We were in very complementary good spirits. Oh yes, lots of spirits. We had Guinness before leaving the house, and started off at Teske's with "small beers"... a half litre of Warsteiner... then had Sambucca with coffee beans, then had our traditional shot of 112 proof Escorial Grun... a spicy Barvarian herbal liqueur that does really, really weird things to you. We also had spaetzel and potato pancakes with our drinks. Yum.
From there, we walked to Mac's Club, a place that used to be a real dive of a gay bar but which now is in a somewhat classier if less crowded and social place. There was a tall, rather ugly old transvestite at the door with a shockingly red/pink wig with matching ensemble... she was there at the bar with a few other transvestites, obviously dressed up to perform. Apparently, she was on tour... had a Brooklyn accent. Sounded like a Jewish mother...
"You two are so adorable. Are you boyfriends?! Honey, you should take him home and fuck him. Fuck the hell out of him... Come here... Let me see your elbows. You've got young elbows... they're still smooth. They aren't old woman's elbows like mine. Feel my elbows... see how they sag like that?!! You must be about 26 ... and your friend is 24. Am I right?! Can I ask you two a question? Can I ask you a question?! Do you shave your baawls?"
The old drag queen mentioned that they were going to perform just down the street... "where?", we asked. She whispered back something that sounded like "colitis"... in hushed tones, as if she were saying "cancer". We mulled over finding this colitis place, having a few drinks in the meantime (Bass, watermelon schnapps, Absolut mandarin screwdrivers) and playing video bar games.
So, we walked off in the general direction of where the drag queens went and found Kleiden's, a place that used to be called the Dug Out... a really filthy dive in the past... and not in a good way, either. It looked a lot better than it used to. Apparently, they do a gay night there every other Thursday, and we just kind of stumbled upon it. Lots of house and dancing going on in the back, a pretty crowded place, considering, and a side room filled with less attractive older people watching the antics of the drag queens we had seen earlier. We watched for a little bit, but there was just too much non-enjoyable verbal banter going on, so we went back into the other room.
A fullfaced, stocky Latino recognized my friend... turns out that he was Frankie, one of the employees at Underground Records when Randall worked there (which was before I helped manage the place.) They talked a lot, though I was really beginning to crash about that time... wasn't too long before we went home.
Randall is still asleep on the floor of the computer room, so I am trying to type quietly. I feel alright, if a little run through the wringer. No headache, at least. Not a lot is going to get done today by me, but, hey... he doesn't visit often. I suspect there will be more adventures this weekend... maybe clubbing up in the City tonight, if not Sunday as well. I also have Jen's birthday party on Saturday to go to, which should be lovely / a blast / interesting / sexually charged.
Eek! Rampant insobriety... I feel like the green olive in a particularly large martini. Maybe Randall has the right idea. Maybe I should sleep every chance I get!