Friday, February 29, 2008

Pop (Sort Of) Rocks

Pop Rocks is a Thursday night party in the city. I started going years ago when it first began and the likes of Britney and Justin were the hottest music on the charts. The disposable pop crap was always the best part of the club. The crowd was always very young and I never liked feeling like the oldest person there. But I stopped going because they never had any paper towels in the bathroom. I am not a classy person but while I am not too old to dance to a hot mix of Britney Spears singing "Don't Let Me Be The Last To Know", I am too old to dry my hands on toilet paper. The last appearance I made at Pop Rocks was with the Barbera Twins in 2004 when they were in town to do our radio show and promote their calendar. Where are they now?

Flash forward to last Friday and my friend Josh was throwing a going away party for himself. Since winning Mr. Gay USA by default, he is moving to Los Angeles to take a new job. I guess he figured life in NYC had taken him as far as he was going to go. As I mentioned in the past, Josh and I met in 2001 when I briefly tried my hand as a party promoter when I tried to launch a club night two weeks after 9/11. It was a huge mistake but meeting Josh wasn't. At his going away party, I met Mark, a cute massage therapist who also works the door at Pop Rocks. Since I am on this kick to try new things and meet new people, I thought I would kill two birds with one stone and drag Hottie Zach and my roommate Mike down to Pop Rocks for another attempt at fun.

As it turns out, last night was a Dolly Parton listening party for her new album "Backwoods Barbie." We had tickets to see her at Radio City Music Hall next week but her boobs threw her back out and now it has been rescheduled for May. In the meantime, I have heard nothing but good things about her album so I thought it was a fair bit of kismet that this was the fated night to make a triumphant return to Pop Rocks. I also tried to invite Ben Harvey at the last minute but he was out with sexy Dave Rubin who "frowned when he heard Pop Rocks." Not even Dolly could woo him to join us, and as Romaine and I have learned, when you do a show with someone you turn quickly into an old married couple and it is virtually impossible to split up once you have travelled down the road so far together.

Zach got there first and still being new to the city, he was wary of being alone in the club. I arrived and immediately ran into Mark outside at the door. But it was freezing outside and while on the train down to Union Square, Zach had sent a panicked "I'm scared" message so I knew I needed to hurry inside. Once there, we enjoyed a couple of $1 drinks in the crowded melee as well as some fun pop tunes. I heard some vague strains of something that sounded like Dolly while in line for coat check, but aside from a mix of "9 to 5" an hour later, that was as far as the listening party went. Mike joined a little while later and he and Zach got nice and drunk while I stayed sober to drive Mike home later.

The good news of the night was that I was far from the oldest person there. A few guys looked like they had escaped from a nursing home, so that was comforting. Plus, the bathroom had hand dryers so I didn't need to use toilet paper to dry my hands this time. Then again, the hand dryer was about as powerful as waving your hands in the air like you just don't care, but it was better than it used to be. I also had some time to chat with Mark downstairs under a heat lamp while he alternated eating a sandwich and passing out flyers for 1984.

By 12:30, Zach was ready to go home, and that left Mike and I with plenty of time to make the 1:00am train and get home in time to watch the new episode of Lost (which was surprisingly good, by the way). Unfortunately both of my organized military guys had lost their coat check tickets in their drunkenness, leaving them forced to plead their cases to the super bitchy coat check girl who didn't know the meaning of the word helpful, let alone how to mime it. In the past, Zach has had a tough relationship with coat check people and last night was no exception. Mike was the voice of reason but unfortunately, coat check lady was so slow we ended up missing our window to take the 1:00am train.

While they were fighting with the coat check bitch, I spotted once again a woman who looked like she had escaped, quite unglamorously, from a Soviet work camp. She had toilet paper trailing out from under one of her chunky clogs so I pointed it out to her. Instead of discreetly removing it, she lifted her foot and loudly proclaimed it to her other female friend and her adorable blond fag. The homo who had eyed me earlier in the evening, used this as an opening to start a conversation. He complimented me for rescuing a stranger from embarrassment as he ran his hand along my plaid shirt. He asked me where I was tonight and when I said I was at work he asked, "At an Abercrombie photo shoot?" I smiled politely and said no as I put my coat on. Then he said, "Where are you going? An Abercrombie photo shoot?" This is what is known as a textbook case of blind drunk, with the emphasis on the blind. But I gave him my card anyway and made out with him a bit. It was a terrible line and even though I am as old as Mount Washington, I am only human. There are a lot of sides to this square.

On our way out, I said good bye to Mark at the door and then Mike and I parted company with Zach. Since we had some time to kill, I entreated Mike to come to Taco Bell with me. Mike has sworn off fast food all year and being the horrible influence that I am, I got him off the wagon. Once there, I discovered something new on the menu (though still containing all nine of the usual ingredients). They now have something called a "Fiesta Platter" which is just the perfect thing for me to bring to the Long Kiss Good Night featuring Hillary and Barack at Jonathan's on Tuesday night. The platter with the Grilled Stuft Burrito was almost too much food for one person but I still ate the whole thing while sitting in our usual late night spot at Grand Central Station. I had a good time at Pop Rocks, but the innocent days of Britney and Justin are long behind us all. I may not be collecting social security with Danny Glover and flattering attention from blond strangers is always appealing, but I do think I am getting too old for this shit.

1 comment:

chellie said...

be careful! strangers have cooties that are WAY WORSE than no paper towels in the bathroom.