Metro Weekly


Guerilla Queer Bar DC Takeover, SundayMASS returns to Five, Green Lantern

Queer boys and girls for a straight bar…
Sunday Mass sets a date for its return…
A helping hand at the Lantern…

Can you imagine some of your favorite gay bars frequented by straights? Perish the thought, you say with a shudder, those people have their own bars. But what of that scant thimble-full of gays who insist that all bars be as gay as gay can be? What of them? Just who are these takeover artists, you ask? Officially they’re known as the Guerilla Queer Bar DC Takeover, but Hearsay wonders aloud if they’re not just a bunch of drunks looking for that one last drink. Here’s how it works. Each month the group plots a takeover for one night of a different straight bar. Why just this past Friday, Amy "A Is For Type-A" Mulry, Karl "Queer Beer" Jones and Chris "Fox" Trott took over Nick’s Riverside Grille, a bar across from the "fancy-shmancy Georgetown Loews movie theatre," as the organizers mapped it. Actually, a better reference point is the restaurant Sequoia, since it was just around the bland fountain in the bland Washington Harbor Waterfront donut. There, on the bar’s outdoor patio, a hundred or so queers sweltered in that evening’s nighttime August humidity and breathed in the boat exhaust. Wouldn’t it be swell to have an outdoor gay bar such as this? “Yes, yes!” Kevin "Big Green" Corbett responded, as though on his third faked orgasm of the evening. (No, no, Hearsay coughed back.) “If only it were closer to the ‘hood, and with a better view of town,” Robert "Push Out" Pullen mused. “Oh geez, you’re never satisfied,” replied his partner, Ron "Sing It" Whitney.

This is how straight it was: The hundred or so gathered gays were overheard chatting about the Olympics and the beauty of the Olympian male form (some even talked of the Olympian female form, but they were tied to a nearby cross and burned alive). The hottest Olympic topic: almost-hometown hero Michael "Wanna Fondle My Medals?" Phelps and the make-you-melt meaty Romanian gymnasts, who are actually all of two feet tall, just like Ewoks without hair (well, being Romanian’s they were shorn for the horse pommelling occasion). Oddly, the TVs at the bar were all tuned to — not the Olympics, but football. Football? Hearsay didn’t even know football was played in the summer. A straight tipster told Hearsay that the football game was actually a tape loop of “That great play of ’89, when Joe Namath hit a home run.” The little college-aged tipster — who was wearing a pink shirt, a sweater wrapped around his midriff, and claimed his girlfriend’s name was Muffy — went off snickering to his friends. But Hearsay had the last snicker. It followed the boy into the bathroom and promptly shoved a cucumber up his butt. (Hearsay carries around all manner of tubular vegetables for just such an emergency.) Most of the straights passed by Nick’s Riverside Grille and marched right over to the neighboring Tony & Joe’s, a place where real men gather and talk about things like beer, football and babes. Apparently the hets don’t want to hang with the homos. Which just means organizer Mulry and co. have their work cut out for them in planning the first hetero takeover of a gay bar. But she’s up for the challenge: she says it should happen by year’s end (and she’s aiming for a popular bar on 17th Street she says), although nothing is set as of yet. Until then, the best way to stay in the guerilla loop is to check out its megillah atÂ…

Time now to issue hosannas and hallelujahs: behold, the second coming of DC nightlife’s holiest party — and naturally with that attitude, also its most devilishly sacrilegious. After its highly publicized hiatus launched exactly two months ago, SundayMASS DC‘s moment of silence to reflect on the sins of illegal substance use has now ended. Amen. MASS will return Labor Day Sunday, September 5, when it will open its doors yet again at its favorite house of worship, Club Five. And as before, everyone is welcome to take communion at this Church of St. Soileau — as in resident DJ and co-founder Blaine “Texan Toast” Soileau. But there have been some changes, church rector Stephen "Giddy Up" Weber reports, the most obvious of which is a more reasonable time to commune. The party now starts at 8 a.m. and lasts until 2 p.m. That accommodates what Weber says was the vast majority of congregants who forwent their Saturday bar-hopping to be fresh and ready for "Sunday School." Weber wouldn’t reveal many of the other changes. "We certainly have other surprises in store, but sharing all of them would only lessen their surprise impact, right?" Right. But he did say that Soileau’s and his original partners in sacrament, Shawn "O" Bannon and Tony "U" Winthrop will come down from their new home in Massachusetts for the Labor Day "resurrection," among other unexpected guests. Oh yeah, and Weber said there would be de-facto lesson plans on the dangers of drugs. If Hearsay may, it would like to offer then your first Sunday School lesson right here: Gina has no rhythm, Tina ain’t your friend. It’s Vodka — only Vodka — that remains pure and true to the end. Forever. And ever. Ah, men. BurpÂ…

And finally, Hearsay’s Good Samaritan of the Week Award goes to Greg “Mama Rose” Zehnacker, owner of the Green Lantern. Last weekend, a pretty young waif visiting from Wyoming entered the bar with a mildly unsavory sort. The waif, though intensely inebriated, resisted the unsavory sort’s advances, though the unsavory sort reportedly took the boy’s pocket money, leaving him bereft of funds and lost as a stray little lamb. Enter the gentlemanly and benevolent Sir Greg, who escorted the boy back to the nearby youth hostel. The next morning, Greg arrived back at the bar to find a note of thanks taped to the door, along with a $20 bill. Those


Temptation at Apex, NGLTF Pool Party, Halo

An incredibly tempting teatime at Apex..
A pool party with fun but without sun…
Halo’s smoke-free environs…

Here’s an interesting question oddly put: How many times in one weekend can a queen go to the Apex of her crown? Well, manager JoeyO is doing his duty to get you into his at least once, maybe twice, and possibly three times (if you happen to be liquid, lady). Hearsay took JoeyO on the offer twice this past weekend. Friday night’s Main Event was as thrilling as ever, a night when DJ Randy “All Nite” White made everyone feel like a dancing queen. Hearsay did the rounds first visiting Dave “Man Enough For Me” Linn, who was on video patrol. Meanwhile, on karaoke control, Gladys “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?” Kravitz stood proud and let the patrons sing loud (and sometimes even on key). And on pornstar watch, who else — really who else in this town? — but Tag “You’re It” Adams. Hearsay also saw John "I’m Not Running for President" Anderson, kicking up his steel cha-cha heels. Then, after a long Friday night, Hearsay decided to sleep in Saturday, only to be revived on Sunday by JoeyO’s highly caffeinated dance event, Temptation Tea. Hearsay’s first sip of this hopefully regular event (rumor is that it will be held monthly) was positively delicious. One extra-special touch: the event marked JoeyO’s "coming out" as a club DJ. He spun happy hits right there on the balcony, next to the dance floor, so all to see his adorable mug. A second extra-special touch: being greeted by Kelly "Hollier" Collier, wearing a tux. And what tea party would be complete without a little sugar from hostess Lena “How’s This for Advice?” Lett. In a word: tea-rrific!…

Well, it wasn’t quite "the hottest pool party in Washington," as the ad promised, unless you’re not referring to the temperature. A few Sundays ago the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force tasked itself to put on a pool party at the Washington Plaza Hotel, but it apparently left the sun at its Los Angeles headquarters. It did bring a little bit of fun, however. And for a good cause, raising money for the Task Force’s tireless quest to bring truth, liberty and justice for all to the homosexual world, not to mention fabulous cutaway boxer-briefs. Heat was provided by the patrons who took the plunge and arrived half-naked (well, it was a pool party, after all). Hearsay glad-handed Brad "Team Crew Club" Taylor  and Miles "Nationally Certified" Branch, who, like everybody else at the event, massaged  his liver, rubbing it down with pastel-colored drinks like the bright blue Hypnotiq on the rocks that also turned out to be Eric "Takes a Lickin’ And Keeps on Tickin’ Muhl‘s rocket fuel of choice.

But won’t anybody eat something? A waitress was there, ready and willing to dole out classic cuisine. She waited alright. Waited and waited and waited for someone — anyone — to order chicken wings or beef balls or tuna eyes. Hearsay tried to round up some patrons for the pretty waitron. Say, Michael "If You’re Happy and You Know It" Snowdon, wouldn’t you like to order some halibut tail? No? Really? Okay, how ’bout you Sean "Daddy" Eagler, won’t you have some pig parts? No? Okay, how about some deer rear for your partner, beatmaker heatshaker Rob "Shakin’ Tail Feather" Harris, DC’s most prolific DJ. Try it, Rob, it tastes just like chickenÂ…

Hearsay needs to clear the air about something. No, not that — you’ll never get Hearsay to tell about the time it witnessed firsthand a certain gay politico nearly ass-phyxiating everyone in a crowded politico elevator. Hearsay can keep a secret. Just ask anyone. But the air Hearsay needs to clear is of the smoky variety. As everyone knows, cigarettes are the work of the devil. And they’re the ultimate gateway drug to the gay way, too, promoting an oral fixation that can only be resolved by putting dirty, filthy things in your mouth never intended by God to be used for said purpose. But Hearsay was stunned to learn that Halo on P Street decided only one night after opening to go “smoke free.” This is no longer news, of course, but Hearsay has space to fill, so it might as well rant about the fact that it’s not allowed to smoke in a new swanky bar that seems perfect for lighting up and inhaling all manner of toxins into one’s lungs. Hearsay tried to sneak one in, to see if anyone would notice. They noticed. It’s amazing how much smoke one tiny little innocent cancer stick can produce. Within moments, Hearsay was (politely) shown the front door, outside which stood two makeshift ashtrays — buckets with sand, really — where Hearsay huddled with the similarly addicted puffing away. (The good news is, Hearsay and the other nic-fitters didn’t have to wait in line to get back in, an official Halo smoker-friendly policy.) With its lungs sated and its butt stamped out, Hearsay went back in for a drink and located bartender Brad "Sub" Urban, who was more than happy to comply. Brad informed Hearsay that he had just moved back from a half-year stint in New York — and hated it there. Couldn’t wait to get back to Washington. So naturally Hearsay ordered a round of Big Apple Shots to celebrate. Halo’s opening a few weeks ago had been billed as "soft," but then promoters Ed "Gillette Foamy" Bailey and John "Edge Gel" Guggenmos reconsidered, on account that no self-respecting gay man wants anything soft. So they opened their long space, and opened it wide. So wide that Jeff "Here’s To You" Robinson fell in. As did his friend Brett "First Time Ever I Saw Your Face" Mannes. As well as several other curious nightlife regulars. The best thing about getting to report Halo’s opening — at least Hearsay isn’t reporting another gay bar closing (not that Hearsay misses Mr. P’s in the least)Â…

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