Once upon a time, in a large U.S. city, two friends decided to follow up an outstanding evening from two months earlier with a dinner and dancing night on the town.  Specific areas of Washington DC are very friendly and accepting places for all types of "alternative" lifestyle people. I guess Cerise and I qualify in that regard, as two women who spend a lot of our waking hours in the guise of two responsible men. It is always something of a challenge to slip into the world and be treated with dignity. A bonus is when you are able to so successfully integrate that you are afforded special treatment, even if you are "read" as someone other than you appear.

One of the more amazing things about our Saturday adventure to the Dupont Circle area of northwest Washington was the level of acceptance at every venue. Cerise had made a reservation at Gabriel for 8:30. This is a smallish restaurant connected with the Radisson hotel that specializes in Latin American cuisine, especially the dishes of Brazil. We were seated at a booth off toward one side where, while we could be seen, we were able to observe people's reactions at the other tables...or perhaps make note of the fact that there was no real reaction to us. Instead of causing any kind of stir we were treated just as any other two women friends would have been on a Saturday night at a nice place. Particularly the wait staff was very attentive, but not objectionably so, rather sensing when we needed something and not in our faces.

Time seemed to fly by. Of course a few caipirinhas, tropical drinks much like a daiquiri, dulls some of the sensation of time passing. Our peace was interrupted by a call on Cerise's cell. Not wanting to answer it, maybe because it seems so rude to just start talking on the phone at the table, she checked to see who had called and it turned out the call came from New York. As we finished dinner and left the restaurant Cerise spied a pay phone and decided to call. I amused myself by going out of the hotel onto the street. A lot of people were out at this "early prime time" of the night. Here again we just sort of blended into the street scene. Couples of all sorts were mingling and walking from one spot to the next. Many clubs and restaurants line the streets here, both straight and alternative. Our plan was to walk about a block to Badlands, a dance club that has a different rotating theme depending on the day of the week. Tonight was to be the start of the "Liquid Ladies" dance parties...advertised as "a weekly dance event for the women of Washington and their friends."

The first run of the gauntlet was to show ID and pay the cover charge. Both Cerise or I were old enough to be the bouncer's gran, but nevertheless rules are rules. At least we were accorded proper pronoun status. Soon we were directed to the upstairs video lounge. First impressions stay with you, and one impression was that compared to many other alternative clubs it didn't seem nearly as smoky, with only a few patrons "lit up." The other thing you noticed immediately was that the pitch of conversation was in a higher register, and animated and almost melodic, rising above the pounding sound of the videos. The content of the videos themselves was suggestive but not overly so, with a definite lesbian theme. The dress of the clientele was from all ends of the horizon: from very butch to lipstick fem, and all manner in between. Dominating was the preppy look with extremely short hair, which in the extreme gave the appearance of a gang of older teen boys. Girls just want to have fun, as the song goes.

At 10:30 the downstairs dance venue opened, and so there was beeline waiting on the stairs to go in. No ID check here, as our hands had been previously stamped with UV ink. We grabbed a table just next to the bar at the edge of the dance floor and got a couple of sea breezes. Near us were an older lesbian couple, and a group of three twentysomethings dressed as you would see many other mainstream young women, in dark tank tops and jeans. Fancy drinks did not seem "in" with this crowd, as the beverage of preference was beer and Bud in bottles the far and away favorite. The music's volume began to rise and people started to head for the dance floor. The music itself was a mix of popular and club mix, heavy on the techno but punctuated with things more melodic, if you can call Britney melodic. I guess if I had to delineate all the "liquid ladies" there were many dressed butch, the second largest group dressed androgynously, the third "straight" as in like any woman you would see on the street, and the smallest group really "dressed" in fancy fem. I suppose Cerise and I fit into the latter category, but we didn't feel out of place. As we finished our drinks we headed for the dance floor, which by now was crowded. As the incessant thrumming of the bass in the music shook us we joined the mass sea of motion.

A spinning light ball, strobe lights, and the mist from dry ice filled the space, creating an almost picture like visual effect as we glanced around the dance floor. Seemingly there was no outward manipulation and game-playing going on although it was probably happening on the periphery. All these young women just seemed to be out for a good time. At this early stage of the evening, friends and acquaintances were just being themselves, or maybe a "version" of themselves that was more boisterous, outgoing, and decidedly less reserved than usual. I certainly felt comfortable there as a woman, maybe with a more unusual "past history" than the others there. Although I interacted more with the wait staff and bartender I didn't very much with the ladies in the crowd. It was still an exciting experience. Perhaps the level of acceptance from the other women was the plus, from standing in line to sharing observations as Cerise and I were leaving, connecting on a different ('member of the tribe') level. I know it was a big plus not having to worry about fighting off "admirers" as I suspect would have been the case at a more conventional "drag" venue such as Chaos or Ziegfields. Time seemed to fly by and although the party was just really swinging when we left around 12:30, we had had enough fun with the girls for one night. It was a short taxi ride home, and a chance to compare notes and think about what we had done. All in all it was not a bad night for a couple of part time women who were queens for a night.
© 2002 by Andee W