I really just need to stop going out on the weekends. Or at least going out with my buddy Frank.
It was Frank & Co.’s big idea to go out to this club called Hell in Chapel Hill this past Saturday night. According to Frank- every second and fourth saturdays of the month, Hell hosts a huge dance party that is a big hit with the gays. These dance parties were purported to be slighly mixed with straights, but very friendly– AND the crowd was said to be 30-somethings.
One of our friends (an ex I call Richard the 2nd) even met a “hot” guy at the last dance party and they managed to go out on a date!! According to Frank, this guy (named James) was “just my type” and Frank wanted to set me up with him (more on Richard’s date with this guy in a minute)
Even though I am highly skeptical of anything Frank says is fun (he IS after all currently dating someone less than half his age) I allowed myself to be sucked in. I agreed to go- mainly because I really needed a night out after a month of not leaving my house. So I got all dolled up, plucked and tweazed myself into a stupor, and donned my best “Kum & Go” hat. Damnit, I was ready.
So we arrived at Hell promptly at 10:45 (EARLY!) so as to avoid the HUGE line that would surely be forming in the next 15 minutes or so. We of course are able to head right down the stairs and to the ID check area.
Immediately I’m struck by the feeling that something is amiss. It was the music. It was definitely not gay-bar-ish at all. The DJ (if you can call him that) was spinning funk/soul music. Don’t get me wrong, I actually APPRECIATED this, as I don’t tend to like the thumpa-thumpa shit. But I knew at that point that strange things were afoot at the Circle K.
Then we walk in. The early crowd was a mix of collegiate girls fresh from some sort of sorority gathering, 80’s hair band rocker wannabes, and many MANY men with mullets.
I am not exaggerating.
The ensuing conversation went something like this:
cb: Um, Frank- I don’t think this is a gay dance party atmosphere.
frank: Its still early. This place will be PACKED by 12.
cb: Yeah, but packed with WHAT? Frank, I haven’t seen this many mullets since the last Indigo Girls concert.
frank: Trust me. Lets go play some airhockey.
So we began drinking and playing air hockey. And then foosball. And true to his word, the bar did begin to fill up… with college kids. Oh, and two white guys dressed as black rappers from the 80’s replete with the Louis Vuitton baseball caps kicked sideways.
Around this time Richard spilled the beans on his date with this “hot” guy from the last Hell dance party. James, as it turns out, does not have a car or a driver’s license. He also evidently doesn’t have two nickels to rub together as when he went to get money so that he could pay for dinner, the ATM ate his card. This is the guy that is evidently “just my type”.
And so I kept drinking– but the bar didn’t get any gayer. Or better. Frank finally came back to our group after a bathroom trough visit and admitted to us that evidently the gay dance party had been cancelled in favor of the fresh hell that we were currently mired in. How festive for me!
Looking around, I began to feel very old. It was as if I had somehow stumbled into the past to a scene that I was familiar with but no longer a part of. Like a “Big Chill” or “St. Elmo’s Fire” in joke that I just didn’t grok. The whole thing was a stew of bad hair, big glasses, tight jeans, cigarette smoke and drunk children. In short, it sucked. Thus, I naturally opted for my best bitchy attitude and wore it for the rest of the time there.
frank (while groping and kissing on his 12 year old boyfriend): cb, you don’t look like you are having any fun.
cb: Gosh frank- why ever would you say that?
frank: C’mon– there are some cute guys here.
cb: Hmmm, yes. Cute. In that “Hey, I just got hair down there” sort of way. Plus they are all straight.
frank: cb, just enjoy it. Its a fun scene!
cb: Frank, this is so completely not my scene. In fact, I don’t think you could have found a scene that was more ANTI my scene than this scene. Next time how about we crash a dance party of naked, lesbian pygmy cannibals. Atleast then I’d have death to look forward to.
frank: So, you’re ready to go then?
(cb gives frank his best ‘withering’ look)
Needless to say, I didn’t join Frank & Co for the post club, late night eats.
NICE. That reminds me of the night D3vin Matthew and I met up at this place here formerly known as Badlands (Sadlands). It’s now called Apex (GaySex, GayPex, ApeSex)….
The music actually damaged my ears for three days due to the levels their horrible excuse for a DJ decided to use that night. I wish places like that could be sued for hearing damage.
But yes…the scene was pretty much the same. There was a drag show there interspersed between moments of DJ music.
Good……gawd……I mean I love drag shows but NOT THERE. And the mean age of said crowd had to be 17.5.
That is too funny, but definitely better you than me.