Saturday, October 16, 2004
Today: Wind causes me to think about homos in VA.
It's beautiful outside, when I look out my window. It’s the perfect sort of day to work on my tan and such, when I look outside.
Of course, as you may have guessed, it's too windy once you actually get outside. And, incase you've never experienced laying out on a beach when it's windy, let me provide an easy 6-step experiment for you:
1. Get a bucket of sand and a fan.
2. Stand directly in front of the fan so that your face is nearly up against the guard.
3. Turn the fan on 'High'
4. Smile and squint like the sun is in your face.
5. Using your hand, grab some sand and let go of it behind the fan.
6. Enjoy and congratulations. That feeling of sand pummeling your face and getting all over you is EXACTLY what it's like to try and lay out when it's windy at the beach!
Now, go pick the sand out of your teeth, you’re grossing me out.
In the mean time, it's high time we move on to the real topic of this blog.
Because I’m bored right now (because I can’t go out and tan) and on the suggestion of my friend Paul, I'm going to write about the cultural differences between New York and Virginia. But, since I'm a homo, I figure the easiest one for me will be the difference in gay culture, and furthermore, since I like going out, my super-specific subject matter of the day is going to be: the differences in bar/club culture between NYC and VA Beach/Hampton Roads/Norfolk.
Well, go get things rolling, tonight, I have plans to go out to this club called 'The Wave' in Norfolk, VA. It's an interesting slice of VA gay life. Like every gay bar outside of a major metropolitan area like New York, The Wave has two main distinctive features that are different for me. First is that it's in the most ghetto section of town, and second, it uses black lights as its primary 'mood' lighting.
Both of these present a problem for me, because, being a New Yorker, I'm accustomed to 1) Gay bars that are easy to get to and 2) Wearing black to them.
These are the main things I noticed when I first started going to bars outside of NY.
The music in this particular bar/club, which is typical for gay bars in this area, though not necessarily common for all bars outside of major metro areas, is terrible. It's, like, all old house mixes that should have stayed in the 90's where they so desperately belong. There is little to NO hip-hop and none of the wonderful new re-mixes that I get to hear in NY. I don't think these people have ever heard of Junior Vasquez--and if they have, these people down here don't know what's good for them. (After all, this state DOES vote republican most of the time...so...)
As for clientele, the bar is pretty average. There are some hot people, some not-so hot people and a lot of not-so-human as homo-clone people. Because there are so many military installations here, however, there are a lot of DL military boys, which is kind of fun in that man-out-of-uniform-who-usually-wears-a-uniform way. *SHRUG* I mean, they have short hair, but other than that, they’re just homos with a different job than most of us.
Along that same line, though, there are a lot of underage kids out, too. There just aren’t enough homos here to warrant their exclusion. Quite a few of them are extra flaming, though, and remind me of a small posse of Heavenites wherever I go out here: loud, queeny and oddly dressed.
Of course, the dress is very different, because people generally tend NOT to wear the NY uniform: Jeans and a black t-shirt. Such an ensemble in the aforementioned black-light would produce a glowing lint-display that is reminiscent of an episode of Mr. Wizard’s World and would hardly be appropriate when one is trying to turn people on. Instead, the people at The Wave, as well as other such black-lit bars, tend to wear shiny, metallic shirts or brightly colored t-shirts with silly lettering on them. I have some of such articles (not the metallic variety, however, thank god), so that’s what I brought down with me to club in (knowing from my last adventure in VA that that’s what I have to wear if I want not to be the human lint museum on the dance floor).
The dancing style here is VERY different than in New York, because there is this interesting thing down here that makes the conditions of dancing very different: space. This can be a positive or a negative, though, because some people are extremely wild dancers down here and with the alcohol that they drink, it just becomes worse. I’ve got the bruises to prove it. It’s far worse than anything I ever get to experience in NY, though I’m sure it would happen if people had the space to be like that. On the positive side, however, the space allows you to dance up to boys you think are cute easier (though it allows trollish individuals that same courtesy—the good with the bad, I guess.)
Sadly, because of the lack of public transportation to and from these ghetto areas in VA, someone’s always got to be the DD, which sucks. But this also means that there are always sober people in the bar, another downer.
There is also smoke in bars here, which is so alien to me at this point, though it’s only been a year since NY adopted the ‘no smoking in *anywhere*’ policy. I’ve forgotten how to dodge burning cigarettes and forgotten that I have to wash everything I wear to bars instantly or risk having that foul, foul stench on them forever.
Club life down here is certainly not without its advantages, though. The weather is warmer here, generally, so people tend to wear less clothing, which is fun. They tend to be warmer than New Yorkers, too. Boys down here are much easier to talk to, if you can hear them over the horrible music. The drinks are much cheaper here, of course—always a good way to make me love somewhere. The bar tenders are nicer to me here than NY bartenders, who can be extremely standoffish unless you’re shoving money down their pants.
They also all serve food here. Liquor licenses in VA stipulate that to serve hard alcohol, you must have a full kitchen and menu. Though most of the menus consist of lots of ways to fry crap, it’s nice to know that if I’ve got beer munchies, I can just go and grab some food at the counter, though it certainly means a bigger mess for the poor bar staff to clean up at closing time.
Strange stuff:
Drag shows down here are like strip shows. The person performing gets money thrown at her throughout her performance—and sometimes gets fondled by the person giving the dough. Weird!
People will come up to you and ask the strangest questions in order to pretend they’re not actually hitting on you. Right, because you were just making eyes at me across the bar and now have come over to me, I’m really supposed to expect that the reason you’re over here is to find out what kind of jeans I have on?—Not that you could see them under this lighting to begin with. People do this in New York, too, but they usually are a little more sly about it.
People know the words to the terrible 90’s house crap. Okay, not so strange, it’s all they listen to, but I can’t give up the fact that the music is really crappy.
I’ve been asked if I’m in the military more than a dozen times since I’ve been down here. Of course, as I’ve said before, there are a lot of military installations, but my hair is SO not in regulation. It’s about 2 inches too long, at least, in the front and about an inch too long in the back and on the sides, which should be completely obvious to anyone who knows anything about the military. I guess it’s the same kind of question you’d get in college, the ‘what’s your major’ question. *shrug*
Okay, that’s it. I’m going to get spruced up for the evening.
It's beautiful outside, when I look out my window. It’s the perfect sort of day to work on my tan and such, when I look outside.
Of course, as you may have guessed, it's too windy once you actually get outside. And, incase you've never experienced laying out on a beach when it's windy, let me provide an easy 6-step experiment for you:
1. Get a bucket of sand and a fan.
2. Stand directly in front of the fan so that your face is nearly up against the guard.
3. Turn the fan on 'High'
4. Smile and squint like the sun is in your face.
5. Using your hand, grab some sand and let go of it behind the fan.
6. Enjoy and congratulations. That feeling of sand pummeling your face and getting all over you is EXACTLY what it's like to try and lay out when it's windy at the beach!
Now, go pick the sand out of your teeth, you’re grossing me out.
In the mean time, it's high time we move on to the real topic of this blog.
Because I’m bored right now (because I can’t go out and tan) and on the suggestion of my friend Paul, I'm going to write about the cultural differences between New York and Virginia. But, since I'm a homo, I figure the easiest one for me will be the difference in gay culture, and furthermore, since I like going out, my super-specific subject matter of the day is going to be: the differences in bar/club culture between NYC and VA Beach/Hampton Roads/Norfolk.
Well, go get things rolling, tonight, I have plans to go out to this club called 'The Wave' in Norfolk, VA. It's an interesting slice of VA gay life. Like every gay bar outside of a major metropolitan area like New York, The Wave has two main distinctive features that are different for me. First is that it's in the most ghetto section of town, and second, it uses black lights as its primary 'mood' lighting.
Both of these present a problem for me, because, being a New Yorker, I'm accustomed to 1) Gay bars that are easy to get to and 2) Wearing black to them.
These are the main things I noticed when I first started going to bars outside of NY.
The music in this particular bar/club, which is typical for gay bars in this area, though not necessarily common for all bars outside of major metro areas, is terrible. It's, like, all old house mixes that should have stayed in the 90's where they so desperately belong. There is little to NO hip-hop and none of the wonderful new re-mixes that I get to hear in NY. I don't think these people have ever heard of Junior Vasquez--and if they have, these people down here don't know what's good for them. (After all, this state DOES vote republican most of the time...so...)
As for clientele, the bar is pretty average. There are some hot people, some not-so hot people and a lot of not-so-human as homo-clone people. Because there are so many military installations here, however, there are a lot of DL military boys, which is kind of fun in that man-out-of-uniform-who-usually-wears-a-uniform way. *SHRUG* I mean, they have short hair, but other than that, they’re just homos with a different job than most of us.
Along that same line, though, there are a lot of underage kids out, too. There just aren’t enough homos here to warrant their exclusion. Quite a few of them are extra flaming, though, and remind me of a small posse of Heavenites wherever I go out here: loud, queeny and oddly dressed.
Of course, the dress is very different, because people generally tend NOT to wear the NY uniform: Jeans and a black t-shirt. Such an ensemble in the aforementioned black-light would produce a glowing lint-display that is reminiscent of an episode of Mr. Wizard’s World and would hardly be appropriate when one is trying to turn people on. Instead, the people at The Wave, as well as other such black-lit bars, tend to wear shiny, metallic shirts or brightly colored t-shirts with silly lettering on them. I have some of such articles (not the metallic variety, however, thank god), so that’s what I brought down with me to club in (knowing from my last adventure in VA that that’s what I have to wear if I want not to be the human lint museum on the dance floor).
The dancing style here is VERY different than in New York, because there is this interesting thing down here that makes the conditions of dancing very different: space. This can be a positive or a negative, though, because some people are extremely wild dancers down here and with the alcohol that they drink, it just becomes worse. I’ve got the bruises to prove it. It’s far worse than anything I ever get to experience in NY, though I’m sure it would happen if people had the space to be like that. On the positive side, however, the space allows you to dance up to boys you think are cute easier (though it allows trollish individuals that same courtesy—the good with the bad, I guess.)
Sadly, because of the lack of public transportation to and from these ghetto areas in VA, someone’s always got to be the DD, which sucks. But this also means that there are always sober people in the bar, another downer.
There is also smoke in bars here, which is so alien to me at this point, though it’s only been a year since NY adopted the ‘no smoking in *anywhere*’ policy. I’ve forgotten how to dodge burning cigarettes and forgotten that I have to wash everything I wear to bars instantly or risk having that foul, foul stench on them forever.
Club life down here is certainly not without its advantages, though. The weather is warmer here, generally, so people tend to wear less clothing, which is fun. They tend to be warmer than New Yorkers, too. Boys down here are much easier to talk to, if you can hear them over the horrible music. The drinks are much cheaper here, of course—always a good way to make me love somewhere. The bar tenders are nicer to me here than NY bartenders, who can be extremely standoffish unless you’re shoving money down their pants.
They also all serve food here. Liquor licenses in VA stipulate that to serve hard alcohol, you must have a full kitchen and menu. Though most of the menus consist of lots of ways to fry crap, it’s nice to know that if I’ve got beer munchies, I can just go and grab some food at the counter, though it certainly means a bigger mess for the poor bar staff to clean up at closing time.
Strange stuff:
Drag shows down here are like strip shows. The person performing gets money thrown at her throughout her performance—and sometimes gets fondled by the person giving the dough. Weird!
People will come up to you and ask the strangest questions in order to pretend they’re not actually hitting on you. Right, because you were just making eyes at me across the bar and now have come over to me, I’m really supposed to expect that the reason you’re over here is to find out what kind of jeans I have on?—Not that you could see them under this lighting to begin with. People do this in New York, too, but they usually are a little more sly about it.
People know the words to the terrible 90’s house crap. Okay, not so strange, it’s all they listen to, but I can’t give up the fact that the music is really crappy.
I’ve been asked if I’m in the military more than a dozen times since I’ve been down here. Of course, as I’ve said before, there are a lot of military installations, but my hair is SO not in regulation. It’s about 2 inches too long, at least, in the front and about an inch too long in the back and on the sides, which should be completely obvious to anyone who knows anything about the military. I guess it’s the same kind of question you’d get in college, the ‘what’s your major’ question. *shrug*
Okay, that’s it. I’m going to get spruced up for the evening.
