I got to boogie

I love the nightlife, I got to boogie

I love the nightlife
Daniel had organised for a big night out to show me all that the Sydney gay scene had to offer. Following the excitement of being shouted at by an irate homeowner for taking photos of his house earlier in the day I was in need of a stiff drink. We walked down into Newtown to the Bank Hotel where we were joined by some of Daniel’s friends. Our little gang consisted of Craig, Kurt, who I had met a couple of times before, and Ferry, a Dutch friend of Kurt’s. Over our first beer I asked why a large number of the pubs in Australia seemed to have “hotel” in the name despite there being no discernible place to sleep. The consensus seemed to be that it related to when licensing laws were stricter and places could open longer to serve alcohol if they were a hotel, regardless of whether you were actually staying there or not. It sounded plausible but they could have been making it up. I am a firm believer that if you say anything with enough confidence then people will believe you.

We recounted our day – salty spray, swimming and Sylvania Waters – over spicy Thai food at a place called Thai Rific. Who doesn’t like a restaurant with a pun for a name? It reminded me of a sandwich shop close to my old office called “Get the Focaccia” which made me chuckle every time I passed it. The first stop on our tour of the Sydney gay scene was within walking distance – The Imperial Hotel. The place was used in the opening scene of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert making it the second famous(ish) location I had visited that day. There was a karaoke contest going on but they were taking a bit of a break between singers, the drag queen in charge trying to get the crowd to vote for one of three singers by cheering for their favourite. Having not heard any of them singing I cheered for all three which I thought was only fair. The break meant that we could enjoy our beer and conversation without having to listen to anyone ruining a good song with their bad singing. We only stayed for one drink, leaving just as the singers started again.

Kurt and Ferry headed off, leaving me, Daniel and Craig to get a taxi to Oxford Street. Our first venue was the Stonewall Hotel. The downstairs bar was absolutely packed and a bouncer was directing people straight upstairs to a second bar that was equally packed. We finally got through the crowds and after waiting a while made it to the bar. Both Craig and I had found a space along the bar, both of us trying to catch the attention of the barman. Despite staring right at the barman he didn’t make eye contact, serving other people at one end of the bar who had only just got to the front. There are certain things that put me off a venue and bar staff who don’t have any clue at all as to the order of people in line at the bar is one of them. I can forgive the odd occasion where a barman misses me out to serve some hotter/younger/fitter but the guy behind the bar was clueless. Luckily Craig was of the same opinion as me and after a couple of minutes of waiting we gave it up as a bad job and left.

I got to boogie

We crossed Oxford Street and went in to The Oxford Hotel, which was much quieter and where we had no problem getting to the bar or getting served. The place might have been quieter on account of the interesting characters that seemed to be frequenting the place. One of the staff members was sweeping up a large quantity of hair from the floor. Daniel explained that they had a naked barber on certain nights and you could get your head shaved for $10. The barber had gone so I wasn’t able to get my hair cut although it was in need of doing. In the middle of the room was a guy using one of the tall tables to prop himself up, one arm draped across the table, his head rested on it as he swayed back and forth. He looked like he was drunk and possibly on the verge of throwing up or passing out. Having reached into his bag for something he proceeded to clean his arms with what I can only assume was some sort of anti-bacterial alcohol wash. We watched for a while, amused and confused until he finally stopped cleaning his arms and proceeded to fall asleep while stood up, his head resting on the table. The next character was a rather enthusiastic Asian lady who insisted on talking to Craig despite the fact that he couldn’t understand a word she was saying. She appeared to be trying to get him to dance. Or maybe marry her. It was hard to tell. I was just pleased that the nutters were avoiding me for a change. We only stayed for one drink, making our exit when the lady headed off to chat to someone else.

The next stop on our tour was Arq, just off Oxford Street on Flinders Street. As we walked down the stairs into the bar I heard a familiar voice say “You are f**king kidding me”. It was the nightmare ex-colleague with the drinking problem I had been telling Daniel about earlier that day. I had heard from a mutual friend that he was back in Sydney for Christmas and New Year but I figured Sydney was big enough to make bumping into each other randomly highly unlikely. Clearly it wasn’t. After I said hello he told me he was just heading outside for a cigarette and he would catch up with me shortly. We went in and made our way to the bar. Daniel asked who it was and I told him, both of us marvelling at fate and the chain of events that had led us to be in the same place at the same time. Had we arrived a minute earlier we probably wouldn’t have spotted each other in the crowded bar, a minute later he might have already gone before we arrived.

We got some drinks and found a spot to stand. The ex-colleague found us and I introduced him to Daniel. He was, true to form, absolutely wasted. His eyes had that slightly glazed look that I had noticed on plenty of occasions at work events, a sign that I needed to try and keep him away from the free bar and clients as long as possible. He talked about himself, his new flat and his new job, told me about his holiday back home to Oz and then said he had to go find his friends. He didn’t bother to ask me how my trip was going. We stayed at Arq long enough to watch some of the drag act that was on, not the best that I have seen on my travels but not the worst either. Craig said his goodbyes and left Daniel and me to it. We decided to head elsewhere, managing to get out without me bumping into the drunken nightmare again.

On our way out Daniel spotted one of his friends who asked us where we were headed. We had been about to get a taxi home but we decided a nightcap couldn’t hurt. We went back to Stonewall, which was now a lot quieter, allowing us to get served at the downstairs bar without any trouble. We only stayed for one before Daniel suggested we finish off the night with a trip to Palms for a bit of a dance, Daniel assuring me that the music was suitable cheesy. The place was about half full (or empty if you are a pessimist) but the majority of people were on the dancefloor. We had a couple of drinks and danced to the music. It was perfect for me – a good mix of classic pop songs from the 1970s onwards to current pop chart toppers. I'm one of those people who needs a song with lyrics I know in order to dance. By the time we made our way home in the early hours I felt like I had been shown a good selection of what Sydney had to offer and having visited three "hotels" in one night I was ready for bed. More importantly I had made it through the evening without being poked by a nutter.

“I love the nightlife, I got to boogie” 
Lyrics from I Love the Nightlife from the musical Priscilla, Queen of the Desert