Getting ready for the Black Party is always fun: the shopping for something suitably slutty or "heavy," the grooming, and then the pre-Party parties. Lots of gays come to the city for the weekend, so there's a strange quality in the air. I thought of getting a new outfit, but one gets so hot and sweaty that most of it will end up checked or lost. I went with my old standby, leather chaps, and a mesh jock for easy access. As if.
Everybody I knew there took E, but I thought it would be amusing and helpful to take Viagra, which had come in very handy at my first Black Party. I had little need for it this time, as no one would touch me. I felt too skinny, too fat, too old, and overdressed in those chaps. It was nice to have a ready bulge all morning, but by 6:00, eyes throbbing and fingers swollen, I regretted it.
Further thoughts:
- Why were the creative DJs sequestered in the balcony while the thud-thud zombies got the main stage? I'm so over crystal meth dance music.
- Is there any way we can get a one-night suspension of the blue law prohibiting the sale of alcohol after 4:00 am?
- Did anything sensational happen after 7:30? Because not much did before.
- Did I miss the fabulous outfits? Everyone was either in jeans, jocks, or less. And harnesses of course. Easy on the eyes, but hardly fabulous.
- Must a dark room be pitch black? I prefer to see protuberances before they start poking at me, not that this was an issue.
Anyway, see you next year.