On what normally might be a sleepy summer weeknight, last night was wide awake in the streets of West Hollywood. Prop 8 was overturned in California yesterday, and the gay community is not known for missing an opportunity to party. Packed clubs were pulsing with hugs, smiles, and the celebratory clanks of margarita toasts. Several news crews arrived in attempts to capture the infectious feeling of acceptance and triumph that was alive in the disco ball illuminated evening.
There were male go-go dancers oiled up in their skivies and a man in assless pleather pants dripping hot wax on a tied up guy wearing only his underwear. Which actually is an accurate description of any random Wednesday night at a gay bar on Santa Monica Blvd. But this wasn’t just like any other night. People were there to party with a purpose. Inhibitions were gone and invigorated strangers were laughing and dancing with each other. One baby-faced boy called me Alice in Wonderland, and I honestly felt just like that doe-eyed fairytale blonde, and I didn’t want leave the liberated rabbit hole.