Awkward in a Strange City II

Awkers, I come to you once again having tasted the streets of a strange city. Twas actually last weekend, but I've been too burnt out and frazzled to put fingers to keys until now.

There were two occasions for the visit. One to visit my dear friend who may or may not be the awkward female equivalent of myself. Two to go to my gender activist acquaintence's drag / genderfuck / gender terrorism warehouse night. And I suppose I did have a third motive of avoiding a boy that has been sweating me (so sue me).

On the bus ride there, an 80 or so year old woman sat next to me for the majority. That's all fine and well except I was texting people about the drag night and gay bars and other dregs of society as she read over my shoulder and scowled disapprovingly. I mean lady, you're on a greyhound bus! Get over it! When I wasn't next to Grandma Hate, I was next to Greaseball Bro who was on his way from Florida (Hell on Earth). Direct quote:

"What are you listening to guy?"
-The Presets. 2 Australian guys doing kinda dark dancey stuff.
"Are the words in Australian?"
-...No. ...English.
"Oh, right, American version."

So despite my brush with humanity, I arrived (physically) unscathed. Equally Awkward Girl and I got our drink on and our dress on and our makeup on in preparation for the drag night. The theme was technodrome and I kind of went all out, complete with huge lensless sunglasses made to look like goggles.

Between her house and the warehouse we stopped off at a bar to visit Equally Awkward Girl's sister. I stuck out like a sore thumb in my makeup and attire but no one seemed to mention anything. Her sister actually said, "Oh, I just thought that was your new look."

By the time we actually arrived at the warehouse, that familiar haze had set in. I realized I had taken my look a little farther than most of the people there, but not quite as far as the performers - a middle ground that I was satisfied straddling. Everyone was O.O.C. in the best way possible. I drank vodka soda out of a plastic bottle. Lights flashed. Music pumped. Bodies writhed. Sweat dripped. Equally Awkward Girl peed in the parking lot in front of basically everyone.

At some point we decided it would be a good idea to go to Coke Bro's house for afterbar (excellent decision). The resulting mayhem was a rager dance party that lasted into the wee hours. Doing blow through a vietnamese hundred dollar bill off of an antique mirror while ELO blasts on a record player really makes you feel alive.

The next morning (afternoon) I walked around a bit to get some local flavor. Got heckled by some porch sitters ("Why don't you buy some tighter jeans?!"). Did some window shopping. Did some shopping shopping (black silk skinny tie!). Then Eq Awk Girl got off work and ready for night two (via leftover vodka soda).

It's possible that we may have taken the pre-drinking a little too far. The fog was settling in as we arrived at a bonfire / yard beer scavanger hunt. As things got more sloppy, we decided it would be a good idea to take a cab to the gay bars (excellent decision). Here are the flashes:

-Platform danced with a 400lb woman and a leather bear.
-Drank a very large and very unnecessary shot of peppermint schnapps.
-Got intensely hit on by Fat Plaid Door Guy.
-Jumped on a bed... in the middle of a bar.
-May or may not have entered a secret porn bar through the men's bathroom.

I woke up shiverring violently, lying on the pool table in the basement of the party we had started out at.

-Awk.like.no.one.is.watching.

Overlapping Reentry Stamps

...all over my hands. The sign of a hungover Friday at work. Actually, I'm not hungover per se, more like stale. Last night was all kinds of fucked up.

Started at goth bar with Goth Internet Creepster and his fag hag for her birthday. The place was all pale skin and level zero blonde and hip bones and cold stares and drawn in eyebrows and fat girls in lowtop chucks. Goth Internet Creepster had me handing out flyers for his night. I gave them exclusively to boys I wanted to make out with and girls with good bangs.

You know when girls are forced to dress really professionally for work so when they get a chance to go out they take their style just a little bit too far? I have coined that slightly "off" look Girls' Night Out Syndrome. The worst offender (sufferer?) of the Syndrome I've seen in a long time trapped me in a corner and tried to hit on me. I pulled the "Sorry, I'm gay" escape. Really, what I wanted to say was, "Sorry, I'm gay. But even if I were straight, your accessories are ugly."

Goth Fag Hag got SPECTACULARLY drunk, perhaps due to a questionable drink handed to her by Slimey European DJ Guy (who is married by the way). She ended up puking in the bathroom with a stranger holding back her lone black braid. STRANGER DANGER! Maybe that's why she was dragged out by security moments later. And maybe that's why Goth Internet Creepster almost got in a fight with another Girls' Night Out Syndrome sufferer. And maybe that's why my goth club experience was cut short once again.

One awkward cab ride later and I was back at my usual late night bar. Things were in full swing and I had some catching up to do. Alt Thai Lesbian was already making out with Good Bangs Electro DJ Girl (who is married by the way). Tiny Promoter Lesbian was already falling over drunk. Dreadlocked Promoter Lesbian was already LIT UP. Doppleganger Boy was already giving deadly stares to the boys "beneath" him (maybe we have more in common than looks).

And catch up I did.

There's an unexplained, uneaten mini pizza in my fridge.

-Girls'.awk.Nite.Out

P.S. This happened a couple weeks ago, but it's practically the quote of the century. [in the bathroom of late night bar, a redhead girl approaches me while I'm at the urinal] "You look like the kind of boy that wants to get raped by a redheaded girl!"