Monday, January 02, 2006

Tales of a West Hollywood Drop Out Part 2

When we walked into Numbers every one at the bar turned around, as they do there. This is a pretty common practice at bars in LA. The first time it happened to me I wasn’t sure why people were staring at me. It was at the bar in the Standard Hotel. Almost every one turned to see who the new person in the bar was. When they realized I wasn’t anyone worth mentioning they whet back to their drinks.

The practice at Numbers is a bit different. This is where older wealthy gay men go to find some companionship for the night. The place just reeked of loneliness and desperation.

Just being in this bar gave Josh’s ego a shot in the arm. He loved it when older wealthy men approached him. He never seems to have enough attention. However being mistaken for a postitute wasn’t something I enjoyed. Not that it ever happened to me. At 10lbs overweight I was obese by West Hollywood standards.

Tonight we seemed to get a longer examination then was customary. I thought it was because of the way we were dressed. Seeing a man in a dress in a gay bar is welcome a man in a suit isn‘t. Sometimes when the three us were out together we would get odd looks because we were the tallest people in the room. In height we ranged from 6’6” to 6’3”. The suits just made us look suspicious.

Josh flashed his award winning smile to the senior crowd, surly to pick out his next target if Chris’s trust fund ran out. There didn’t seem to be any takers tonight. He was so happy it didn’t seem to bother him.

We were escorted to a table by a host that looked like an aged porn star. He looked familiar but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen him before. He had a rugged handsomeness. His Levis were filled out perfectly. I am sure these were the only qualifications listed on his resume. When he opened his mouth his purse fell out, ruining my fantasy.

We started with calamari with marinara sauce. I can’t remember what I ordered for dinner, due to the cosmos we were drinking. Numbers may have awful food and lack atmosphere but that is all made up for with the perfect cosmo.

After dinner it was to Motherload for some more drinks. I can’t imagine why we would go there other then Chris knows all the bartenders. By this time of night everything would be in full swing there wouldn’t be a reason to stop there, but we did.

People kept asking us why were dressed up.

“We got married today.”

“Huh? All three of you?”

“Yes! We couldn’t be happier.”

One drink was about all I could take at this place. We walked across the street to Mickey’s. This is the bar Chris loves to hate, but we wanted to dance. Josh and I didn’t want to deal with all the circuit queens at Rage, neither did I. Chris agreed with a huff.

We danced and drank more. The music was loud. The club was packed. We were having a great time. I was no longer buzzed I was drunk.

I made a couple rounds in bar talked to a couple of friends, made a new friend or two. When I met up with Chris and Josh again Josh was talking to Javier. They were standing by the entrance. Javier was our drug dealer. He used to do hair with Chris but business had been so good he went into drugs full time. Josh and Javier went into the men’s room.

“What are they doing?” I shouted.

“I dunno,” he was half angry half concerned.

A few minutes passed. Josh made his way back over to us. He walked up to Chris with a funny smirk on his face, his cheeks were all red his eyes were glossy. Chris turned his head to kiss him, but Josh fell to the ground.

Both Chris and I leaned down to help him up. We got him to his feet. He still had the smirk on his face. He was leaning on me for support.

“Are you OK?” I yelled into his ear. He didn’t respond. I turned my head to Chris to see what we should do. Josh slipped and fell again. This time I was able to catch him.

“It’s time to go!”

“I’ll get us a cab.”

Chris held Josh up wile I went out side to hail a taxi.

With one arm over each of our necks we guided him to the car. He couldn’t stand up. We picked him up like a log and laid him on the back seat. Chris got in the back. I got in the front.

You could see the cab driver was a little nervous. He was a little Russian who didn‘t seem to like the look of us.

“Iz dat guy all right?”

“Yeah he’s fine,” I said unconvincingly. Chris started to giggle.

I gave him our address. Thank God we are only about a mile away.

The cab driver kept looking in the rear view mirror at Josh’s head resting in Chris’s lap. He circled the block. He would look in the mirror at the road then at me. I was starting to think he was just going to pull over and tell us to get out of the car. We make a right onto Fountain a left on the wrong street. I explain to him the next block is Kings. He grumbles at me.

We are halfway down the hill on the block parallel to ours when Josh’s stomach started to turn. We could all hear it.

The cab drive yells into the mirror, “he better not be zick back deer!” He wasn’t paying attention to where he was driving, we were getting closer and closer to the cars parked along the side of hill.

Josh couldn‘t hold it down any longer. The contents of Josh‘s stomach hit the back of the driver‘s seat and the floor with a loud slosh. I look back, then forward. “Oh my God!” I screamed as the cab driver drove right into a parked car.

Time stood still for a second. I was to scared to move. No, no this didn’t just happen, but it did.

Chris broke the science with a laugh. “Hey, hey, if you don’t tell anyone about this. *hiccup* We won’t tell anyone about that.”

The diver is beat red. He probably part of the Russian Mafia and this job is just a front. He will kill us for sure. He lets out a heavy sigh. He backs the taxi up. There is a big dent in the car we hit. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t say anything. He drives us to our street.

“Just let us out here at the bottom.”

“But how are we going to get,” Chris starts but I shut him up with a look.

I pay the driver he starts to argue with me about the vomit, but I just got out of the car to help Chris with Josh. We barely get the door closed. The driver swears at us and speeds off.

We get Josh half way but the hill. I am drunk and tired. We sit him down for a rest. His eyes look like they are rolling back in his head. Immediately I think, Oh shit he’s in a K hole.

I don’t know why but I remember the last time we were at Probe someone called Chris a silly queen for not knowing that you give some one in a K hole Coke-A-Cola to get them out. I told Chris to stay there I was going to run to the apartment to get some Coke.

“Don’t move.”

I ran the rest of the way up the hill. I nearly slipped on my new Kenneth Cole shoes. I ran up stairs, let my self in, and get to the fridge. Snatching the Coke I made a mad dash out of the building. Halfway down the sidewalk, I found Chris dragging a face down Josh across the street. Chris had his arms under each of Josh’s shoulders. Josh’s legs were bent at the knees. This is what Christ would have looked like if he feel face forward off the cross.

“What the fuck are you doing? I told you not to move him?”

Chris says something I don’t understand. I picked up one side of Josh so we can get him out of the street. We sat him up on a garden wall. I get the bottle I dropped. I start to force-feed him the Coke. After I thought he had enough I took the bottle away from him. Josh sat there with his head bobbing up and down for a few seconds. I let out a deep breath.

As I leaned into help him stand up, I am met with a warm liquid falling all over my the bottom of my pants and shoes. The smell of bile mixed with tomato sauce stung my nose.

Chris gasped.

In one motion I picked Josh up by the head and shirt.

“Now you’re going to walk bitch!”

By myself I pushed Josh up the rest of the hill. I walked him up the stairs and into our apartment hoping my grip will give him a burse. I took him into their bedroom where I let him fall face first onto the bed. Chris was afraid of what I’d do next. He pushed me out of the room assuring me he could take it from there.

The next morning I woke up with one on the worst hangovers I’ve ever had. When I opened my bedroom door. Josh walked by me. He smiled it was obvious he had little memory of the night before. I looked down to see both of his knees were scrapped and scabbed over.

“Are you going to say anything?”

“ Well Scotty, It wasn’t the first time, it won’t be the last.”


At 8:08 AM, Blogger Atari_Age said...

Frakkin K... I still don't get the point of that drug.

Holy crap, though, what a fucking mess! How often did you have to deal with stuff like that?

And are all the WH bars like that - I mean, everyone getting judged when they walk in the door?

Actually, I'd barf too.

At 8:55 AM, Blogger David said...

Thanks for the (cautionary) tale. I don't regret for a minute that I never got into that scene.

At 5:17 PM, Blogger Chox said...

I got "judged" at the Standard once...and the bartender also threw me attitude. I just very sweetly asked him if he was in a bad mood because the only acting work he'd gotten recently was the Craftmatic Adjustable Bed commercial.

I've had friends g-out on me, as well as go into k-holes. I've retired from that scene...can't deal with it anymore. The only reason why I got into it in the first place was an ex-boyfriend who was.

Ugh...I love reading West Hollywood Distaster Stories.


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