In less than a week, I will enter my 33rd year upon this sphere.
I have been trying and trying to figure out how the hell to celebrate. A couple months ago I had the most brilliant idea anyone’s had since slicing bread: I would invite everybody I knew to join me at the Roxy, a local gay bar, for Roller Disco. It was perfect: roller disco night is on Wednesday, as is my birthday, and what better way to celebrate my imminent entry into senility and decrepitude than with a return to the birthday ritual of my youth, the gayest birthday ritual of them all, the roller skating party?
I got very, very excited; I spent hours combing the internet for photographs with which to construct my own fabulous evite. It would be divine: my nearest and dearest, as well as the not so near and perhaps even the not so dear (because a present is, regardless of the source, still a present) would all congregate in a tacky bar in Chelsea and roller skate in my honor to “We Will Rock You” and “Dancing Queen.”
E.S. kept insisting that we go to Roller Disco at some point before I actually issued any invitations, just to make sure it was, if not everything I hoped it would be, at least close. Scoffing at the thought that it could be anything short of perfect, I nevertheless agreed to his suggestions just so he would stop nagging me. So a few weeks ago, we walked over to 10th Avenue, rented our skates–shades of 1982!–and went inside.
To be greeted by the sight of a huge room full of straight people roller skating.
Full of skanky straight people roller skating.
Honestly, it was as if the entire population of Hackensack had been magically teleported into the Roxy and given orders to skate as slowly as they possibly could. There were two people in clown outfits roller skating in slow motion.
And I thought, wasn’t it enough that you stole pierced ears and freedom rings from us? You had to take roller skating, too?
I almost started to cry. Why does reality have to puncture all my dreams so cruelly? Can’t she leave one or two untouched until they float, gently, to the ground, like helium balloons three days after the party is over?
At first I thought I might be able to make it work anyway, and that with enough of my friends in attendance, the place would be forced to acquire a sense of irony. But then the clowns skated past me, still in slow motion, and I realized that there are some things that just aren’t meant to be.
We skated for about fifteen minutes more, but our hearts just weren’t in it, so we left, defeated.
For what it’s worth, if you’re reading this, please know that you were almost invited to my birthday party.
Marc and I would have been honored to be in attendance. In the alternative, is there an Amazon wish list, or some such registry, from which we may select a gift?
This post does raise a couple of questions:
1) If you’re entering your 33rd year, does this mean you’ll be turning 32?
2) Do you think those whom you would have invited would have been able to keep up to the levels of participation you might expect? Or might the crunching of old bones have ensued? (I, for one, know that I am older and much heavier than I was the last time I strapped on skates (we’re not all as fabulously fit as you–and, in my case… oh, never mind). The crash that might ensue were I to participate could be worthy of the Wide (no pun intended) World of Sports.)
Oh well. Sorry the party didn’t work out, but please accept our wishes for a very happy birthday!
Roller Disco party idea – Good.
Room full of skanky Hackensack-esque straight people on skates – Bad.
Room full of gay men dressed as Wonder Woman ridding the room of the skanks by clocking them with their deflector bracelets – Priceless.
[cue Wonder Woman theme]
I suspect that if you had invited all your friends to Roller Disco, it the Roxy would quickly BECOME the gayest place on Earth!
Were they real skates, or blades?
happy bday in advance! i went eeks when i read this. my twin and i turn 33 this saturday (and we are both in love with you).
I’ve had a pair of roller skates (not blades, skates, white faux leather, begging for pom-poms) and have been practicing by going back and forth on the front porch, with my headphones playing “Mickey” and “Rio”. I had a much different center of gravity 20 years ago! I am almost secure enough to try the bank parking lot next…
Your duty is to introduce the NEXT gayest-thing-ever for us to enjoy–and for future generations of clueless straight people to expropriate.
Jess: I am e-mailing you the registry information you requested. As far as the questions: Yes, I am indeed turning 32. And remember that my boyfriend is a doctor, and so he would have been on hand to, um, succor anybody in need of assistance.
Marc: You almost make me want to have the party anyway.
Adam875: I think the power of the skanky ones might have given even my friends a run for their money. And it was about half and half, which horrified me–why would anybody wear roller blades to roller disco?
Azura: Happy birthday to you two too! And I would be in love with you if there were any way at all around this whole “boyfriend” thing.
Monica: Maybe we can have the party on your front porch? As long as you provide the music.
i. bendito: Yes, but if it were up to me, the next gayest thing ever would be the bloody decapitation of one’s enemies.
Would it be terribly uncool for me to say I was somewhat relieved that the party-to-end-all-parties fell through simply because I cannot skate to save my skin?
Then again, perhaps such a point was not worth mentioning since I neither
A. know you, or
B. live near the New York City area.
But, just the same, have a wonderous and satisfying birthday celebration. And, just as important, enjoy your thirty-third year upon this sphere.
Being somewhat of a social loser in jr high school, I hated going skating but went anyhow. I now know my loser status was due to my then hesitant sexuality – I always wanted to skate with GIRLS, not boys. If you did have a skating party I’d be allowed to skate with girls right?
I would like to champion pole dancing lessons… i went to a friend’s b’day party this weekend and she booked for pole dancing lessons… it was a scream and you could drink while doing it… it’s a lot harder than it looks… have a great one!
Happy Birthday to you Fautus!!!
am i invited too? or should i crash teh party?
Thanks for the head’s up on Roller Disco. I’d always wanted to go, but….
Fucking shit.
a third gender has come out. entertainment enjoy 32ness while it is still yours.
Happy birthday! Sorry the bash wasn’t what you envisioned.
Faustus: You, rollerskates, hot pants, tank top, and matching head/wristbands.
Hot.
Maybe some big bushy facial hair, too.
Darling, actual roller disco was ALWAYS the province of skanky heterosexuals.
DRESSING for roller disco and then going to an actual disco was what the homosexualists were doing in the late 70s and early 80s.
You are just too young to remember it. I, on the other hand, spent a great part of my teenage years drinking illegally at The Male Box in Worcester, Massachusetts, enjoying the company of buff clones in tight satin gym shorts and the men who loved them.
One of the dis/advantages of rollerskating on the porch is that one learns just how much the porch slopes. Of course, in New Orleans, I think it’s supposed to slope on purpose (so the rain goes away from the house).
But it’s always open for skating–come on by!
Well, maybe next year.
Big hairy muscle birthday hugs. Sometimes the best laid plans go a little haywire. You still got that woofy bod. Take care.
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