Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Put on a red light...

We were heading to the elevator inside Steve’s Bar Room on Connecticut Avenue, when the Police’s “Roxanne” blasted over the stereo. The six of us jumped out of the elevator and ran to the dancefloor.

We danced together and sang at the top of our lungs. Angie pretended her hand was a mike and did duets with everyone singing, “…put on a red light, put on a red light.”

By the time we were done, club owner Steve liked our routine so much he bought us a round of champagne with a cherry in each glass. Steve’s is my kind of place, posh, but not stuffy. It has a flat screen TV in the main area and long bar. There’s also a back area where you can get away. The vibe there was more relaxed than Indebleu. On this Sunday, the DJ played good ’80s music such as “Roxanne.”

Mojito mojo

If my friend Angie had told me the mojito was going to cost $15, I wouldn’t have ordered it. I would have also missed out on one of the yummiest drinks ever – a blackberry mojito at Washington’s Indebleu.

Indebleu was the first Washington stop of my night on the town with Renee, Angie and Kecia on Sunday. Kecia’s girl rented a limo to celebrate her birthday so we went barhopping in D.C.

Angie raved about Indebleu’s blackberry mojito. We still haven't figured out what was in it, but we're sure about real blackberries and mint. The drink was so good that Angie and Renee finished their drinks and then went around drinking everyone else's behind their backs. At one point, Renee threatened to suck her ice cubes.

Indebleu is a one-drink stop. It’s too stuffy for my taste, but the music was downtempo soulful house. Indebleu is a fine dining restaurant with a lounge and bar downstairs, and dining upstairs. The place is phat. We couldn’t sit in the lounge because of a private party, but we peeked over the velvet rope. The custom sofas were vibrant oranges and red with throw pillows that complement the wooden tables and stools. If you go, stop by the bathroom. The sinks are concrete slabs with cool faucets.

Back at Black Gay Pride

In my college and post college years, I looked forward to Black Gay Pride in D.C. It was Memorial Day weekend and my birthday weekend. It was my four days to hang with my folks during the day and kick it hard at night with my girl Lori.
I haven’t gone to Pride in the last couple of years though because the partiers seemed to get younger and younger and I have less patience for long lines and high cover charges. This year, I went since my girlfriend hadn’t gone in almost a decade.
Friday night felt like old times. We went to Fur nightclub and there was no line. The crowd was a good mix of young and old with a little eye candy. Go-go dancers grooved on the stage, which was the VIP area and two bars made the wait for cocktails short.
The music was a decent mix of hip-hop and old school go-go. I caught up with an old buddy I used to party with in Columbia, S.C., and one I hung with in D.C. back in the ’90s. My girl and I danced the night away. Other than a spilled drink on my girl’s shirt, the night was all good.
Saturday was a different story.
Something told me to stay home that night. I was tired after celebrating my brother’s college graduation with my family, but I have a hard time resisting a party. At first, everything at the Tunnel nightclub was gravy. We arrived about 11:30 p.m. and the club wasn’t too congested. Again, the crowd was ages. The only problem was the music. It sounded as if the subwoofer was going bad, but I’m not sure if that was worse or the half-hour impromptu comedy routine by the MCs. They killed time while technicians worked on the sound, but they also killed my mood.
By the time they decided to move us from the main dancefloor to a backroom, I was ready to go.
On Sunday, we went to the Black Gay Pride Festival at 9th and H Street. Initially, I was excited that the main event moved back outdoors after years inside the MCI Convention Center. Years ago, the festival was at Banneker Field near Howard University, but rainouts prompted organizers to move it inside.
I hoped the move outside would make the festival like old times with men walking around in bikinis and couples and friends sitting on blankets people-watching. It wasn’t. The new location was a parking lot and it was so hot even the devil would’ve asked for an ice cube.
Did you got to D.C. this weekend? If so, what did you think?