up this much good karma?”
Me: “Um, because we’re awesome! That and we tip well.”
After our leisurely brunch (with generous tip), we made our way to the Renaissance Hotel to check the front desk. I’m guessing homeboy was a little more hung over than he’d anticipated because it had been 40 minutes, and neither of the front desk people had received a phone. We left them Bohoken’s number, which, of course, they called 5 minutes after we got back to our hotel. We grabbed our speedos for the next pool party and left to retrieve my phone.
The guy who had found my phone was hanging out by the front desk to make sure I got it back. As much as I like to talk smack about the west coast, that certainly wouldn’t have happened in NYC. Super awesome of him!
We did more of the drink ticket thing at the pool party, and as we ambled around the deck, we ended up befriending a pilot for the LA Clippers and the Lakers, an older worked-out black guy who was truly insane… but in a fun way. After kikiing with him for a while, we exchanged numbers, and he told us to come by for a drink before the party that night.
Later in the afternoon, we put on our clothes, hopped in a cab and ventured off the main strip of Palm Springs to the Saguaro Hotel for the Desert Tea party. This was the one time where an out-of-town Facebook invite was actually relevant to my life (thanks, Corey Craig!). I really wasn’t sure what to expect because this wasn’t on the roster of official White Party events. Maybe it was the size of the pool deck, but this party was much more packed than the last one. Corey Craig’s tunes with the hot guys in the late afternoon sun (mixed with a bit of vodka) made the perfect combination!
“HEY, fuckah!”
As I was coming down from the DJ booth, I saw Hunter of The Maverick Men grinning and pushing his way towards me with Cole and some young twink in tow. Apparently, they’d gotten kicked out of the VIP for getting a bit to freaky with their “dance moves”, but something told me they’d got some video footage out of it (and their website later confirmed it). We had a nice little kiki before they excused themselves to go add to the footage they were collecting.
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| courtesy of TheMaverickMen.com |
After a long disco nap, Bohoken and I were ready to get our costumes on for the pregame. I was quite pleased with how they turned out.
My plan was to keep my phone in Bohoken’s bookbag, which was small enough to not be cumbersome or detract much from our outfits. And of course, when we walked up to the convention center, there was a sign saying no bags inside. There wasn’t even a check. So we walked the bag back to the hotel. Frustrating.
Anticipating long lines, we'd bought VIP passes for the parties, which promised separate, no-wait entry and access to the VIP section of the party. The thing is, we never had to wait at any of the parties. But at the actual White Party, the VIP section came in handy with slightly shorter waits for drinks (even the regular section wasn’t nearly as bad a wait as the previous night) and an elevated view of the stage. This didn’t seem all that special until Mary J. Blige came out and performed.
Mary was just awesome. She brought all the energy, charisma and talent that you’d expect from a superstar (rather than a grown woman on a table singing about “crispy chicken”). She had a live band and did all the hits the gays love (but not so much her older stuff... wrong audience). It was a great show, and from the VIP area, we had a clear, relaxed view over the crowded dance floor.
The White Party was very opposite of the Black Party (surprise, surprise). Not nearly as much skin or as many jock straps, but people were generally more creative with their garb. I didn’t see any area that could have worked as a dark room, either. The annoying thing was that they used different drink tickets at the convention center and didn’t honor the tickets from the pool parties. I had a good time, but after Mary's show wrapped around 2ish, I’d seen about everything I’d come to see. I don’t know that I’d make it a priority to come back any time soon, but then again, I probably wouldn’t travel for the Black Party more than once either.
Did I mention I’d lost my phone again (but the convention center returned my call on Monday and shipped it back to NYC)? Yeah.
Click here to check out Part IV (the 3some gone wrong).
Click here to start over at Part I.
Click here to check out my Beyoncé-themed birthday party.
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