Much as I enjoy the drag shows at the homey hangout Boots & Saddle (76-Christopher Street), going there is something of a horror film for those who don’t particularly want rodents with their lipsynchs.
I have to think three times before going to that stretch of land because of the rat infestation nearby, which probably erupts because of some sewer on the block, I’d imagine. (Unless a rival clubowner is funneling them over for a laugh.)
Just feet away from the entrance, large, fearless rats are generally scurrying around–and I’m not talking about the clientele!
These are oversized, furry, black vermin that sometimes look as big as cats, and the sight of them will turn the most strutting macho gay into a screaming ninny, racing to the other side of the street for (alleged) safety.
Since I’m already a screaming ninny, I turn into a total woman! (Not a huge transformation, I’ll admit, but still, it’s rather startling.)
Recently, I ran so far–all the way to another bar–that I had to send back a friend with my bike keys to eventually unlock my vehicle outside B&S.
Interestingly, the bar’s owner is on a crusade against neighborhood violence. I hope he’s out to get the rats too. Not to club them over the head and turn them into chow mein–just to send them back underground, so the gay underground scene can stay above ground. Got that?