The real faces of Blow Pony, Chelsea Starr and Blake Cedric. Photo courtesy Wesley Walton
I have only heard that the weekend started off right with Red Cap’s Bootie mashup party on Friday. Alas, these old bones needed at least one day of rest where I remained in my own neighborhood to attend a mellow house party. But I did make it out the following two nights starting with Portland’s reigning king of mixed queer nights Blow Pony on Saturday.
While I am plenty nostalgic, I have nothing but love for the success of my favorite events. Blo Po has clearly blown up. And while I am very happy for them, their new found fame may have some detrimental effects to my formerly favorite night.
The diversity of BP has always been its strength. And Portland has no lack of weirdos. Even the “straight” attendees have not been your usual club going crowd. So I never minded the egalitarian wait of long lines before 10:30. But I have to admit to some chagrin at waiting for 30 minutes at the incredibly early 10 o’clock hour while hordes of nondescript onlookers trudge up the steps and I get charged the higher cover at exactly 10:31. Is there no such thing as customer loyalty anymore?
Again, a drink line is to be expected. I am a patient man. But the labyrinthian layout of Branx/Rotture makes it so you can’t even approach the dance floor in time to give your favorite song a few steps. Indeed, if you leave your pals in search of the loo you may not find them again until the lights so unceremoniously blind your dilated pupils at exactly 2:15.
But perhaps my most crotchety moment came when fellow blogger was thrown shade by a snotty Village Voice writer who thought he needn’t wait in the same bathroom line as everyone else. We’ve got some news for you NYC, Portland knew we were cool before you “discovered” us, and are not scrambling for your hordes of entitled refugees.
Luckily, a truly community experience was to be had the following night at Hot Pink Mass. Never having gone to an actual Catholic mass before I was skeptical of the brightly colored take on religious ceremony. And though I was disappointed I did not get to kneel and receive sacrement directly on my protruding pink tongue, the oddly strawberry body of, well, whomever, did make me feel a certain spiritual fervor.
Brooklyn’s Reverend Honorable Doctor Miss Madam Damien Luxe was a fantastic minister of events and the Maude Squared choir truly blew me away with their beautifully harmonized renditions of George Michael and other racy tunes. The Pink altar boys were adorable and there was a general sense of righteous comraderie that flowed through all the ceremonies of the evening including the public confessional, prayer and kegel exercises.
I may get religion yet.
Alley,
I would even go a bit further than you have: Blow Pony is on the outs. It was great while it lasted, but it has become far too popular and crowded with a, for a lack of better term, “non-blow pony” crowd. The dirty queer dance party scene that was blow pony is going to move to another venue and give up on Blow Pony. When having to wait in a line for 45 minutes or longer at a club in Portland to step inside a far too crowded dance floor and having to wait a ludicrous amount of time in line for a drink is far too much for me and many of my friends to handle. In fact, we skipped this months because of our experience last month. I have heard the exact complaint from various friends across the spectrum of Portland. Klowns, dykes, bois, and bears are going to find someplace else to get down and dirty with each other. Let’s all get BENT!
yeah, the bathroom line ‘ tude was a bit much:
(Patiently waiting in line. Weird dude cuts through line and goes to front.)
Me: Hey, there’s a line actually.
Him: I know there is a line. (bitchy) I’m a journalist.
Me: (happy excited) I’m a journalist too!
Him: (super bitchy, shakes head) No. I’m a journalist for the village voice.
Me: Well, I’m a journalist for qpdx.com and there is still a line. It’s a very nice line. We’re very friendly. You should stay and chat.
Him: I’m from the village voice and I am writing a review. I’m from New York. (leaves with a bitchy comment and gesture)
Me: (to friendly bear next to me) He was very disrespectful.
Bear: (nods)
The End
Matthew – Totally got your back on this one. Bent looks good. I will be there fo sho
Yeah, BP has become a total shit show. not enough space. too many lines. Blow pony should continue (if not just for the terrific stripper lineup), but there should be alternatives. I think its popularity really shows that people are done with the mainstream/self-segregating gay clubs. They are sooo last-generation gay. Party organizers, take note!
3rd anniversary the other night was pretty good, but then again I got there at 9:30 and only ordered about twice from the bar…