Well. That was a party. That was certainly a party. Who knew we could turn it out so well on a Friday night? Who knew the whispering on the streets had become such a deafening roar? My God, we walked into mayhem -- and it was just after eleven. There was a line out in front. A very happy line of boys waiting to get in. Already smiling. So that was a clue. And then inside, where we turn the corner past the velvet curtain -- and there he is: JOON-YAH.

The place was bumping and it wasn't even midnight. Packed with boys and the lights nicely dim and flashing dark and peace signs dangling from the ceiling and Junior is on a roll, already. He's doing the bounce thing, a speedy kind of bounce and he's got the crowd working. They're already in full throwdown mode -- and we haven't even peaked.

We weren't expecting this. I was hedging my bets, thinking that if things didn't work out we could always do a late dinner. Ha. Well, dinner wasn't in the picture last night. No dinner: it was all about the party.

This is not a big club. It's more like the club you might rent for your anniversary party. Your birthday. And that's how it felt: like everyone had something to celebrate. Junior especially. Why was he so on? He loves his New York family. And they? They were all there for him.

And almost every ten minutes, there's a cheer going up, his name shouted out. He was rolling something fierce. Maybe we might have forgotten how good he can be when he's good. We hadn't heard him since New Year's Day (at the dearly-departed second Sound Factory -- Rest In Peace). Four months ago. In the interim it's been all about Abel. But to hear Junior again. God, he loves what he does when he's doing it right. He was moving in the booth. The tambourine in hand. Shaking it for the masses.

And that family of his. It's way more diverse than our circuit crowd. More diverse than our Alegria boys. It's a family of all sizes and shapes. A tribe of many species. We're not just one breed. One size fits all? No, no, no. We're the boys who dress and the boys who hustle and the porn boys and the fashionista girls and the track suit boys and the banjee boys and the boys from the street and the Queer Eye boys and the Dolce Gabbana boys and boys of many colors, so many beautiful shades of skin and the dark-eyebrowed boys and the Vick 7 boy and the steroid boys and the large boys and the skinny boys -- and we're all there celebrating Junior's latest incarnation.

He is just working it out. Oh, he's got something there. It's like he knows that we know it's been a hard year and who can read the headlines and who wants to listen to the news and the only thing to do is dance. He's making sure we dance. He's making us move. He's doing things with his music which move it from a speedy bounce which seems like a combination of New York adrenaline and spring fever into something deeper. Confident giddiness. Buoyant moodiness.

And there's not a lick of bad attitude. The floor is packed. Way too packed. And at one point the fire marshall is escorted through the club. "Excuse me, gentlemen. Make way, gentlemen." And we're thinking, Uh, oh; here comes the boom. But then he's gone. Paid in full, apparently, and on the party goes, and on goes Junior, more empowered than ever.

Not a lick of bad attitude, in spite of the crowding. It's too many people for the club, like the anniversary party you had and invited too many for the little space you rented. And people are bumping into each other, but almost always it's with a smile and a shrug.
Who can be bothered about bumping when the music's this good? There are smiles everywhere. It's a very happy family. What's happening here? A convergence of Junior in the house again with the release from winter and spring in the air and summer straight ahead. All the best to come and we're enjoying it right now.

Sexy happy people and two are doing it in the bathroom. There's a twosome behind the men's room door, where the door makes a secret room in front of two urinals and they're full on into it and the short one says, "Stop looking at him and keep fucking me." And then, "So where do you live?"
 
Hotty boys having fun. On the stage and in the lounge where it's more like a stage set for the ones who want to walk and kiki and vamp along the walkway between the banquettes. Werk it off, children. Junior's making you move.

He was good. Strange World and Cyndi and Who Do You Love and ask the Jenkins' girls about the rest. Set list forthcoming, no doubt (though not from us).

At one point, Robert says, "They're really letting loose, like it's a one-time thing and not a weekly party." It's true that Junior's opening nights are pretty fabulous affairs. That opening of Earth at Exit two years ago? God, what a party. And last night, it was that kind of intense in a space less than a quarter of Exit's size -- but the enthusiasm was comparable. Junior's family loves him right back.

And when we left at four a.m. Junior was shaking that tambourine. Still making it happen, girl knows how to do it right.

Big thanks and big love to all those who made it so much fun for all.