Two weeks ago I went to my FAVORITE gay night out that I’ve been to in LA. It was called MUG SHOT and it was held at the Alexandria Hotel Downtown.
It was awesome for many reasons, the first being that it was five minutes away from my house. Also, since it was on the East Side, it attracted a different (and in my opinion more fun) crowd than many of the West Hollywood events. It was much less uptight and cliquey and there were actually people dancing. When I walked in and saw one of the hired dancers doing aerobics moves from the ‘80s, I knew I would fit right in (since those are the only dance moves I know).
Plus, since it was an East Side event, the girls were wearing more fun clothes, had cooler hairstyles often involving shaving their head asymmetrically yet still looking amazing, and were generally more tatted up than the West Hollywood girls. Even though I myself am somewhat uptight about clothing and don’t have any tattoos*, I’m very appreciative of them on others.
*as in I wear boat shoes on a regular basis and don’t often show much cleavage. And as far as the tattoos there are a few obvious major problems. First, I pass out when needles are stuck in me. I don’t know when this started happening because when I was younger shots didn’t really bother me. However now, seeing blood in conjunction with any kind of needle (every blood test) causes me to lose consciousness unless I’m lying on my back with my eyes shut. Plus, you know, I’m Jewish, and there’s this whole thing where you can’t get buried in a cemetery with other Jews if you mar your body or whatnot. I think this is stupid. However, my father, a very sweet elderly Jewish man named Bruce, might have a stroke and I really don’t want to kill him because I like him.
In fact, it kind of felt like I was back in San Francisco. Which was fantastic. While I’m not super into the overcast weather, I have had an AMAZING experience every time I’ve gone out there, and the gay scene there is pretty much the best. As well, there is a general non-judgmental attitude which I really appreciate. People come as they are and as they want to be, not how they feel they should be dressing. There’s a level of comfort there that doesn’t usually exist in other places.
This is a pretty cool thing. Not only because it’s such a supportive environment, but because, in a completely selfish way, the people watching is fantastic.
It’s kind of like when you go to Folsom Street Fair or Dore Alley (for those of you who haven’t heard of them, these are fetish and bondage fairs that take place on the streets of San Francisco) and part of the reason you go is to support people’s interest and right to be involved in what most of society considers non-normative (or worse) sexual preferences, and the other part is because it’s entertaining to see bears (big hairy gay men) get dressed up in leather domination outfits and smack each other with feathered crops.
And MUG SHOT had a little bit of that going on, though certainly not to the same level as Folsom or Dore Alley.
At one point during my night at the Alexandria, a friend of mine pointed out a woman wearing head-to-toe leather and spiked six-inch heels. She didn’t stand out, and I wasn’t particularly interested in looking at her until the friend mentioned that she was a professional dominatrix.
WHOA.
HOW AWESOME IS THAT?! Did you know that is a profession? How Crazy/beautiful is it that people would pay this chick to dominate them? Or that someone can actually make a living that way?
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Anyway, I watched the dominatrix for a moment before my friend mentioned that she was probably dressed that way because she was with a client. Holy Baby Jesus and All His Archangels, Seraphim, and Jillian Michaels-eque Personal Trainers. This was going to get interesting.
I did not quite realize how interesting though. Instead of bringing out some girl in a spiked collar or well, I wasn’t actually sure what kind of person she would bring out but let’s just roll with it for a moment, she brought out someone… in a bunny suit.
And not just an ordinary Easter-style bunny. A leather, scary-ass bunny suit that nearly left me running away Scooby Doo-style with my legs spinning so fast that they blurred into little wheels before I zipped away.
I want to be supportive of people’s preferences. I do. But frankly I would somehow like to get warned before a scary bunny makes an appearance right in front of me.
The rest of the night went well, with nothing unusual happening, although I have to say I was still a little out of it having been somewhat scarred by the bunny experience.
Surprisingly, the strangest part of this whole experience was not actually seeing the bunny, but people’s reaction to the bunny story. The next day I went to lunch with my sister and a friend of hers named Sam. When I recounted the story she seemed uninterested and in fact said something along the lines of “I’ve seen weirder things.” Sam just shrugged his shoulders and they went back to talking about what kind of food they were going to order, and how my sister Clementine really didn’t like the consistency of eggs.
Okay, what the fuck.
I know that my sister has lived in LA all her life and that Sam has been here quite a while, but come on. Wouldn’t you be just a little phased by this story? Is there really nothing you can see at a club, short of a real talking unicorn or a serial killer, that will promote any kind of reaction?
This disturbs me.
I would like to think that the reason neither one of them cared is because they are just so hip and “like, you know, we’ve met tons of bunnies, both of the furry and leather variety, and think it is an acceptable sexual choice” kind of people. But they are not.
They were just not phased.
I was so confused. I felt like all of these foundations I had built my life on were suddenly shaken. If seeing someone in a leather bunny suit is not scary, what is? Is the Joker suddenly showing up at parties in Silverlake and “kind of a fun guy now”? Are Scream masks a trendy and acceptable accessory for hitting up The Thirsty Crow on a Friday night?
I wasn’t sure how to proceed.
This was of course until I whined at my sister and made her look at the photo.
Then she yelled at me that the photo was the creepiest shit she’d ever seen and that she would have nightmares and thanks a lot.
Thank God. Though now she’s irritated at me for another reason, at least I know there are some things that do continue to phase people in LA. Although Sam still didn’t find anything too strange about it which makes me think…
IS HE THE BUNNY?
Uh oh.
Ariel
Ps. My sister already told me she wont read this.
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