Sunday, October 03, 2004
Last night, I went with a couple of friends to a gay bar near Plaza Garibaldi, here in the D.F. Garibaldi is something else itself. For blocks around the plaza, mariachis stand on corners and run along side cars trying to get a gig. They can get pretty aggressive, nearly jumping on hoods.
In any case, the bar was a small hole in the wall (named El 33). The walls were painted a garish turquoise with bright red trim. The waiters wore tired tuxedo shirts and jackets that always seems to be askew. There were several young, nervous transvestites, and several tough guys drinking steadily. It was a friend-of-a-friend's birthday, and he had chosen the place. My friend and I spent most of the evening talking to each other, while she surrupticiously checked out the vesties behind me. It wasn't a place that a foreigner should go to alone. After a while, three of us girls left for another bar named Millan. It was a nice mix of age, class, and identity. The music ranged from Los Fabulous Cadillacs to Guns and Roses to 60s surf to De la Soul. No porn shades (thank heavens).
posted by Michelle @ 12:26 PM,