GAYS LOVE CIRCUIT PARTIES

STEVEN SPILLS © 91

DANCING ON MY OWN

I recently had the sweet luck of scoring a coveted media pass to the White Party here in Palm Springs. Fortunately I was able to enjoy the gay festivities without paying the exorbitant ticket prices to go many places that were at any other time free admittance. So when the generous offer came across my iPhone on that Thursday, I cleared a few things to attend the parties that weekend because I originally had no intention on going.

The boys were out in full force wearing flip-flops over perfectly manicure feet with board shorts on many a Muscle Mary and skimpy white Speedos on the Twink Brigade. The cooler weather that Mother Nature bestowed upon the Coachella Valley during the events had many questioning the attendance since sunshine wasn’t in the immediate future. Never fear since at every glance and glare there were nearly naked nellies on platforms dancing, laying on each other making out on lounge chairs and cruising one another in the Renaissance Hotel lobby on Friday when I picked up my pass.

In the chaotic process, I met Charo who was taking photos with fans and saw where the NOH8 Campaign was in full force with Adam Bouska shooting his photographic art for equality. Charo turned to me as I was turning to go and it was like we knew each other already. We immediately kissed both cheeks, held hands and commented on how cold it was. Well, she was dressed in a paper-thin beaded gown covering her petite frame. She looked amazing! Very charming and exactly what you’d expect. Fiercely present in the moment.

That evening there was the Boxers or Briefs Boot Camp Party at the hotel which I skipped and an after-hours party that I sweetly slept through. I work fulltime and need some rest. Please. On Saturday, the official Spring Break Pool Party was in high attendance at the Renaissance Hotel while competition at the ACE Hotel across town hosted Muscle Bears and inked studs with buzzed heads and nipple rings. The average age of White Party attendees is closer to 25 than 45 so if young boys who could use some good eating over sweaty dancing attract you, sign up now and grab the decent weekend package prices early!

At the Renaissance on Saturday there were entertainers with back-up dancers and Party Poodles behind designer sunglasses dancing on one another. For being my town, I really only knew three people at this party. I was surprised. But, it was only a taste of things to come. I literally spoke to no one and in return, no one spoke to me. It was like I had gotten inside but was still looking in from the outside. Some kid thought I was Security. It was definitely a eye-opening experience. I don’t want it to sound like I’m a victim because obviously I am not. But the circuit can be a very lonely place if you are attending single. Everyone was in groups and they were tight. I don’t sugarcoat things so I’m telling you like it is.

Saturday evening was the big event the White Party and was held at the Palm Springs Convention Center. I took a nap after dinner because I haven’t gone out dancing in quite a while and needed some steam to stay out. Unfortunately I was only provided access to one pass so my husband stayed home, again. Dressed in a white Versace shirt with gold Medusa buttons and sexy jeans and motorcycle boots, I was ready to tear up the dance floor.

I arrived around 11 p.m. and strutted up to the door with a great attitude to go and my fully-charge iPhone to chat my buddy Jack Ryan up during lulls in the evening. And for those alone moments I didn’t want to spend alone. When I walked in, porn directrix and DJ Chi Chi LaRue was spinning the entire Britney Spears and Lady Gaga catalogue for her followers and shirtless sweaty sexy boys were winding through the corridors and doorways to the heavy bass penetrating from within the main room. As I entered the room I was transported to every circuit party I’ve ever been to. The thrill of the unknown and the comfort of the predictable gave me that feeling.

My spots on the dance floor are always near the outskirts and corners. It’s where I have always planted myself. I can’t stand being in the middle of the hoards. One plus about going alone, I was able to walk away at anytime, change places in the room and not have to answer to one person. Control freak, that’s me. I ran into a handful of people I knew but at the same time admittedly wasn’t looking for anyone in particular. Swedish pop sensation Robyn was headlining and entertained the crowds around 2:15 a.m. while very random performances from the Las Vegas production of Zumanity hit the stage.

I jumped over to the Tea Dance right after dark on Sunday. Again, I was in the mood for some dancing figuring I’d see many more people I knew from the gym since it has been the event the locals attend every year over the other choices. By the time I arrived, of course, the kids had been going all weekend and were sloppy and somehow found themselves bumping into me when I wasn’t near anyone. “Come down, girl. Find a map,” I told one of them. No judgment from this soapbox since I have in fact been there behind blown pupils, rolling eyes and grinding teeth. But it is quite a different scene sober.

After some good dancing to the rocking Freemasons while positioned in various open spaces underneath the clear starry sky, I still didn’t see many people I knew. Dance recording artist Alexis Jordan sang her three smash hits and I decided that since there was no line at the Ferris Wheel it was a perfect time to catch a ride before the fireworks.

I walked up to the gate and stuck one finger up smiling. Translation: I want to ride and yes, I’m alone. The guy shook his head no and said I needed someone else because he couldn’t let only one rider get in. At first, I thought I misunderstood him. But no. I mentioned something like “After all the money I paid?! This is bullshit!” Which it was. (He didn’t need to know I’m a brilliant writer who didn’t and shouldn’t pay.)

Luckily, the fireworks started and caught my attention with something loud and sparkly because I was about to snap on his ass. The fireworks were spectacular! I suppose that’s where most of the $130 ticket prices went towards since drinks were $12 by Belvedere which I’m sure was underwritten by the vodka company since their logo was splashed everywhere all weekend. I paid $20 to get a double-shot in my juice on Saturday and when the girl asked if I wanted more juice, I replied, “Um, no."

Personal feelings aside (as the devil and angel sitting on my shoulders duke it out), party promoter Jeffrey Sanker delivers the elaborate yearly production to the hungry and desperate masses while charging a small fortune to attend and making one in the process. The annual event comes to town every April and always brings with it great revenue to our city and much-needed boost of energy to our often-quiet desert town.

However, there’s a word that has become synonymous with Sanker’s name and it’s not tweed. History speaks for itself, and I only report what I see and observe when able. I encourage everyone to attend it at least once so you can make your own judgment call and will perhaps find it overwhelmingly fantastic and desperate to return next year. But, if you make plans to come, make plans to spend money. At the end of the day, I can’t help but wonder how much is too much?! And further more, I know it takes money to put this event on but what exactly are you getting for your money and who exactly benefits?!

2011 © PULP