Current mood:
breezy
Seven-thirty. I awoke to the gentle tapping of the rain against my bedroom windows at seven-thirty this morning. As I lay there, I thought several things; shall I go back to sleep?; shall I get up and do something productive?; shall I just pee and climb back into bed and snuggle with a pillow for a bit? Decisions, decisions!
The night before I had stopped at the Westside Lounge to see Ed. I had his share of the tips from our night of working together last Saturday, the night Madonna visited my little island, the night every gay person within the mid-Atlantic seaboard visited my little island and our little club. To say it was "standing-room-only" would be a serious understatement. There was not one place to stand/dance/pee/cavort/drink left in our little club the moment the concert was over.
Earlier that night, in anticipation of the events to unfold later, I decided that it would be a good idea to go to the former Studio Six site and pepper the walls with our little flyers promoting the Madonna afterparty. Most people are pretty Internet savvy and would be able to find us through various search engines but for those few who didn't have a clue, I also put bold black and white signs with our name, address and the fact that we are Atlantic City's ONLY gay bar, hell, we're the only gay bar in all of South Jersey (yes, it's a sad statement but…there it is). Once my little mission was compleat, I wandered through the busy nighttime streets and eventually found my way to the club. As soon as I got there, I began preparations for the night to come. Balloons, candles, extra stock, personal fortification with alcohol, determining who was actually working with me, more stock, more alcohol fortification and then I sat back and waited.
I must admit, for a bit, I was worried that things might be a bust. The Studio was such an icon in the gay community had me concerned that we might not get a substantial crowd.
I WAS DEAD WRONG!
As soon as the first few started arriving, it was like opening a floodgate and in they poured like a big gay tsunami! It never stopped! I seriously simply pointed at someone, took their order, made it, rang it up and pointed at the next one. I swear, if you took seventy-five percent of the crowd that was there that night and paraded them in front of me, I would not recognize a single face. I barely looked up. Except…when Ed smacked me right in the middle of my back with a Tanqeray bottle! Ouch!
Aside from the assault by my friend and cow-orker, I had a wonderful night!
Ed had to leave a little early, he had done a double and had to be back to open the next day (as well as a little back problem of his own) so I finished up the night, pretty much the way it began, that is, non-stop until they suddenly cleared out all at once and I was able to shut my bar and tidy up (such as I could). I was exhausted and after counting my drawer out, I grabbed the tips out of the jar and had to put them in my shoulder bag because no pocket has ever been invented to hold that many bills at one time. I then made the quick and easy decision to GO THE HELL HOME and get some rest.
It was a good decision!
The entire week had been rather good and surprisingly busy so I rested all through Sunday, barely getting out of bed unless nature called or hunger forced me to pad to the kitchen and scrounge something up.
I woke Monday and decided I'd best divvy up the moolah and pay Ed before he sent the Velvet Mafia after me! I dressed rather nice just in case I decided to go to mur.mur at the Borgata for the evening. I sat at the Westside and Ed put in the movie "Wall-E" which was very cute! After a few beers and watching the patrons come in soaking wet, I decided to ditch my mur.mur plans and just go home. I walked through the light drizzle to the Jitney stop and was whisked away home where I slept quite nicely.
It was not much past ten o'clock .
Before I knew it, I was up and out of the penthouse and sitting atBrittany
Yum!
Then I went visiting down to the Art of Flowers (where you should order all of your floral needs) where I got to see nearly the entire staff, which was unusual.
A little flower shop humour; the new driver was on his way to make the first round of deliveries and Jack asked him if this was his first "box party". It took me a while to figure it out. There was a funeral home delivery on the route. "Box party" means "coffin with a body".
I thought it was funny.
I then wandered through the city in the very light drizzle and did a bit of necessary shopping, getting those tidbits that I have been putting off because I have been poor.
Tonight I'll be returning to the Westside to deliver a few things I worked on today to Ed, and maybe hang around for another cocktail or two (or three or four).
This week brings Thanksgiving. Wednesday night I get to work and then Thursday I go see my mommy and family in Huntingdon Valley
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