Miss Thing, There IS No Guestlist Tonight!

Back in the day when I first came out, my friends and I used to go to this club called Tracks, a sprawling nightclub in a warehouse in the sketchiest part of Washington, DC.  You would pray to find a parking space close to the club so you didn't have to walk too far or get harassed by the thugs and homeless people that always cased the neighborhood, but once inside it was amazing!  An enormous dancefloor surrounded by raised platforms, a separate video room and an outdoor dancefloor overlooking a volleyball court, this club had it all, attracting live performers like Robin S., Crystal Waters, CeCe Peniston and some of the hottest porn stars of the day, all governed by Sister Face, a gigantic bitch of a drag queen with a bad attitude and the fashion sense of a garbage dumpster.  Her arch nemesis was this bald black queen in platforms, latex and sequins who used to march around the volleyball court yelling 'CUNTY!  CUNTY!  CUNTY!' at the top of her lungs, and who would have ever guessed she'd turn that phrase into a song, and then a recording career as Kevin Aviance?  Not me!  To me she was just an annoying queen who always had the good shit.

And since today is Gay Pride NYC is dragging all the dance divas out of mothballs for another victory lap.  Remember Ultra Nate?  My boyfriend sure does, and 'Free' has been running on an infinite loop in my brain for the last two days thanks to his incessant need to find one song that he's excited about and play it over and over AND OVER again and sing along even though he's never bothered to learn the words.

So as this concert is going on my boyfriend leans over to me and whispers 'There's Coco' and since it's classic dance music and my brain works in mysterious ways I immediately think Coco from Fame and I'm looking all over for Irene Cara, but no, it's supermodel Coco Rocha.  New York!  You slay me every time!