wine and cheap perfume

I volunteered to bartend at this big gay event at the Chelsea Piers the other day, and it was ridiculous. It was a fundraiser with a $5,000 admission charge, so as you can imagine, only the oldest, crustiest gays attended. So there was some like D-grade rock band performing, and standing on the side of a stage was an interpreter, who awkwardly gyrated her body to the song's beat as she signed the lyrics to the crowd. It's like, I understood the importance of her role earlier in the evening, as she translated dynamic political speeches for the hearing-impaired members of the audience. But the lyrics to cheesy songs covered by an equally cheesy cover band? One second, it's an interpretation of Kate Clinton's tirade on the homophobic right-wing contingent: "Gay people ARE faith-based people, because when they come out to their family and friends, they are taking a leap of faith!" and the next it's: "Oooh, baby. I love your way. Everyday. I want to be with you night and day, Hey, yaaay. Yaaaaay, yaaay." Like, no one cares. I wandered home as the sun was setting and was so glad to be back in New York I wanted to kneel down and kiss the pavement.