Metro Weekly


Paying homage to Mid-Atlantic Leather Weekend, Hearsay finds itself a masterÂ…

Diving headfirst into the Deep EndÂ…

Hearsay’s first official sighting of a leatherman came last Thursday, January 16, at the intersection of 14th and L Streets, at exactly 8:23 p.m. The poor, lost darling, bags in tow, was clearly seeking a nearby hotel catering that weekend to leather. Hearsay, dressed in its best early evening lycra, approached the leatherman, asked him for a cigarette, asked him for another cigarette, and then asked him if he wanted company. When he declined, Hearsay helpfully pointed him in the direction of the Washington Monument, claming it to be the weekend’s host hotel ("Make sure you go all the way up to the top — that’s where the party is). Its first evil deed of the Centaur MC’s annual Mid-Atlantic Leather Weekend under its 100% hemp belt, Hearsay plunged into the weekend with abandon, starting with the unofficial second annual Emergency Cocktail Broadcast Network Drinkers’ Awards at Titan, where the men not only wear leather, they happily chow down it as well at Hamburger Mary’s, where ground cow is pressed into a patty and served between a bun with Glenn "My Porn Collection is Without Peer" Mlaker‘s "special sauce." Hearsay was too busy drinking itself into a stupor to take notice of who won such clever awards as "Best Cocktail Incoherent Babble" and "Best Cocktail Uncontrolled Outburst," but it’s sure that the winners more-than-earned their little silver puke buckets. Hearsay spent Friday night bouncing between the packed Titan, the Green Lantern, and the venerable D.C. Eagle, successfully copping more leather feels than it did at Chicago‘s Great Steer & Bull Convention of 1923. (Whoopsie-daisy, Hearsay is showing its true age.) Hearsay later spent hours on end in the real host hotel, The Washington Plaza, a magnet for all things leather, leather-bound, and just plain bound (a quick stroll through the Leather Marketplace offers proof enough). Hearsay spoke to one visiting Leatherman who invited Hearsay back to his room for a little wine. Hearsay whined when it turned out that the fermented grapes were to be administered via an opening where there be no tastebuds. Hearsay recovered in time for Saturday night’s Leather Cocktails, held at Nation, and boasting a buffet fit for Deities of all Persuasions. Hearsay enjoyed the annual Parade of Colors, in which the various clubs assemble onstage with their colors aloft (there’s more to leather than basic black — just ask Frank "Red, White ‘n Blue Piping" Nowicki). The parade is followed by the Centaurs’ annual aromatherapy demonstration, at which each member of the club lights a candle as the entire room covers their eyes, Yentl-style, and joins in a moving rendition of "Sunrise, Sunset" from the musical Fiddler on the Roof (this is followed by the well-known ditty, "If I Were Your Bitch, Man"). Fiddler, by the way, is a treasured favorite among ALL leathermen, except for the Spartans, who, it is widely known, prefer Hello, Dolly, SigMa, who swear by Little Shop of Horrors, and the DC Boys of Leather, who adore Oliver! After cocktails, it was off to Apex for the Return the Beat Around dance, where Hearsay, which had misinterpreted the dance’s name, showed up with few gallons of borscht. Luckily, Hearsay’s friend with the two-gallon enema bag showed up as well. The only dilemma: how to administer the sour creamÂ…

The next day — and on Leather Weekend night slides into day without missing a beat, returned around or not — Hearsay attended the annual Mr. MAL 2003 Contest at Nation. This year’s contest featured a lit runway built originally for a Playboy magazine party, and a New Yorkish skyscraper set that veritably screamed Liza with an L. The Centaurs, ably led by Leather Weekend coordinator Danny "Mac" Linden, snagged two big names as their entertainment this year: Celeda and Byron Stingily, both of whom gave performances that knocked the fringe off Hearsay’s revealing chaps (purchased, Hearsay hastens to add, at the leather store to beat all leather stores, The Leather Rack). It was a fierce contest, with the title of Mr. Mal 2003 going to an ecstatic Alvin "And the Chipmunks" York, of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, which is about as far away from the Mid-Atlantic region as you can get, but really, who’s looking that closely at geographical region? The crowd bid a gracious farewell to David Baldwin, of the somewhat more Mid-Atlantic relevant Baltimore, who served his 2002 term with the kind of eloquence and good-natured feistiness one expects from a leather title-holder. This year’s Bootblack title — which requires its entrants to shine boots to a spit-polish for hours on end — was nabbed  by Christo of Indianapolis, who will return home and open a Leather Day Spa called, not uncoincidentally, Christo’s of Indianapolis, where every room will feature a big bag of wine and a pre-greased tube — as well as complimentary bag of cashewsÂ…

Hearsay spent last Wednesday, January 15, at the Deep End’s second anniversary party. Two years strong, this is the Wednesday night dance party to beat, held at the Connecticut Avenue haunt, Andalu, and presided over by DJ Mandrill the Magnificent, who, when he’s not spinning the most kicking disks imaginable, performs tricks with fluttering, agitated doves, linking rings, and color changing scarves. Drill, as he’s known to friends and foes alike, kept the evening charged with a flashback to The Children’s Hour circa 1981. (The Children’s Hour was an annual event held at the long-gone Clubhouse.) Hearsay had such a good time, it plans to jump into the Deep End a little more often in 2003. And that’s not just a New Year’s resolution, that’s a promiseÂ…

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