Archive for mojito

Going to a Happy place with a group of Gay Men

Posted in beer, blog, boulder, colorado, faeries, life with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 29, 2010 by tymora42

To be clear, Happy is a bar down the street from my place in Boulder that specializes in making drinks. Gay Men are homosexuals, meaning they like intimate relationships with same sex partners. I have no issue with either except that at times they both can be a bit frou-frou.

I had never been inside Happy, although I have walked by it many of times and heard stories about the thousands of drinks the bartenders are required to have in their memory banks before an application would even be looked upon. These are not a set roll call of booze mixings, but rather a sheer quantity of knowledge and artistic talent ala Tom Cruise in Cocktail without all of the theatrics. Had there not been an onrush of gay men quadrupling the normal weekend crowd size, and I mean the whole weekend, not just one night multiplied by four, I would have ordered the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster only to see if they could make it. As it was, the Sushi menu of drinks was dropped to the Happy Hour list with dinner time prices.

Blake of the Moab fame invited me to this meetup or matchmaker or manhunter (I cannot remember the title of the group), where the homosexual union in the Boulder area practices their solidarity in protest to no gay bars by taking over ‘straight’ establishments for the night, bringing tons of people, buying tons of drinks, and effectively scaring the hell out of wet-behind-the-ear bar backs. Actually, I invited myself when he told me about it. It sounded like much more fun than their usual orientation elitist naked parties. I like naked parties as much as the next guy, more than the next guy, much more than the next guy, but when you involve strict sexual conduct rules the ball crosses the fence for me.

I think sexism should be less gender specific and more about the orientation of those being prejudiced against. Sexism is really genderism. We need labels like this instead of homophobia. Phobia has the literal connotation of fear and the homo part cannot be used to slap back for being reverse discriminated against in the manner that ‘racism’ can. We do not call it blackaphobia, negraphobia, mexiphobia. Okay, xenophobia, sure but this is a condition that causes racism or is caused by it, not one that is inherently in and of itself ‘racist.’ I like to apply it to extraterrestrial aliens myself.

In ten minutes standing at the bar you can discern the feel of whether this guy is going to serve you anytime soon. He wasn’t. At that point it is important to find the lynch pin of the serving station. Every bar, no matter how crowded, has one. I usually explore the joint upon entry, find the bathrooms if I need an excuse, accidentally walk into the employee only kitchen for a head poke, lap the typical u-shaped center, bumping into interesting people along the way. This time I went straight, pun intended, for the drinks. This did not serve me well or even at all so I performed my Lewis and Clark impersonation. Oddly, the rear entrance, which became the main entrance due to the inclination of tonight’s current clientele and the fact that they were allegedly locking the front for a semi-private engagement, was it. I pushed through, teaching a bunch of demure twinks how to be more aggressive with getting the attention of the bartenders by waving cash around like a pervert at the TNA club. He says, “I only have a credit card.” Dancers take that too, buddy.

With Mojito in hand I could properly canvass the next stop on my tour, the smoking section. Yeah, yeah, yeah. A Mojito. I figured, when in Rome. This does not mean I am going to strip down to my toga in the bathhouse for a night with the son of Mars and Venus, but it does means I will drink a tasty mojito in an already frou-frou gay-for-the-night establishment. Evidently, Mercury forgot to deliver the message to some of them. There is always that one guy, the poacher, that you clearly demonstrate verbally your straightness, yet, he still wants to convert you. I could have learned much more about bears and otters than I wanted to that night. I even explained about my breast fixation. The general consensus was that those nasty things were just in the way. Being predominately straight, I can think of other protrusions that would ‘just be in the way.’

There was an after party. I did not go. Thanks to the Boulder Creek Festival my car was already parked way too far from my house. I could only imagine rolling in at 5am and having to walk a mile back to mi casa. Some guy offered a lift. He only had room for one. I figured Blake would get more out of it than I would, so I bowed out. I have more important things to do today needing an earlier rise of a different sort than some here might prefer. I have kinetic generator hula hoops to build. I have art exhibits to attend. I have concerts to go to. The Boulder Creek Festival might take my parking spot, but they cannot stop me from enjoying it.

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Home on Vacation – the rest

Posted in blog, colorado, houston, travel with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 20, 2009 by tymora42

Day 6 and 7 –

We took it easy. That much adventure left us exhausted for a while. We drank margaritas and mojitos in town after Tara took us to the souvenir shops her and mom scouted. Robert was looking for a cowboy hat to mark his Colorado debut. They also wanted to get steaks to treat my family to dinner as a way of thanks. They even left a card that made my mom tear up a little. Robert found his hat on the last day. He wanted to be sure it was the right one so he checked out the non-tourist places also.

We were supposed to go to the Piedra Hot Springs along the Sheep Creek Trail on Day 6, but a photo slideshow kept us a little too late for hiking. Again, we were late on Day 7 with dinner and all. I was hell bent on going, though, so we made the twilight trek. The wild animal fear gripped us once more on the path down the mountainside lit only by small flashlights and the moon. When we got there it was worth it. We almost turned around once or twice. Little did we know it was literally right around the next bend. There was a single car in the parking lot at the trail head and a single tent in a campground at the bottom. We knock knocked for permission to travel through, a courtesy campers use to let the sleepers know it is harmless humans lurking about their tents.

We also asked if they knew where the hot springs were. “Straight down the hill,” they answered. You follow the Sheep Creek Trail until you first hit water. Don’t go down to the bank just yet. Walk to the right and you will pass a single fire ring campsite. You are almost there. The trail looks overgrown here and you might not be sure it is the real trail or not. It is. The very next grove head down to the banks. You will see the pools. I am guessing they have black sand in them. It was dark. We could not be completely sure. Tara took some in a cigarette pack wrapper. I will have to ask her. The biggest clue you can have is the steam coming out of the water near the frigid river. Some are too hot like that Eddie Murphy/James Brown spoof on vintage Saturday Night Live. Find the one you like and lay down. They smell, but immerse yourself fully anyway. You will not regret it. I used a rock as a pillow to keep my head above. There is also a shovel left there to make them deeper or to blend the river with the spring.

We laid out soaking, reminiscing on the past week, and confirming our lifelong friendship. It was a nice end to the adventure. It was enough to make me remember why I moved here in the first place. I needed that shot of memory. I miss the people in Houston, but I do not miss not being able to walk out my backdoor for some wholesome outdoor activity. I can do the outdoor part in Houston, unfortunately it is never all that wholesome – skinny dipping in the fountains or climbing Miller Theatre after dark and running from the law. Yeah, I miss it a little.

Now that they are gone I am kind of bored. The past few weeks have been trying to solidify a place to live and a job. Neither seem ideal to me yet. The apartment is too expensive and too small. The job doe snot pay enough. This does not mean I cannot still look. The best part is I have a roommate I trust and some burgeoning friends to reacquaint ourselves.

Next Spring I will bring my canoe.