Hot Mess Express

Since I seem to be wrong about most things in life, these days, it should come as no surprise that the AGALLOCH show last night was totally enjoyable and a great deal of fun. Contrary to what I had expected, the energy was high, the music was completely engrossing and the crowd was surprisingly jovial and friendly. I ran into a lot of familiar faces, and Curtis and I spent the night hopping between the show, and, during the breaks, descending the stairs into the neon-lit gay bar next door, to chug back rum and Cokes and chat with congenial drag queens about their fabulous platform heels. 

I vaguely remember other events, after the show: sitting at the bar in the Bard & Banker and ordering four rum and Cokes at once, for "efficiency", and greedily gobbling down the cardboard-covered-in-cheese atrocity known as Second Slice pizza, before stumbling into a cab. I seem to also recall a terribly animated conversation with the cab driver, in which I insisted that he looked just like a Bollywood star, and sang for him, at top volume, the Ware Guru chant played at every Sikh funeral. 

Of course, today I am paying for last night's indulgences, as I've been nursing an appropriately-epic sized hangover for most of the day.

 Curtis, who has himself dealt with his fair share of problems as of late, leading to his own isolating tendencies, expressed great relief at the fact that he had gotten out last night and actually had a pretty entertaining time. I myself was pretty impressed by how quickly I transitioned back into the world of socialization. I guess I'm not such a hermit, after all.