Raunch. Raunch. Raunch. And everyone loved it.

Kudos to Daniel Nardicio for having those little “$5 off” coupons stuffed into the “Just Us Boys” porn guides that were being handed out at the ferry terminal on the mainland on Friday afternoon; it brought the admission fee to the Ice Palace Underwear Party that he hosts on Friday nights down to $5, and helped pack a young, hot crowd in there for the evening (and straight through till the wee hours of the morning…)

It was a wild night, with some of our favorite professional (and amateur!) porn stars dancing on and around the bar, great music, and delicious drinks. The party was sponsored by three different entities: DirtyBoyVideo.com, FreshPair.com (the first 75 people to enter got cute pairs of underwear!), and the Real Touch sex toy (which one could try out in a private little booth off the side of the dance floor). The Real Touch is a new “4-D” porn toy that simulates on your—member—exactly what is happening on the screen of the porno you’re watching while you wear it. Rosie the Robot, watch out: there some stiff robot competition coming your way (even though every cartoon-watcher knows you’re a lesbian, anyway…)

Around 1am, though, the highlight of the evening—I daresay, possibly the highlight of the entire summer—Sister Narcissus (I am not sure if that’s how you spell it) stepped onto the stage of the Ice Palace. A tall, thin creature, buck-naked from head to toe except for a wildly large Afro wig and a mask, Sister Narcissus pulsed her hips with her back to the audience before turning around to reveal a small tuft of hair between her legs. In time with the music, she pulled off her face mask to reveal a smaller mask just beneath it; then, she reached into the tuft of hair, and pulled out a piece of fabric, which turned out to be a shirt, from inside her. Now, my order may be a little hazy, but the way I remember it is that next came a skirt, then shoes from inside her afro, followed by a scarf or some extremely long piece of fabric pulled out of her backside (if Sister Narcissus’ popularity explodes, I’m going to buy stock in Fleet Enemas), and then a purse, again from inside the afro. She was a living, breathing “‘Mary Poppins’ carpet bag,” pulling 2-foot long surprises from holes I barely knew existed. A stunned audience erupted in cheers as the now-fully-clothed Sister Narcissus exited the stage. Brava to whoever discovered the likes of her. I think Disney should make a musical about her.

As you can tell from all of the details, this party has the nitty-gritty “permission to be wild” that the Pines Underwear Party lacks. If you want to go the low route, I’d highly recommend paying a visit!

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But I digress…I figured I’d check the “Love Shack” 80’s party out, though, as it was being hosted by my new friends Anthony (the manager of Jumpin’ Jack’s), and some of the other boys of the Seafood Shack.

I got there with a few friends at around midnight or so, and the party was pleasantly populated; the music was a great mix of popular dance hits like “How Will I Know?” by Whiteny Houston, and of course, the occasional tribute to the late Michael Jackson, spun by DJ Jon Jon Battles.

The evening had a very cool vibe – lots of cute boys from the Grove and the Pines (if there were any you wanted to get close with but wasn’t sure how to, you could have asked if they wanted to play a round of “Twister;” the game was set up on the back deck of the restaurant, overlooking the ocean).

Delicious Jell-o shots were the special of the night, and a special drag performance by a certain talented Jumpin’ Jack’s bartender was a highlight of the evening, when he, as “Nipples Delight,” performed a sexy cover song to Madonna, who herself used to visit Fire Island years ago.

The “Love Shack” party is a great one, and I’d highly recommend donning your slap-on bracelet and checking this weekly party out.

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The town center was a ghost town when we arrived; so quiet that we could hear the ocean from the minute we stepped off the ferry. I was immediately enveloped in the peaceful serenity that the island’s silence brought.

I took my friend on a “tour” of the Grove, since she had never been here before, and we took the time to explore the entire town and read every bulletin board full of events. I told her about some of the back story of the Grove, and the history behind the abandoned house at the corner of Doctor and Lewis walks—or what the legend behind it is. “History” is a fuzzy word out here, as it implies absolute truth, which, in a place as mystical and magical as the Grove, is hard to pin down.

We took a stroll on the beach and marveled at the completely empty expanse of sand before us before settling on a spot and plopping down for a nap.

“I feel like I’m on vacation, a million miles away from everything,” she said. And I felt like I was on vacation, too, not only from my life in NYC, but also a vacation from the usual weekend life in the Grove, too.

For an entire day there was no pressure to do anything—to drink, to barbeque, or to meet friends arriving on a later ferry. I wasn’t even wearing a watch.

At some point, we fell asleep, and the only thing that woke me up was the jingle of the collar on a small dog that staked out some nearby sand.

As we sensed the approach of dusk, we went to the market and bought some snacks for our cocktail hour, and some items for a late dinner we planned on cooking together.

We decided to go over to the Pines for low tea, and made our way through the deserted meat rack, wondering if there would even be anyone at tea. Lo and behold, there were! A whopping ten people were there! The staff at the Blue Whale hadn’t even cleared the tables and chairs to make room for any dancing. It was such a change of pace from the usual hustle and bustle of those crowded weekend teas.

At first I was disappointed by the lack of people there—I wanted my first-timer friend to experience the fun of a traditional Pines low tea dance. Instead, we stood on the dock nearby and spent time taking gorgeous pictures of the bay and harbor at sunset. She even taught me about some of the features on my camera that I didn’t even know I had.

Whereas I would spend low tea on a weekend trying to get drunk and laid, my friend and I took the time to meet new people and learn about their lives. It was a welcome change. Some of the people we met worked in the Pines; others were schoolteachers whose season had just ended; another used to be the owner of a store that I used to go to as a kid growing up in Brooklyn (it has since closed). We even met someone who asked us on board his yacht, docked in the harbor, for delicious blueberry pina coladas and warm conversation with our new friends.

After sunset, we walked on the beach back to the Grove, and my friend admitted it: she’d fallen in love with Fire Island. Another convert.

We went for a drink at Jumpin’ Jack’s Seafood Shack, where the friendly staff and talented pianist made for a wonderful evening. Rather than watching them rush around and serve drink after drink, as they do on weekends, the weekday atmosphere allowed us all the time to get to know each other and chat. One of them even came back to my apartment with my friend and I for our barbeque.

Today, Friday, people are arriving, and while I initially thought that this would be a welcome relief that would breathe life into a dead beach town, I find myself now wishing it weren’t yet the weekend so that I could have the island “to myself” for just a little bit longer—to get to know more people, to get to sleep on the beach without the disruption of anything but a toy poodle, to get more unobstructed photos of sunsets, to let life just go by.

Luckily, there is still the rest of the summer ahead…

I would highly recommend checking out Fire Island on a weekday. The Grove Hotel’s rates are significantly lower than on the weekends (www.grovehotel.com), and Dune Point offers “Hump Day” Wednesdays, where you can stay the night for free (www.dunepointfireisland.com).

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To the Invasion of the Pines, that is, taking place on Saturday, July 4th, 2009. And neither my friends nor I can wait to step into our gowns and spread that makeup all over our faces.

And oh, the possibilities!! Deciding on a persona is a huge task: do I go as the Asian goddess Miss Wun Hung Lo, the patriotic diva Bertha Venation, or my girl from the South Bronx, Ida Killdabitch? Perhaps a musical theatre-obsessed Indian lady, Ahwant Singh? Or do I stick with something simple, like Ginger Vitis or Liss Terine?

Ugh…the choices…

Well, no matter WHAT name I (or my friends) choose, for the greatest possible gay and lesbian Independence Day in the world, we know that Fire Island is the place to be. Nothing says “I love this country!” (or “F*ck you, establishment!”, depending on how you look at it) more than a 6’3 bear putting on pumps and a china silk ball gown.

This year marks the 34th annual Invasion, which was started in 1976 by the now infamous drag queen Panzi (Thom Hansen), who, as legend has it, organized a group of 9 drag queens to “invade” the Pines by water taxi, determined to raise hell as a reaction to one drag queen’s not being served at the conservative Botel. You can read more about the history of the Invasion at www.fireislandinvasion.com.

The event gears up two weeks in advance, when the Ice Palace in Cherry Grove puts on its annual “drag tag” sale, for those still searching for ideas about what to wear for the main event. A bargain basement of women’s clothes and accessories (all in mens sizes, naturally), it took place today (June 21, 2009), and great deals were to be had: wigs for $1 each; silver size 14W heels for $10; a stunning taffeta gown with intricate, elegant beading, designed and built by the incomparable (and wonderfully sweet) costume designer Jeffrey Wallach for $100 (and worth every penny for the lucky person that bought it!) And the best part of it is all of the money raised goes to Cherry Grove charity.

On July 4th, people rise and shine early! You can sense the excitement in the air, and most people are dressed and ready to go by eleven thirty in the morning, when they make their way to the town center of Cherry Grove and convene at the Ice Palace. Last year, a team of “Drag Repair” volunteers were on hand with tissues, Q-tips, lip and eye liner, and of course, mirrors, to help the drag queens out with fixes and finishing touches for their makeup and wigs. After an hour or so, all of the drag queens (usually around 250) board the ferry (last year, the ferry fare benefited the Cherry Grove Property Owner’s Association) and ride over to the Pines. The boat arrives around 2pm, and the harbor, packed shoulder to shoulder with people, cheers! Panzi announces each drag queen by name as they disembark the ferry and parade towards the Sip and Twirl, where they drink for free for the rest of the afternoon.

I’m sure this year is going to be a great one, so if you haven’t yet, start planning your outfit (be sure to wear sensible shoes) and I’ll see you on board the ferry!

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I didn’t think I’d ever summon up the courage to step into the lion’s den of body-beautiful Pines boys and strip down to (nearly) nothing—but that’s just what I did this past Friday night at the Fire Island Pines Underwear Party.

I didn’t even know that underwear parties existed until last year when, on a warm Friday night in Cherry Grove, as I waited for a friend to arrive on the next ferry, I took a walk from my share house to the Cozy Bar at The Tides, right near the Ice Palace. I was walking in the door and was stopped and told I’d have to check my clothes. I turned around and walked out. There was NO WAY I was going to sit at a bar in my skivvies. After a bottle of wine with my friend, however, we found ourselves curious about what was going on over at the Cozy Bar, so, off came the tightie whities and on went the 2xist—and a crew neck T-shirt for good measure. (I barely take my shirt off at the beach! Even though I’m only a 33 waist and know that I’m not fat, I am a former 41 waist, and that, my friends, is the secret to keeping a therapist in business.). My friend and I wound up having a great time (he came home with more money than he left with—and doesn’t remember how or why…), but when someone told us about an equally fun party in the Pines also going on last season, we adamantly shook our heads and vowed not to go. Wearing your underwear in public in Cherry Grove is one thing; in the Pines, it’s quite another.

Maybe it was the seductive marketing on the 2009 Pines website, maybe it was the fact that we had heard great things about the DJ spinning that night, or maybe it was just the challenge of trying to pass off my newest bargain, a $6 pair of Old Navy Boxer Briefs, as “cute,” but I don’t know what possessed a friend and I to journey through the meat rack, sans flashlight, at 11:30pm last week.

Draining the last of the courage that was left in our big red “road-soda” cups, we hiked up our shorts (realizing all-too-well that in a matter of moments they’d be un-hiked) and headed upstairs to the Pavilion.

When we got there, we wondered if we were in the right place. Everyone was standing around fully-clothed. “Phew,” I thought, “I guess they cancelled the underwear party.” And then I saw the clothes check at the other side of the bar, where a golden-browned, expertly groomed bartender with a waist the same size as someone who might enjoy visiting American Girl Place, will make you feel perfectly inadequate by taking your pants and stuffing them in a bag. All that for a mere $2! What a bargain!

But we’d braved the meat rack and weren’t about to quit now. So we checked our clothes, and our inhibitions (ok, fine, I kept my crew neck T-shirt on…) and started dancing.

The place filled up fairly quickly – by 1am, the music was really going with a string of popular mixes characteristic of dancing gay boys (“Let Me Think About It” by Ida Corr, for example, and a Whitney Houston tune for good measure), and everyone was having a really great time, myself included.

A couple of guys came up to me and pulled my shirt off and I actually surprised myself by not putting it back on! The atmosphere felt comfortable enough for me to leave it off. The guys even bought me a drink or six to congratulate me!

Now, one characteristic of the Pines Underwear Party (a.k.a. “Flash Me Fridays”) is that if you flash the bartender or a cocktail waiter, you get one free shot or a pair of new underwear. When I saw the boy next to me do it, and what he had to offer the bartender (that thing was so shriveled that I mistook it for Estelle Getty), I asked myself what I had to lose, and by 3am, I had procured for myself two tequila shots and a pair of glittery Ginch Gonch boxer briefs (take that Old Navy! And Estelle Getty-boy!).

Overall, I must say that I was pleasantly surprised by the Pines Underwear Party: lots of cute guys, a very chill vibe, and surprisingly little attitude. The party itself (aside from the flashing, of course) was tame compared to the somewhat “raunchier” one in the Grove (I have yet to visit that one this season, but rest assured I’ll do a piece on it when I do). If you’re looking for a “back room” kind of environment, this isn’t the party for you. If you’re looking for a fun-filled evening on the relatively cheap (no cover, $2 clothes check, but expensive drinks…) with great music, then I would definitely recommend checking it out!

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