Monday, May 09, 2005

worst. gay bars. ever.

After spending hours obsessing about hot front desk guy Nate, Jeff and I decided to get our minds off of venturing out into the world of gay Portland. I got recommendations from a couple of friends (and former Portland-ians) that we should check out this fun, cheesy bar called, "Embers," located in Pearl District. My friend, Alice, had mentioned that "Embers" actually burnt down once when she was little...making the name of the bar ironically hip.

As soon as we walked into "Embers," I wanted to leave. Embers was one of those gay bars that has a bunch of random rainbow colored crap hanging off the walls and ceiling rafters. The actual bar appeared to be made of glass, but on closer turned out to be made of plastic. This clear plastic bar was filled with a bunch of tiny live fish...which would have been cool, if it wasn't so dirty. There were only a few people milling about the bar and most of them were watching a lesbian and a gay-sian perform the world's worst karaoke rendition of the Mariah Carey/Boyz II Men cheesefest, "End of the Road."

Once we ordered drinks, Jeff and I wandering into the back room of Embers, where a boy in short shorts informed us that it was "Latino night" and that there was a five dollar cover, because some drag queens were going to put on a show at midnight. Since I wasn't really in the mood to pay for much of anything at this point, Jeff and I went back to suffer through some more karaoke.

After the gay-sian and the lesbian finished up their individual performances, a woman took the stage that Jeff described as "a lesbian that Molly Shannon would have played on Saturday Night Live." The young lady wore a long flowing skirt, flips flops, and chunky black glasses. She looked incredibly uncomfortable to be standing in front of even the tiniest of audiences. My heart went out to this brave young woman...until she finished up her rendition of "Because the Night," by launching into "Walking in Memphis." As the bespectacled young lady awkwardly shuffled in place, Jeff and I snuck out the door.

I was ready to go home at this point, but for some reason Jeff really wanted to experience ALL that gay Portland had to offer on a Sunday we ended up heading over to "C.C. Slaughter's." I don't really have the time or the inclination to go into great detail about the ridiculousness that was "Slaughter's." Let's just say that "Slaughter's" was a gay video bar...and at least FOUR of their eight televisions were showing gay porn.

Against my better judgment, Jeff convinced me to hang out at the faux industrial-looking bar for a drink...but once the man with the cane and the handlebar mustache hobbled up to the seat next to me...I ran for the door.

Although I didn't stick around to find out, I'm sure the man with the cane was "very nice."


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