Danny Linden's erotic encounter with an Etch-A-Sketch…
Frank Nowicki's personal parking spot…
They don't call ‘em chaps for nuttin'. Hearsay's hide on the backside is still chapped after bared-butt exposure to the below-freezing, spitting elements last weekend (People, people, they're called buttless chaps! To wear anything more than a jockstrap underneath is unpatriotic to the cause, no matter the chill factor). At least Hearsay wasn't alone in its ass-baring during the Centaur Motorcycle Club's annual Mid-Atlantic Leather Weekend. In fact, if you walked into practically any gay bar last weekend, you might have felt put out to pasture. Still, with all the cowhide on display, Hearsay expected to see as much or more furry manhide. And Hearsay did, as each night of the three-day weekend progressed into the wee hours that are known to some as morning but to Hearsay as time without end. Are you wearing any leather in the nether, Hearsay asked several participants at Saturday's lavish Leather Cocktails at the luxurious Almas Temple. “Oh, you're going to have to find out for yourself,” Rick “Baltimore's Little Debbie” Valentino responded. Turns out, he wasn't; there was nothing but a chilly metal cockring under his plaid kilt. His partner, Scott “I'll Size You Up” Anthony, sported a matching kilt and the same accouterment plus a “Zero Gauge” Prince Albert he trotted out of its case for closer inspection to any jewel-hunter who showed passing interest. It was that kind of night. In between tales of leather and tails of cock, Hearsay, in its own little Sex & the City way, began to wonder: Does leather equal love? Well, if leather doesn't lead to love, well, it at least whips up nicely as sex. Mr. Maryland Leather 2003 Eric “Lucky Charms” Kuzminski loves leather, obviously, but he loves buttplay just as much, with his red and pink hankies peeking out the back pocket of his black leather pants. Yes, Virginia, the hanky code is still in full sling, er swing. Kuzminski seemed on the verge of flogging Hearsay for asking whether he was competing in the next day's Mid-Atlantic Leather Contest. Mr. Maryland Leather is “at the same level” of competition as Mid-Atlantic, he explained. So no. Kuzzie Wuzzie went last year to the master of all pageants, International Mr. Leather, held annually in that great state of the cow, Illinois. Going this year is Victor “There's No Mc” Mullen, who will compete as, drum roll please, Mr. Ramrod 2003. Mullen was visiting from Ft. Lauderdale for the purpose of “sizing up his competition.” “The cold weather is sobering,” the sullen Mullen said. Of course he's cold, though, parading around in buttless chaps (worn the right way, just as Hearsay demanded), showing off his formidable assets where, in his case, the sun does shine, day after glorious day.
MAL co-chair Mike “I'm Here to Help” Dembski showed Hearsay his prized digital-camera capture of a friend caught licking the horse-sized protrusion of the centaur ice sculpture. The amazingly detailed sculpture was, shall we say, leaking pre-liquid as the night wore on. Enforcer of the Law Brett “I Think I'm Too Old to Wear Leather” Parsons was working the crowd. To make sure nothing slips out? “To make sure nothing explodes,” he replied. “Have you seen some of the things guys here are wearing?”
Hearsay was pleased to see at least two dozen women in the crowd, including the Geri-Teri duo of Reading, Penn., the only women in their leather & Levi's club, the Reading Railmen. Amid abundant hoots ‘n hollers, the six contestants for the following day's Mid-Atlantic Leather competition were brought out as a “teaser.” Tease away, boys! Hearsay surmised Mr. Connecticut Leather Tug “On It” Taylor was one of the crowd's favorites. Tug went on to win the next day, so Hearsay surmised right.
A little later on, Hearsay followed the stampede over to the Washington Plaza Hotel for the Boots, Cigars and Rhythm social, where it encountered the DJ action of Danny “My Body Is Walking in Space” Linden. Hearsay asked Le Linden what sex toys he enjoyed. “Sex toys do not really feature in my own repertoire,” he said. “Pretty much because I had a most unfortunate incident with an Etch-A-Sketch. When medically removed, I had somehow drawn a three-story house with a gazebo out back.” Gee, talk about sphincter control -- they don't call Danny “The Man Trap” for nothing. Larry “Nine Inch Nails” Barat kept the stogie-smokin' crowd happy with his rendition of Dance of the Seven Floggers, a George Balanchine-inspired number complete with a pas de deux for one. Hearsay ran into cute-as-a-button Mr. Mid-Atlantic Leather pageant judge Jeff “Triple Nipple” Nowak, a.k.a. Mr. American Leather Boy 2003, who spent the past year “educating ‘boys' that it's not the collar that makes the boy, it's the boy that makes the boy.” Oh, boy. Jeff learned Hearsay a few things, too. Which is why Hearsay is currently having such a hard time sitting.
Hearsay was somewhat dismayed that there was no impromptu “Dog” Show at the hotel this year -- but it did catch a glimpse of several “dog” owners and their rambunctious “pets” earlier in the day. As it nuzzled the cold, wet nose of a particularly playful “pooch,” Hearsay wondered why pooper-scoopers weren't de rigueur -- after all, even the most obedient “pup” can have an accident.
Hearsay meant to file a deeply probing report from Reaction dance, but to be honest, it had so much fun at the event, held again this year at Nation, that all it remembers is a) drinking far too much and b) getting up on a box and dancing like a crazed 24-year-old until its shins splintered. How's that for a little S&M?…
Before the weekend officially began, Hearsay ventured over to the Green Lantern, to see how much leather -- and how little else -- would be worn shirtless Thursday night. Bartenders Martin “Cherry” Garcia and Lou “Bourbon Balls” Persic set the mood right, wearing harnesses as they saddled up the crowd. Persic was later seen around town in buttless chaps that he sometimes but not always wore over jeans. For shame. Hearsay got all bothered when it heard Blaine “Spit or” Soileau say something about “daddy.” Turns out, the would-be/could-be/should-be daddy Soileau was looking for a daddy himself that night. Certainly there were plenty to be had.
Before the Lantern, Hearsay popped by Titan for the third annual Emergency Cocktail Broadcast Network (ECBN) Drinker Awards, at which the aforementioned Danny Linden miraculously and suddenly sprouted an Afro . Wayne “Won't Do It Without My Fez On” Nesbitt hosted the falling-down drunk event which bestowed awards on Tim “Stiff” Woody for Outstanding Cocktail Song and Ritchie “Surprise! That's No Hot Dog!” Chameroy for Best Recycled Cocktail. Max “I'm a Girl and I Got the Boobs to Prove It” Steiner took home the Joan Crawford/Bette Davis Hi-Ball Bitch Slap Award, while Mary Elizabeth Boyd, who typically wears a fur hat with some sort of fluffy dead animal wrapped around her neck, was honored with the “Our Lady of Roadkill Lifetime Cocktail Achievement Award.”
Meanwhile, back to Saturday afternoon (you want chronological cohesion in a column, go read something else), over at the perpetually-packed Eagle, the D.C. Boys of Leather and American Leatherman 2003 Bill “That's a Little Itchier Than I Like It” Mitchell hosted the Boy Gathering for MAL, raising $1,500 for Pediatric AIDS/HIV Care and SMYAL. Schelli “Pin Cushion” Dittman reports that the Eagle had the highest leather weekend attendance in the bar's history. “The staff carried kegs and cases till their legs about fell off.” So that explains why Bill “Now That's Italian” Cappello placed an order for person-sized dollies on Monday.
On a final note, Hearsay must call attention to the fact that Frank “It's Showtime” Nowicki had his own personal parking space reserved in the pull-up driveway of the Washington Plaza Hotel. It was marked by a huge blow-up pic of a grinning Frank cuddling a -- what else? -- teddy bear. “Is that clout or what,” marveled Nowicki's longtime friend Jim “Mount Everest” McGlade. No, Jim, that's not mere clout. That's the mark of a leather goddess, er, god, er, legend…