Westgay Still Rules As The Best Gay Party
I had another great, bust-up time at Westgay last night.
That's the Frankie Sharp-hosted gay night at the wonderfully sleazy old strip club Westway, down by the river.
In the main room, JonJon Battles DJ'd--the word "Westgay" lit up in neon in front of the booth--and a light-studded runway centered the room, sexy gogo boys working it as if in a male version of Gypsy. They really radiate sex, from the Hispanic guy with tattoos and glasses to the one with a butt so pert it looks like dumplings.
On the outskirts of the runaway, cuties danced, writhed, mingled, and gave attitude. It was a heady mix of young hipsters, occasional apocalyptic drag queens, and one straight couple who seemed to have read the wrong guidebook.
After a while, the side room opened, with even more concentrated amounts of atmosphere, and then I found a third room, which is yet smaller, hazier, and more ambient (the bear DJ giving it some extra sass). A few people were openly smoking, and much as I hate going home smelling like Marlboros, it was refreshing to find a place where no one's watching your every move.
I felt like maybe other things could happen too (but they don't! Don't worry, authorities.)
"This is great. It's like a British club," noted a friend.
Yeah, but without British people.
Just kidding. Everyone's welcome--as long as they're too cool for school.
Photos by Santiago Felipe
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