I hate snow. With a passion
That said, it was a lovely weekend.
Tim and I enjoyed an early Valentine's Day on Friday night, as he has to work on the day itself. I'm not a big proponent of Hallmark-inspired holidays, but I do like any excuse for an expression of sentiment. I don't need excuses to buy Tim flowers or take him to dinner; I do that regularly, but it's always nice to have another reason to do it again. I picked up a card that featured a beefcake image of a 50's guy in a posing strap in the desert on a buckboard wagon and scrawled a mash note inside. I bought a miniscule amount of chocolates and cookies, as Tim has just engaged a trainer again, and I didn't want to mess with his work out. I picked up a large bunch of exotic pink tulips, his favorite, from the florist. No street tulips for Tim. I arrived and discovered he'd basically done the same for me, minus the flowers. Ignoring the fact that I'm still fat from Christmas, he gave me a box of Li-lac chocolate covered cherries. Ignoring the fact that I'm still fat from Christmas, I ate a lot of them. Dammit. He also put out a very lovely cheese plate. Nothing says I love you like a rank wedge of moldy cheese, right? Hell, it works for me.
Tim had to work on Saturday afternoon, so I took the opportunity to hit the gym. I've never been to the gym on a Saturday before, and it was packed. I managed to squeeze in a decent workout, and got home in time to meet him. I'd been watching the Weather Channel, consoling myself with the posted project snowfall amounts of the coming storm...maybe 3 inches Saturday night and another 3 on Sunday. Tim napped, I read. It was very cozy. When he got up, we had a couple of Manhattans and experimented with the Koss Pro4AA headphones he'd gotten me for Christmas. Combined with the Nikko amp he'd given me last year, I now possess state of the art audio equipment, circa 1982. I mean this in the most positive sense. I think the bass response alone can act as a defibrilator. Good thing my neighbors love me. Or maybe they're not home.
We headed out into the light snow flurries to grab a quick dinner at Jones', thinking it would be as empty as the streets we were walking through. Clearly people were taking the coming storm seriously. No one was out! However, the restaurant was packed. After a couple of beers, we realized we wouldn't be able to wait around much longer, left and picked up a couple of hotdogs at Gray's Papaya. As we munched, I made the obligatory weenie-breath joke. I think we manage to have a hotdog dinner every couple of years under similar circumstances. See, it's not just Martinis and Manchego for us.
The snow was really starting to come down as we walked around the corner to Pieces, the first stop on the scheduled Blarg Hop. Of course Joe
were already there. This was not our first time at Pieces. Tim and I have visited on occasion. We have no compunctions about walking into any gay bar in our path, suitable or otherwise. Pieces is what I'd imagine an a gay bar in the mid-west to be like. And not a very good one. However, it was a suitable venue for a basic meet and greet. We got to shake hands and learn a few names before it was time to move on.
At the Stonewall, we were put off by the $10.00 cover charge. No wonder those bars are all closing. Who the hell would pay that to go there. We turned heel and headed to the upstairs bar of the Duplex, a tiny room now crowded to the rafters with bloggers. We got our drinks from the poor overwhelmed bartender and proceeded to flirt shamelessly with a most attractive blogger across the room.
Soon it was time to move on to the Monster, where the more reasonable cover charge was deemed acceptable. Some of us headed for the piano bar area. Some of us made a bee-line for the bathroom. After attaining drinks, a bunch of us headed downstairs to the disco. Feeling that this we had to experience everything, we danced to a few dreadful numbers with Joe and Aaron and others. The reflection of my middle-aged body flailing in the mirrors surrounding the dance floor was enough to make me stop soon enough. Plus the fact that I was spilling bourbon all over my hands.
Next stop, BSNY, or Boots & Saddles, or Bras & Girdles, as it has been known on the street for years. What was once a seedy and appalling dive is now, thanks to a renovation that makes it resemble a lobby in a lesser Holiday Inn, an even sadder seedy and appalling bar. Here I got to shake hands with Eric
, but due to the crush, exchanged not a word. Next time.
The snow was really coming down as we headed to Ty's. Apparently, I was in the advance guard. Arriving before the crowd, I told the handsome bartender, Gary, that 30 of my friends would be joining me in the next few minutes. He didn't believe me. Then he did. Ty's, tiny to begin with, was overwhelmed with bloggers. Gary fixed me two of the strongest drinks I've ever had. If I kissed you, made you kiss someone else, or just generally made a fool of myself I apologize. Unless you enjoyed it. In which case, let's do it again next week.
I had to get off the Blarg Hop at that very moment. The little voice in my head that takes care of me told me it was time to go home. And I listened. As usual, once home, I got too comfortable on my sofa and so was awakened hours later by lightening illuminating the snow drifts outside my windows. I crawled into bed with Tim and woke up a couple of hours later. We both blew off the gym. Tim headed to work and I headed back to the sofa.
I walked across town at 5:00 PM. The streets were empty of people, totally silent, and completely blanketed with the new snow. I worked up a decent sweat climbing the drifts as I walked from Second Avenue over to the Hudson River. It was actually beautiful. I knew within hours it would look like hell, and it did.
There were maybe 15 people in the Dugout when I got there. A few tourists and us die-hard regulars. More die-hards continued to show up in the next couple of hours, making for a low key family night.
The blogger I'd flirted with shamelessly at the Duplex arrived and we got acquainted, enjoying each other's company quite a bit, I'd say. Tim announced last call a little before 9:00 PM and we closed the bar. We found a lucky cab after trudging through a couple of blocks of snow, bade good-night to said blogger and headed home.
In bed by 10:30, fast asleep by 11:00. Perfect ending to a lovely weekend.