So let's just get this right out of the way: Did we just attend the best party of the year? Already? The year is barely a month old -- but last night's opening of Alegria at Crobar, does it get any better than that?

Anticipation. Like the Carly Simon song, and the Heinz ketchup commercial. Having to wait, and wait. The protracted orgasm. Crobar New York has been at least two years in the making. All of us in this town have followed the rumors and the dirt and the gossip and the drama and--

We wanted our first taste to be with Abel, and Alegria -- so we waited another month after Crobar's opening in December.

And all day yesterday, and all last week, we were anticipating. And all that worry and sturm und drang about snow and Abel's dual engagements this weekend, on the Left Coast and here in Gotham, and the snow kept falling, and we kept running to the windows to watch the snow fall, giddy from anticipation, and -- and yet we knew. We knew he'd make it. We knew the party would go on.
 
We got there just before five a.m. No line, but the security guards say, "You ready for the bad news, guys? No coat check. Full-up." We're in full parka/leather mode, scarves, hats and hoodies. Great just great. We'll have to ditch our coats and hope....

But guess what, the fool at the door is wrong. Coat check is fine. And doesn't that make us feel good. Yet another hump behind us. Jupiter in retrograde, merry prankster.

So now we're walking into the club down the long, deep stairs and listening for Abel. Is that him? Is that his beat? He made it, right? Through the maze lounge, weaving through its giant floor-to- ceiling pick-up sticks, and then through the tiled cylindrical tunnel, with sand-blasted lights shining up from our feet -- and then, there we are, in the Big Room of Crobar, and it's BIG, like an airplane hangar with the same kind of height and a constellation of mirror balls, in varying sizes, some so large that just one would serve a club anywhere outside of New York, and all the mirror balls are encased in silver-latticed globes, with the continents in black, and the center mirror ball with its ALEGRIA cinching its midsection and up in the far corner overlooking the whole huge room is Abel and he has the crowd moving, it's a veritable circus, and so crowded, with such diversity, a Kitty Meow manque in leopard and Diana Ross extensions, and everyone is moving, Abel making it letmehaveitable.

We make our way to the stairs and climb, above the packed floor. The staircase is a marvel with deep steps and brilliant sightlines, something akin to Level in South Beach, except brand-new and modified for crowd flow. In fact, the club has some of the best elements from clubs gone by. The entrance tunnel evocative of the entrance to Palladium, and alcoves like the ones at Exit, and so much leather seating and banquettes, and glass partitions and even the bar/re along the dance floor has a little rim for clutching as you're doing your barre work. So many thoughtful details in this club. Love that.

And Abel is grinding it out. Bless his heart, he got here, all the way from San Francisco where he put it out for them too, and now, he's really working. What is that thing he does? It's impossible to refuse. You don't refuse Abel. He boars into your head and then your soul and you're powerless. You have to move. How much fun it is to watch the boys get the groove. You see it happening. Watch the way it starts, sometimes slow, a twitch, a wiggle, and then, before long, it's full-tilt.

Someone asks Robert, "Is that your boyfriend? You might keep your eye on him. He's having too much fun."

It's impossible to resist. The boys grooving to Abel's beat. Then Abel's playing Supernature -- a song about a genetically modified species, with superpowers enough to change the course of the world. It's impossible to resist -- that's why we're here.

Around and around the Big Room. High above the floor. There are four circular boxes atop of which fall fabric columns -- which then rise to reveal four go-go boys in Druid attire. Rams' horns and face masks. Gold lame.

And the lights are blue and mauve and silver and white. The twilight hour. The gloaming. The change from day to night. And there are porn stars and porn stars with their girlfriends and a Miami Beach Elvira from Scarface and there are dancers so good you can only shake your head and smile. God, how Abel gets them moving. They can't stop; they don't want to.

It goes on and on. We move around the floor, work it out in different quadrants. We find our perfect spot: above the floor, just barely, along a railing, with perfect sightlines of the crowd, the go-go boys, and best of all, Abel.

A man with beret and a silver fan spelling out ALEGRIA. A boy with his back sequinned: ABEL. Laser spots and smart lights.

And all the while, that backbeat. The throbbing intensity of Abel going on and on. He won't quit; he doesn't want to, and none of us could be happier.

What a party. What an amazing group of people. What incredible energy. There's so much beauty in the room. Such a spectrum of beauty. So many people in town, from all over. We kept hearing German and Italian, and English accents. All these people convening in New York for Abel at the opening of Alegria at Crobar.

Was it the party of the year? It doesn't matter. It was so good that it bodes well for the rest of the year. It bodes well for New York and the circuit and people who love to dance and those for whom music is the only true religion.

Oh, yeah. What a party. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Ric Sena and everyone at the Alegria organization for giving us what we want and what we need.

We left at eleven a.m. -- which was early, and the floor was still packed. But it was so great to leave with Abel still going full out and the boys still so happy. It's what we wanted to take with us.

Thanks to everyone who made this party so wild and wonderful, the thirty-ring circus. I couldn't have asked for a better birthday weekend.