This year was my first year celebrating New Year’s Eve outside of California. OK, outside California and Las Vegas. After a *fortunate* series of events, everything started pushing me out of San Francisco in a serendipitous kind of way and I ended up moving to Seattle a couple months ahead of schedule on December 28, 2012. To this end, I would be celebrating the holiday in my new town and state, and I was pumped.
I ended up making plans with another friend whom also was a San Franciscan (born and raised) that had moved to Seattle. Turns out her fiance, her brother, and some of their friends were going to hit up Capital Hill in town and dance the night away into the New Year. Sounded way fun. I really didn’t know what Capital Hill was all about and quickly discovered that it’s basically the Castro of Seattle. Castro in SF is the gay district. Super pink. Super sparkly. Super fun!
That night we ended up meeting my friends (very briefly, they had gone to a rooftop party with stiff drinks before to see the fireworks so we sort of lost them after 15 minutes) at Neighbours. As expected, the place was packed to the roof with man sweat haze, glittery speedos, and lots of dirty dancing. I had been living, breathing, and dancing in San Francisco for the past several years so I was acutely aware that sending my boyfriend up to get drinks would not only get us served faster, but with a discount (AKA cheaper than straight females without local gay friends at least). Now, my boyfriend is a pretty flashy dresser. I have to admit, he has swagger when he gets all dressed up and I’m not embarrassed of his wardrobe choices. Not bad, honey, not bad. Of course this meant he was going to get hit on by some gay men.
As soon as we walked up to the bar, a flock of boys surrounded him and started flattering him with compliments. I just smiled and laughed and thought it was amazing. Kyle did too. No qualms. Then all of a sudden it started getting more “serious.” 😉 We just giggled, the boys looked at me, and then *lightbulb* realized that Kyle was actually straight. For some reason one of them called him a “GAYCIST.” It was delivered in a joking kind of way, but I kind of wondered what the hell it meant because he certainly wasn’t a homophobe coming into a gay club voluntarily (or just one at all). We just laughed it off with the group of boys…but I was still left scratching my head a little. What does gaycist even mean? Did he mean “straight”, “annoyed that I’m around gay men hitting on me”, WTF does that mean in this context??? LOL. Later on I asked a few friends and sometimes gays just don’t like straight men in their clubs just like some other homophobic men get weirded out by gay people in their bar. Ok, I can vibe with that. I guess I just never ran into it in San Francisco because my own group of friends were always so excepting of each other’s differences. I gather they are in Seattle too, so I’m not stating anything otherwise, just telling a new experience. 🙂 Good times.
Anyways, after all that and dancing more for a few hours we met the coolest transvestite chica at the other side of the room right before the bar was shutting down for last call (damn west coast laws). Her name was Reverend Roxy Doll and she helped us get served out last drinks, we talked for a while, and she told us about how Q-Club was going to be running for even later with some great House Music. My boyfriend is a House DJ and loves it (as do I) so we left Neighbours to then go check out their scene. When we got to Q-Club, everyone there was dancing, the music was AWESOME, and Kyle and I (that’s my boyfriend) started having our own little dance-off (as we do many times).
So that was my New Year’s Evening in Seattle! The End! NOT. 😉 C’mon now…this is Jennergy you’re talking about. After all that we did actually go home to take a “nap” though. When we got up early on New Year’s Day, we poured some Jameson and rocks, sipped it down, then headed to Breakfast Club at Electric Tea Garden. Breakfast Club is no Breakfast of Champions like in SF, but it’s a rad little get together of House enthusiasts and local DJs. There I felt “right at home.” I met some pretty interesting and cool characters as one might expect from and after-after party, including a guy named Night Train in a robe. That was his outfit, a robe. I have to point this out because, to me, it’s normal. I mean, in SF everyday is Halloween. But some people might not be as desensitized as me, so there it is. I also met a very normal guy named Fred. But you’ll have to read about him in the next entry.
We danced the morning away, didn’t eat whatever buffet spread they had, and then went merrily home and finally got some “decent” sleep.