The Street (part 2)

Saturday was totally boring, lets skip it.

On Sunday, I was to meet the boy with my father's name again at Arq, because some dumb bitch Australian Idol reject named Ricki Lee was performing. In retrospect, she was actually quite good, but that's irrelevant to the story.

I decided it wouldnt be a bad idea to pregame, and I knew Stonewall had no cover charge. Turns out it was a bad idea. The drag queens on Friday were scary, but this night was some insane major drag event. Almost everyone was in drag, and most were fucking terrifying. Seriously, there's nothing sexy about this. But, interestingly enough, the most hideous one (the one with a witch's nose, wildly frizzed hair, and missing teeth) was also the most entertaining. Go figure.

I tried to quiz the locals as to what the true appeal of drag shows is, but no one could answer. It really is a mystery. However, its apparently a taboo to even ask. I got some daft dirty looks. So, I shut my mouth and returned to the show, at which point my mouth became slackjawed, and I stared with a mixture of curiosity, amusement, and cold fear. Once again I questioned my sexuality.

Desperate for relief from the insanity, I escaped outside and sat on a bench next to a fountain. The peace did not last. Two girls immediately plopped down on either side of me. I seriously entertained the thought that these two young girls were about to mug me. However, they must've heard me mumbling to myself, because they were deeply fascinated by my American accent.

They also had the common courtesy to warn me to not take ecstasy pills with a Chanel or Pac-Man stamp, despite me giving no indication I needed to know this. Luckily, I was rescued when old man in a leather jacket with dirty dreadlocks and sunglasses with one lens missing and a mutt in tow came over and asked the girls if they had a lighter or wanted to suck his cock. We gave him the slip and entered the closest bar. We all had a schooner of beer as they told stories about the time they dated a gang leader or fucked a pro rugby player. Luckily, I was rescued when a drunk fat guy stumbled over and put his arms on our shoulders and said "Get a room, you three!" before zig-zagging out the door.

Apparently, this is a regular Sunday night for them.

Because one of the girls was having a bad trip, they decided to leave and go home, leaving me on my own again. I figure it was time to head to Arq, but walking to it meant walking past Stonewall again. I was not the only one. As I passed, a group of older Asian tourists walked past. Collectively, as if of one consciousness, they all whipped out their video cameras and starting recording the gay bar. You find Asian tourists everywhere in this city, so I dont know why I was surprised to find them after midnight on the scuzziest street in the city with their pocket cams. I guess I was more surprised that they were so interested.

Entering Arq, I found the boy with my father's name quickly enough, though he was not alone. Also with him was a fat boy with a highly common name, and a tall cute boy who shared my name. I very quickly picked up on the dynamic. Father's Name and Common Name were close friends. Father's Name was the life of the party and would show off for anyone. Common Name was interested in Father's Name, but had a bigger, painfully obvious crush on My Name, who only seemed interested in music, always in a trance. Though, Father's Name and My Name might've been occasional fuck buddies. I nestled my way inside.

I thought it would be easy to get with Father's Name again, but he didnt seem to be having any of it, even rejecting my request for a dance. Couldnt tell if it was because his friends were around or he regretted the other night. As the night wore on, I figured him out. My instincts were right; the boy is always performing. He'd always mimicking the drag queens (who are actually pretty funny in Arq) or dancing like an old pro or flirting. Before, it was just us, but now he has Common Name, who soaks up everything he does, enraptured like he'd seen an angel. I wasnt his audience anymore.

I guess that still leaves the question of why he hooked up with me for so long, but maybe that was just another performance. Or he's a bored nymphomaniac. Doesnt really matter now. He left early, with the briefest pleasant-not-intimate hug, and walked off, knowing we'd never get the chance to finish what we started. Common Name followed like a lost puppy, but I was pretty certain his desires were in vain. My Name continued to dance in his trance.

I stayed behind with My Name, and actually managed to draw him out of a comatose dancing state long enough to get to know him some. He's actually quite a pleasant guy, though I dont imagine there's much going on behind the eyeballs, if you know what I mean. Still, I had someone to dance with, so I didnt feel so out of place. And he was easy on the eyes, even though I knew I had no chance and didnt try. And I picked up a few new dance moves from him.

As the night wore on, I discovered Arq has a few shifts. Early on, its basically empty. Then, you have the young cool crowd. But this yields way to older topless men, which eventually becomes older topless thai/asian men. We developed a codeword for old men trying to dance with/grope us. We'd yell "Avocado!" and grab for each other. Seemed to work well enough.

Luckily I left before the last shift. I didnt want to know what it was like at the end of the night, when everyone left is looking for someone to go home with. My knees just hurt too much from bouncing every second for over 4 hours. That's almost 15,000 bounces to go on top of a day of walking everywhere.

As I walked back to the hostel to say goodbye to Sydney, a taxi full of Thai women sailed past, and yelled something that I think amounted to an invite to get in. Finally, at the very end of my stay, I found prostitutes. I'd wondered where they'd been hiding this whole time.

In the end, I'm not sure what I learned. I learned that some gay guys like Father's Name and his friend, while pleasant, are ultimately about themselves. They live to show off. Others, like My Name, are all about the dance. And others still, like Common Name are just regular people, who cant dance and dont have perfect bodies, who realize they'll always be on the fringe of gay culture. But they all realize they're young, and fear the day that comes to the end, when they garner a yell of "Avocado!". Despite the visceral pleasure of making out with my online friend, the experience was actually quite depressing. I'm not long for America, and its about time I started working on reviving my straighter half if I dont want to end up pathetic and alone.