| rev:text
| - I wrote this on my blog on May 4th 2007 - this is part 2 of the entry - see my review of BS West for the first bit...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The following night, I was hanging out with my married friend Steve. We met up with a couple friends of mine at this British pub in Phoenix. The night was going well and since we were on that side of town, I suggested going to Burn since I had heard it was the hot shit place to be. I texted a few people to try and make it a group thing - the replies I got were "Burn? That place is GAY!" - I naturally assumed they meant that it sucked, but since I hadn't been there I figured I might as well check it out in spite of the snobby review.
One of the people in my party even agreed with my text saying - 'yeah, I heard that place was pretty gay.' Again, I wasn't interested in hearing the nay-sayers say 'nay'. I'm not going to form opinions on something like this without first hand experience... I'll decide how gay (lame) it is on my own, thanks. In spite of this, I got us all to agree to mosey over to Burn to check it out since none of us had been there.
The couple we were with arrived first and told us they went to the bar next door instead because Burn had a cover. Steve and I met them for a drink and then decided we wanted to go next door to check out Burn anyway since we had come this far. At least we were going to see what the cover would be...
We walk in the doorway and Steve goes - "dang, this place is pretty gay..." to which I inquired if he didn't just want to leave. Before I could finish my question, he said - "eh, let's just check it out anyway." As he says this I cast my gaze inside the club for the first time to see go-go dancers on platforms... and I'm talking about buff shirtless and hairless dudes in tighty whiteys, cowboy boots and cowboy hats. Apparently, when my friends were saying "that place is gay" - they meant homosexual... Saturday night is gay night. I am dumb.
Before I could say "let's just get the fuck out of here," Steve had paid for both our covers and was making a bee-line for the bathroom (what the fuck is it with making a bee-line for a bathroom in a gay bar? That's the last place I'd want to be)... I followed him with a hasteful step and stopped outside the bathroom door and planted my back firmly against a wall - again trying to avoid surprise attack anal rapes on my virgin bottom.
I take this moment to myself to scan the room and the people in it - mostly dudes... it looked like my gym - everyone was buff and chiseled and model-like. People seemed to indiscriminantly smack each other on the butts or grab each other in the crotch as they walked by. After about a minute of this, I text Steve saying "Fuck this." He calls back to tell me he's out on the front patio. I don't know how he fucking snuck past me, but I met up with him outside.
We both agreed that the gay people at this joint were way more intense than any collective of gay people we had seen before. Even the lesbians were intense. Everyone looked both attractive and tough as fuck. We both kinda felt a sense of danger - we thought we were at risk of getting beat up for being straight. Perhaps this is how isolated gay guys feel in a straight world. Steve went off to get us drinks and I caught eyes with some straight girls who motioned me over to their table. After a talk and a drink, Steve and I split.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We discussed the fact that while we weren't the best looking guys in that place by any stretch - we would probably do well in there if we wanted to hook up with a guy. Somehow we manage to always include this concept in our conversations - how many people we could get to 'do us' if we wanted.
There were crossdressers at this place too. I was under the assumption that crossdressing doesn't amount to gay necessarily... I mean, if you're gay - why would you want someone that looked like the opposite sex? I suppose I don't quite understand the concepts or the mechanics fully. Perhaps it's just because there's no good tranny bars in the valley.
After leaving Burn, we were headed to another bar and walking down the street when from a block behind us we heard faint cat calls. We muttered to each other not to turn around and to ignore it. Again we heard them and this time we were sure they were directed at us. "Hay boyz... wanna taste my meat" or something of that nature. Finally we got brave and turned around to discover it was my friend Ryan whom we thought had left already. I think we both were fearing some sort of brutal reverse gay bashing.... "Phoenix: where the gays bash you."
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)
![[cxml]](/fct/images/cxml_doc.png)
![[csv]](/fct/images/csv_doc.png)
![[text]](/fct/images/ntriples_doc.png)
![[turtle]](/fct/images/n3turtle_doc.png)
![[ld+json]](/fct/images/jsonld_doc.png)
![[rdf+json]](/fct/images/json_doc.png)
![[rdf+xml]](/fct/images/xml_doc.png)
![[atom+xml]](/fct/images/atom_doc.png)
![[html]](/fct/images/html_doc.png)