Packing

A friend talked me into going to Berlin for Easter. I'll fly the Atlantic for any excuse nowadays, so it took little persuasion. It's fascinating how different cultures honor the Resurrection in their own way, and the Berliners' approach, I can appreciate.

The hardest part of a trip to a big fetish event is the packing. Whatever else one might say about such occasions, there is no question costume changes are a huge part of it. Mix the rarity, for some of us, of opportunities to wear our gear with the naturally queeny inclination not to be seen in the same outfit twice, and voilà: overstuffed suitcase. Leather is heavy, especially the boots, and if you want to avoid heavy luggage fees from the airline, some editorial selection is necessary.

I don't fly until Tuesday night, but as I'll be busy with work Monday night, I started packing already. I've been at it for an hour, and not a single item has made it to a suitcase yet. First I arrayed all the gear on my bed: tops, bottoms, accessories. Then I put away the impulse buys I never wear but still like to look at. I check the event calendar and ask, will I need more than two outfits of latex? Should they be street legal? Will I have an occasion to wear this neoprene singlet, and if I do should I bring my wrestling shoes, which I would not otherwise wear? Will three pairs of leather slacks be enough, or too much?

And then there's cotton. For some reason no matter what I pack for, I always bring two or three times more t-shirts than I need. This time it should be easier, because my favorites are from Berlin, but I have this rule about not wearing bar or shop t-shirts in the city where I bought them, because then it's not special, so I have a smaller selection to tempt me.

As important as the fetish gear is, having comfortable clothing is also key, for daytime tourism. Translation: bring a lot of jeans and top layers. Doing this reminds that I've more or less given up on mainstream stylishness, except for work, and it's a little depressing. On the other hand, t-shirts and jeans are a timeless look for a reason.

I'd better get back to it. I haven't even determined if a trip to the laundromat will be necessary this weekend. Sigh.

IML?

I've made plans to attend International Mr. Leather in Chicago once again this year, but I'm thinking of skipping it to save money. I have a feeling if I go I'll have an okay time but wonder why I've chosen to spend Memorial Day Weekend holed up in a crowded hotel in downtown Chicago. If I don't, I'll probably wish I were there, but at least I'll be $1200-$1500 richer. (It's not possible for me to do it any cheaper, not with the constant temptation of the vendor market.)

Why is it these days everything I do requires a decision about spending money? It was easier to justify expenses like this when it only meant going deeper into debt, but now that I'm flush, it's about ending 2011 with $x in the bank or $x-1200 in the bank. What would Suzie Orman do?

Release

I wrote to the organizers of Leather Pride Night, coming up in June, to ask about volunteering. They responded by sending me a model release form. It is expected that volunteers will also model the items up for auction. I didn't know this, and believe me, there's some stuff up for bid that's way more provocative than anything I'd normally wear. I was hoping just to set up some tables and chairs and shit.

Black out

I attended the Black Party last weekend, and I did it sober, like a chump. See, I don't care for circuit parties, but I always forget this when March rolls around and the Black Party is all my friends talk about.

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.

Euro trashy

Friends of mine planning a European vacation invited me to tag along. This would give me the chance to attend Folsom Europe and spend some time in Berlin, which I have wanted to do but would never be brave enough to attempt on my own. It would also fit nicely with organizing all my vacations and travel this year around leather-themed events. This decision simplified travel planning immensely: as soon as I got back from MAL in January, I booked flights and hotels for IML in Chicago and Dore Alley in San Francisco.