The day started at Downcity for brunch. It’s not quite breakfast and it’s not quite lunch, but it’s fabulous and it comes with a slice of cantaloupe. There’s always people we know down there so some ridiculous antics are typical and expected. Two bloody marys later we showed up at the Alleycat for a sangria with Michael Slade. Now we’ve commented in the past on how the renovations at Alleycat have been coming along — but the changes have never been so visible as when that big glass pane in the front of the bar went in. The place is looking fierce — congrats to Buck and Rande for pulling it together like that — it’s going to have street frontage like no other gay bar in Providence. Mirabar, the old Dark Lady, Eagle/Union and Wheels all have opaque, protective brick faces that seem to hide whatever it is we’re doing in those places. The Alleycat showcases us and invites people to see what’s going on, it’s fabulous. That is, until someone throws a brick through it and it becomes to expensive to replace. We’ll still enjoy it while it lasts though!
So after some socializing at Alleycat, we remembered that we had to buy Bernard a birthday cake for later that night. So off to Stop n’ Shop! Some broken-englished man reluctantly helped our drunken-in-the-daytime asses to write “Happy Birthday Bernard” on the cake. Unoriginal, yes, but it was either that, or “Here’s to 5 More Years, Drunkie”.
Anyway, we got to State later that evening around 10:30p, running a little late, showing up to find the place totally buzzing with people already. Great, right? But there was no fucking DJ, there was some silly euro-lounge CD playing — our DJ Marcus Christian had clearly spent too much time at Therapy the night before, didn’t get to bed and was now sleeping through his shift at State. Who does that? Now Marcus is a good friend and a good DJ, but shit like this is clearly not acceptable — how can we continue to use him? So we called in Tommy Stylez, who flew on over from across town to completely save the night — he was just sitting around about to go to bed anyway. Then Marcus showed up and we had to turn him away in the parking lot, lest Alex Tomasso bite off his head.
So the night totally packed, all night long. There was food, drinks and cake, and straight (?) JWU girls making out all over the place (not kidding) — it truly was a birthday party fitting of Bernard’s taste. Naturally though, something fucks it up and we end up dragging Gallery bartender Nick into the kitchen with a bloody face. Now we didn’t actually see what happened, but it was not a pretty sight. While it’s likely that there were some words had, the tiff eventually escalated into Nick on the ground being kicked in the face by two other guys. Seriously, who are these people that go around getting into fights with everyone? Since when is it okay to carry around such a penchant for violence? We can tolerate bitching, yelling and arguing, but the second people start putting their hands on each other, the whole situation degenerates and becomes completely intolerable. Nick spent the rest of the evening in the hospital and hit up the police station this morning to file a police report.
Get it together, bitches. Oh, and happy birthday Bernie.
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