Whoa, what a week. First of all, contrary to rumors, the Gestapo
never showed. Or maybe it just seemed that way, relative to our
experiences here in Gotham.
We got into Montreal on Thursday evening and checked into our swell
hotel, Hotel St. Paul, on 355 McGill, which we would heartily
recommend to anyone interested in a beautiful Beaux-Arts building
redone in a style to suit the modern world's way of life. Check out
the website (www.hotelstpaul.com) Our room was spacious and
streamlined and the bed was exemplary, which proved to be key for a
week like this. There's a lovely restaurant on the ground floor
called Cube, and a bar-lounge called BarCru, and the atmosphere in
all the public areas was very Ian Schrager/Royalton/Delano/YouKnow.
It worked for us, the entire five nights.
Hotel St.Paul was a refuge from some of the seedier aspects of
Montreal. As Ed Childs said, the town is a bit run-down, and in
constant disarray due to construction/renovation, and St.
CatherineEst is particularly iffy in places, though not threatening
if you happen to be an inhabitant of New York.
We headed to the Gouverneur and picked up our passes. The Welcome
Center was not nearly as social as the welcome centers in South
Beach where you can count on cocktails and music and boys scouting,
but it was well-run and our passes were handed over with smiles.
Smiles. That's what this town has in spades. In all our years of
traveling, I don't think we have ever encountered such a plethora of
friendly people. Not once in our five days there did we experience
any of the nastiness which can punctuate the checkout lines here in
Manhattan. Not once. Nothing but smiles. These people are happy,
even if the weather is cold. Maybe it's because they have to sleep
with another person so often, body to body, to keep warm, and maybe
that makes them warmer overall. Whatever, it works for us.
JOCK BALL/STEREO
So we headed over to Stereo for the Jock Ball. Hmmm. Talk about need
of renovation. The club was closer to a YMCA, or maybe a high school
gymnasium. Well, whatever. We fixated on the smiles. But here's an
odd thing. We get through security, and then, not ten feet away, on
the stairs leading to the floor, are three boys selling whatever we
needed/wanted. And later, we see the very security people who patted
us down chatting up the dealers. Well, how cooperative it all
seemed.
Anyway, we dance for a while and it's a kind of low-energy evening,
in some ways, but there is this one BBCM dancer who totally gets the
groove and he's on a box and he works for us and he gets us in
shape. It's good to have a leader.
We leave around 4 a.m. and try to find papers on the way home,
amidst all the detritus which litters the streets the further west
we walk on St. Catherine. Yes, very much like the old Times Square
around here... Phone call to Disney?
FRIDAY:
We walk the river, our one venture away from GayVille. We walk
Sherbrooke Street, which Ed Childs might have liked because it was a
plus more upscale. Holt Renfrew the department store which is kind
of like Louis in Boston or Wilkes in SF. The Ritz-Carlton and McGill
University. Very British, in a way. Lovely to see. We stopped and
sent flowers to our hotel room so the concierge we adored would be
impressed and think we were really rock stars.
LEATHER BALL/MEDLEY:
We're not exactly leather boys, but just the same, we wanted to hear
Escape. He's such a sweetheart. His joy so infectious. His smile so
contagious. Who could resist? And yes, he did play Dark Beats about
six times or maybe a hundred, but it reminded me of the way Larry
Levan used to play things over and over at the Garage (not that I
ever heard him live, just hearsay, you know.......)
We got there just in time for the show which was done to Bohemian
Rhapsody and it was kind of intense weird and perfect for this
strangely wonderful club called Medley. Think of a fur trappers'
lodge crossed with an Elks Club with maybe an Oddfellow thrown in.
Lots of wood and a balcony which circled the floor and a dark wood
painted ceiling and creaky staircases and the usual body painters
and boot lackeys and spit polishing and such. And all of it done
with good humor and lightness. It wasn't a dark party. These people
were all dressed in leather, but I wouldn't have been surprised to
hear them trading recipes.
At one point, there was this huge Alien-like creature wheeled into
the center of the floor and it was on this kind of hydraulic pump
which kept this apparition undulating up and down and back and forth
and all in this black cloud of materials and horns and pipes and
strangeness which was finally stripped off to reveal a sort of
acrobat who swung around. It got me. I couldn't keep my eyes off
whatever it was.
And Escape worked for us. He was fun to watch, and he made the night
fun, and we didn't leave the place until after five a.m.
SATURDAY:
We wandered Gay Ville like good gays. We patronized the clothes
stores and the restaurants. This section of St. Catherine Est is
nicer, natch, than the section directly to the west. All the boys
were out, everyone shopping and jabbering. The energy was nice, a
sense of anticipation in the air.
MILITARY BALL/METROPOLIS:
As Ed Childs said, it's a big club, and also in need of a bit of
freshening up. Think of Level in South Beach. A big theatre,
stripped of its balcony seats. It also reminded us of the Roman
Senate. We overheard a boy on his cell on the way upstairs,
screaming into the phone, probably to his sleeping boyfriend, "It's
only the biggest party of the year."
And it was. It was THE PARTY of the week. The next night was THE
EVENT, but this was THE PARTY. It reminded us of Manny playing at
Level two years ago for Winter Party. The boys were there for him,
but we loved Gilles as much. The floor was packed, everyone
shirtless, and sweating. So sweaty. The floor was slippery with
sweat. You could slide on the sweat. It was deliriously wet. It was
futile to resist. There was so much going on. Upstairs, the
balconies were packed, ring after ring of boys. Downstairs, hardly
an inch to move, least of all on the floor. Manny played to them
all, and they loved every bit of it.
Narcotic Thrust, or maybe just the lead singer, came on and sang
Safe From Harm and, predictably, everyone sang along. Well, why not?
It was the song of the week, you could tell already, and the subtext
is all about being there for each other, blah blah, so it fit with
the Humanity theme, and it worked. So why not sing along?
We loved this party, mostly because of its intensity. The energy was
overwhelming, no holding back EXCEPT from overdosing. It was a wild
crowd, but one without fall-outs/overdoses. Everyone was happy.
Those smiles. And though the floor was packed, shoulders and elbows
weren't jammed into your back.
THE MAIN EVENT/BLACK AND BLUE:
Okay, so we've never really liked stadium events. So we had minimal
expectations, thinking that maybe the dance floor would be concrete
or else too vast or the sound dreadful or no sense of community
fostered.
Wrong. We were so wrong. We took the Metro around 12:15 a.m.,
because our adorable concierge said it was the best thing to do, and
good thing. The metro takes you right into the stadium, and there
were droves of people there. But the VIP line moved quickly, and the
coat check was relatively easy, and then security, which was much
less invasive than at Exit, and then, a long dimly lit blue hall and
then down a staircase and there, across the stadium, like a carnival
rolled into town for the night, there it was: Black and Blue.
Like a midway, with massage parlors and concession stands and
souvenir stands and energy drinks and bars and bleachers all around,
in a six-sided ring, and a stage in the center, and a track
overhead, the likes of which looked as it if would support a subway,
and a stage at the front, and the VIP area right behind the deejay,
and it was Tracy still playing, and we sat in the bleachers, at the
top, and just tried to soak it all in.
The dance floor was packed, glow sticks bobbing and God, there was
so much going on. Where to look, what to do, what to see?
And then, right at 1:30, this big platform starts moving through the
crowd and there are these war-torn dancers on platforms and high
above the floor, and there's the Red Queen on the platform moving
slowly toward the center, singing, "I Want You to Get It Together"
and all the screens around the floor are showing the world's
peoples, all kinds of people, and then the Buddha comes across the
ceiling, on the subway track, in a huge cage, and he's just sitting
there, and the Red Queen is waiting for him and the war-torn dancers
are writhing and the place, the whole place, is going fucking crazy.
I mean, crazy. It was so intense, so wild, and maybe I was just
tweaking, but I don't think so.
It went on for twenty minutes. This one production number, it was
like a twenty-minute orgasm, and when it was finally finished, the
two of us looked at each other like, What the fuck. My God. So now
we knew. So now we knew what the night was going to be like.
And it was. We were there until ten a.m. This is unheard of for us.
We never stay more than four or maybe five hours. Eight hours? Nine
hours? No way. But we couldn't tear ourselves away from the music.
And it was just as Josh had said: so much new music and just what we
wanted/needed because, for me, I don't want to dance to what I've
danced to before. I want to feel something new within me, and let
that newness take me away.
Those production numbers, they just kept coming. Angels in white,
angels above the floor, one, then two, then another two, all of them
about eighty feet high and then the sun rising from the floor. And
then realizing that the angels were moons.
And then we were in the VIP area and Escape was there and so of
course, chat chat chat. Love you, love you, blah blah. And there was
so much food, if you wanted. And Paulette was sexy dominatrix in
black leather and her beat worked me over. And also Superchumbo, and
Irresistible was definitely the song. And then Mark Anthony and he
was ear to the boards and mix mix mix.
And the whole time, the floor stayed packed. We danced atop the
bleachers, fixated on the pulsing organism which was the crowd. God,
what incredible energy.
And again, we saw no people in distress. And all the people we
talked to were so friendly, so happy. So many straight people, just
happy to be there, dancing. And it wasn't about being gay, or
straight, it was just about being together for the night, and
celebrating our commonalities, and not freaking about our
differences.
It was a joy.
MONDAY/RECOVERY:
Yeah, it took a while to determine whether or not we needed/wanted
to go to this party. Again, at Metropolis, did we really need to do
it? After the highs of the night/day before?
But, of course, we went. Dutiful circuit queens. Yet again. Back on
the street, into the club. Yeah, we're here again. And it was fine.
Maybe even good. It was good to see how the energy had changed from
two nights before. How the crowd had come down a bit. How we were
all in the same boat. How much fun the week had been, and how it was
now about learning to let it go.
So we danced to James Anderson, and he got a groove working, and
Suzanne did the Show Me thing, which kept that song in our minds,
all the way home yesterday.
WRAP-UP:
Montreal has wonderful energy. It's a town without hustle, which, as
New Yorkers, we could appreciate. How pleasant to be in a place
where everyone wasn't working you over. How nice to see so many
farm-fresh boys, smiling and happy.
I can't say we ate the best food, but sometimes it was enough just
to be surrounded by such pleasant people. And whenever we said we
were from New York, there was such empathy for what had happened
here last year, and their compassion was so genuine that it was
almost painful. "Oh, New York," one cabbie said. "A terrible thing
happened there last year."
Yes, we know. But this week was about celebrating our humanity and
all the things that bond us to other human beings.
BBCM did an exemplary job at making us aware of all the good that
exists in the world -- and how you can still find reasons to dance.
Loved it. Anyone who goes again will too.
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