On high weekends such as this we open our house to all of the housemates -although no dogs or children allowed- and we easily top 10 to 12 people. Normally you might think that would be a problem, but the majority of our house is made up of single girls who often prefer to sleep elsewhere. Saturday afternoon finds our house in a flurry of activity as we burn, rip, hem, drape, duct tape and staple to reach the desired effect. Remember it’s always a challenge to put together an outfit that will stand up through the night, grab the attention of some dark stranger and at the same time not look as though you came off the set of “Camelot”.

So, after a light dinner of chicken breast and salad- definitely no carbs- and three or more Vodka Red Bulls (hey, it takes liquid courage to wear a loincloth) we make our way to the party around midnight. As you approach the Beach you can hear the pounding of the music in your chest and as you cross the boardwalk and it is a sprawling, light dazzled small village on the beach that greets your eyes.

The housemates and I generally stick together for a few rotations but then we quickly adopt the ”Divide and Conquer” mentality throughout the rest of the night as we wind our way through the VIP booths with men of a certain age, flirt with the cute volunteer bartenders, dance with hot muscle guys on the dance floor, pose with Porsche and the other drag queens, and make out with slender Latinos sprawled on the benches and sofas scattered throughout the party.

And, as the first light of dawn begins to brighten the beach you will find yourself in the arms of someone warm and sexy as the DJ spins “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”.

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Housemates are clearly divided into the camps of cooking and cleaning and those who can cook quickly learn that if you can get out early on a Friday and take responsibility for that meal you are absolved of further kitchen details during the weekend. Also note that the bar for Friday night cooking is much lower than the Saturday main event, whereas you can get by with an over the counter Barbeque Chicken from the Pines Pantry and not be questioned.

Alas, some housemates are over-served Planters Punches and do not always heed the internal clock and decide the guy they are making out with at High Tea deserve their utmost attention. These are the ones who turn up mid dinner wearing someone else’s T-Shirt and end up eating the chicken wings and who load the dishwasher as penance.

And, of course then there are the meals themselves.

• None of my housemates can look at an Edamame Bean squarely and not remember the infamous “Edimame Bean and Fresh Herb Salad” that certainly hit the spot at 1AM while dancing at Sip N Twirl.  That particular business brought 4 housemates rushing back to the house.
• And anyone who has an aversion to projectile vomiting tries to block their mind from the chicken skewers that had a mere passing encounter with the grill that was not noticed until the last one was eaten
• Mandatory drag dinners pose a completely different set of complications which usually don’t involve the actual food. We all fondly remember the drunken guest who stood to make a toast and his Diane Von Furstenberg dress rose with him, revealing no underwear which posed a serious threat to his salad when he leaned over the table.
• Occasionally visiting family members are roped into this vision of togetherness and they rise to the occasion as we discovered when we came home one night to find a housemates mother drinking gin martinis and attempting to light the grill by tossing lite cigarettes into the charcoal.
• And note that drunken Italian cooks who incidentally cook badly tend to take it especially hard and sit at the table weeping when say a pork chop chars in the searing heat and flys off the table when a diner attempts to cut it with a knife

So if you are visiting the Island and do not possess the skills of Rachel Ray or Martha Stewart and do not want to find yourself as a kitchen slave then land yourself a guy at low tea and head to Top of the Bay, The Pines Bistro or Jumpin Jacks to name a few. Like the guys- the options are limitless!

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The main event though are the Teas. During high summer that means three different DJs and plenty of Planters Punches flowing during Low at the Blue Whale, High on the upper deck of the Pavilion, and Middle in the Pavilion. Our house has the divide and conquer mentality and attends each of them with equal vigor, although sometimes blurred by too many Planters Punches before finally making it home in time to burn something on the grill.

After last Saturday’s dinner of dry Pork Chops a couple of us decided to see what Sip N Twirl had to offer. On the five minute walk to the harbor we could see lighting and hear the rumble of thunder across the Great South Bay. We quickened our pace as the trees began to sway from the wind and by the time we reached the outside deck of the bar our T-shirts chosen with such great deliberation only minutes ago were now thoroughly soaked from the rain. Needless to say it was the epitome of a bad hair day.

After bursting through the doors along with two equally drenched girls, with worse hair problems, we entered a room that had the look of a hurricane party and the driving rain and awnings that looked ready to take flight provided all the drama needed. The cast of stranded characters included the already shirtless Muscle Boys drinking Red Bull and  waiting around for DJ Abel to make his Pavilion appearance, the gentlemen of a certain age nursing their Chardonnays under the now water dripping sky lights, the drunk 20 somethings who had been there since Tea and still sporting brightly colored sunglasses and a group of nervously laughing women wearing Sarongs and sandals. Realizing we needed substance and possibly needing to get away from these large windows we headed straight for the bar. Obviously this locked down crowd was good for business as Patrick, PJ and Tommy were a continuous blur of Martini Glasses, Vodka bottles and Shakers.

Two Jack Daniels on the rocks later and the removable of one wet T-shirt- I have a shaved head so I had escaped the hair disaster that had sent one housemate fleeing back to the elements- found me on a packed Dance Floor dancing to Beyonce’s Halo.  As the rain pounded against the windows which were now steamed over from the locked down bar full of sweating bodies pressed against one another I had never felt so warm and safe.

Of course that could have also been the hot Muscle Bear with a stunning smile, blue eyes and killer goatee who was holding me tight to his chest!

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A long standing tradition in our Share House is the annual Dance on the Bay produced by the Fund in the Sun and largely benefits the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Community Center in New York City. This dance is traditionally held at a spectacular home overlooking the Great South Bay where a dance floor is constructed that extends onto the Bay. A word to the wise though to stay clear of the side of the dance floor as Rogue Waves from the bay tend to swamp you if you happen to find yourself making out with someone at the railing. After a day of dancing and sweating at the Invasion the housemates and I pulled ourselves together with a few Red Bull and Vodka’s, our tightest tank tops and Canal Street sunglasses and hit the party. The sun was high and DJ Joe Gauthreaux was rolling the music as we made our way across the wet dance floor to take in the spectacular view of the bay. As with any circuit type party arriving early is akin to being at a fraternity mixer where you can admire your friends tank tops and beach jewelry and more importantly scope out the men in broad daylight where you can get a good look at them.

Feeling the need for more social lubrication and expecting a long night I was ordering yet another Red Bull Vodka and throwing myself upon the cute volunteer bartender when the guy in line behind me said “make it two” and dropped a five dollar tip in the bowl. After a few words on the DJ and my smile I found myself with drink in hand standing by the railing of the dance floor (see above Rogue Wave comments) with a hot Puerto Rican dentist and totally immersed in his brown eyes and brown goatee. And again (see above Rogue Wave comments) I found myself watching the spectacular sunset across the bay on the dock of the house next door in wet cargo shorts, barefoot and shirtless while being held by the strong, hairy arms of the dentist. And to think that the real Fireworks were still hours away!

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Well This past Friday seemed like an Underwear blow-out. Ummm maybe not a good way to describe it.

The Underwear season kicked off with none other than a Marching Band! yup that’s rite an actual parade marching band, including trumpets, drums and costumes.
The Marching band idea came from the minds of The Ice Palace in Cherry grove, led by the proclaimed “PANTY CHRIST” Daniel Nardicio.

Daniel Nardicio is the original creator of the Fire Island Underwear party in cherry Grove. Many of us remember going to Tides on Fridays to dance around in out tighty whiteys.
Well Nardicio was invited last season by the Marketing/Promotions director Tony @ The Ice Palace, to bring all the fun and shenanigans to the palace. I am sure everyone remember last years huge
night when Lady Gaga took the stage for her very first live appearance. Yup The Ice Palace can say “She started here” and it was at Nardicio’s underwear party. Marketing/Promotions director Tony says ” I love working with Daniel, we both have the same demented sense of humor and its nice working with someone you can genuinely call a friend”

We all decided to water taxi it over to the grove and to our happiness it was a great decision, the place was packed! We Love the Ice Palace and especially when its busy.
I think the main reason we enjoy it, is due to its lack of pretentiousness. Its the type of place where you can be happy knowing your not perfect or pretending to be.
we were delighted to see Dj Aaron Elvis spinning and he was totally on point with his music. There were so many hot guys in fab underwear some provided by freshpair.com. one of the highlights was show host Bianca Delrio (sadly she was “let go” by pines management) We LOVE HER ! We make it a point to visit her when ever we are in New Orleans. So Bianca gave everyone her famed F*ck you attitude and was slightly tight lipped about her departure from the Pines operation. “He can kiss my ass” referring to former pines boss is all she felt like saying. So Bianca got a ton of HOT bois on stage for what was probably her most insane hot underwear contest we have ever seen her host. On a side note, we were thrilled that drink prices were very reasonable $8 Absolut Mango and seven up. We didn’t realize how expensive pines partying becomes @ $10+ bucks a drink at low & high tea. So we got to meet some hot porn stars and we even got an upclose demonstration of this new electric fleshjack thing..YUMMY. We really enjoyed ourselves, and from the looks of the place everyone else did too.
We decided to check out the Pavilion Underwear party on the way back, When we go to the door there was a $20 cover charge which kind of soured some of my tag-alongs, being the FireFlyBoi that I am I handed over the bucks and walked in. Ok now I feel really bad about being a bitch but REALLY? do we all need to get strep throat and pneumonia? I am wearing a tiny pair of Versace briefs and its still over 150 degrees in the place. Luckily I was able to do an exit stage left and chill by the back door. The party was packed and yes the bois were hot, actually sweaty was more like it. This underwear party is Very different than the one in the grove. This is more like being at roxy in your underwear, whereas the grove is about the hint of sexuality and provocative fun that many of us city bois love. I think each event can survive without doling out a competitive edge, because they are 2 completely different blueprints of a party. So @ 4am I sauntered home and passed the heck out, I still have 2 more days of fun ahead of me.

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The weather was a fabulous welcome to what seems like a long overdue weekend vacation.

I enjoyed my usual drive to the ferry, with my top down and did the usually stop @ Costco.  I was very excited to see the huge lines at the ferry.  Once on the island I did my usual lap around to see who was home and who had guests.  We all agreed to go to Low Tea@ 7pm.  Low Tea was Very packed and featured KRASH dj Super Dave.  We really enjoyed his set, but it seemed more like a welcoming party than tea.  Next we ventured off to a special version of Middle tea (normally Saturdays) with Dj Vito Fun.  We had so much fun that we hardly were able to catch a glimpse of High Tea.  Vito played all our favorites and even threw in a few of his own. The Pavilion was packed wall to wall which is usual only for their middle teas.  So we all danced like school girls for hours it seemed to fly rite by.   We managed to catch a little bit of High Tea, which has as of lately become not so much fun, its to packed and cant boi cruise from the front to the back.   Regardless the vibe was good and even the ashtray smell walking in didnt bother my hypochondriac friend john as much. We enjoyed  Dj Kevin Graves High tea upbeat flavor. I was stuck in a corner but still managed to dance my butt around some sizzling chelsea boi.  I met many of my city friends who also decided to take advantage of mother natures gift.  After Tea we were invited to Mr. so and so’s house (name held cause she’s a big drama queen about her name) Regardless dinner was a mess because everyone of us were to drunk and exausted from dancing like an episode of high school musical. Mr. so and so usually is well put together about his dinner parties, but gurl let me tell you he just was not having  a steak that was harder than his Prada sport shoes.  I thought it was much better that we moved on to doing shots of Southern comfort and skipped past the shoe leather steaks.  I decided to take a quick dip in the pool, with my new found chelsea boi dance partner from high tea and then go take a little disco nap before heading out to visit all the underwear party’s on the island.  Sadly I never got my lil disco nap, and my new found chelsea boi dance partner was not so lil either …..

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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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After a long and cold New York winter, spring has finally sprung (or sprung a leak it seems – what crummy weather we’ve had so far), and those of us who return to Fire Island each year have by now all made the triumphant voyage across the bay to start yet another season in our own little Brigadoon called Cherry Grove. If you’re like me, after you’ve muttered a bit about the dismal state of the boardwalks, and have gotten your apartment aired out and unpacked, the first question in your mind is: “So what’s up with the bars this year??”

The Cherry Grove bar scene is like a wobbly table in an old diner: it keeps settling on a different leg each year for balance. Places open and close, staffs move from place to place, and the social center of gravity shifts a bit every season. So for chuckles, and so that you won’t have to, I’ll take a stab at setting the metaphorical table a bit for the summer to come.

The first Bar Fact to note is the list of bars that aren’t open. As expected, Sunsets On The Bay remains a deserted skeleton and appears unlikely to re-open any time soon, despite some talk last year of combining it with Island Breeze. Former high-end restaurant/bar Top Of The Bay looks better than it has in years, but unfortunately is not open for business. Rumors fly that there is an ongoing attempt to re-launch it as a “lounge” (which is…what exactly?), but that the permit request process takes eighteen months which, if true, would keep TOTB out of commission for this season and the next.

The wildcard this year seems to be The Tides, which many will continue to think of as “the old Monster.” Although the “Cozy Bar” in the back of the building is open on a hard-to-determine schedule and provides the closest thing Cherry Grove has to an “underground scene,” the second-story tented bar is not yet open, though encouraging signs of life are seen. Twice so far this year, the dance floor in the back of the second floor has been filled with disco lights and blaring music, but not a single soul in sight (DJ included). It’s a Ghost Disco of sorts, but what better place than Cherry Grove to have disco ghosts?

For those bars that are open- Island Breeze, Cherry’s, Jumpin’ Jacks and The Ice Palace – the name of the game this year seems to be “Everybody switch teams!” The normal migration of a bartender here or there has this year become a mass exodus, leaving a seasoned barfly like myself a bit out of sorts.

The staff of the Island Breeze appears to have moved en masse over to the Ice Palace, apparently victims of the strongly held beliefs of Island Breeze’s owner. This freed up space for island vet Diamond Dave (most recently of Jumpin’ Jacks) to take over the bar at the Breeze. I thought that Kenny and his staff had done a great job in years past giving Island Breeze a fun, inviting vibe; it’s too early to tell what Diamond Dave and crew will do with the place, but I can say it has yet to settle into an identifiable scene. A fun new Tiki bar on the front deck of the restaurant gives a kitschy, tropical look to the dock when the ferry comes in, and this new addition is “manned” by Cherry Grove favorite Andi.

Cherry’s continues its renaissance under Jackie and Donna, but runs the risk of being taken for granted after dazzling for the past couple of seasons. Everyone is now used to be it being fun and well run, so in turn we’re not as impressed. But it remains the place to beat in town, and putting Tish behind the bar at the Cherry Pit may finally allow that somewhat hidden venue to stand on its own as a destination.

Jumpin’ Jacks has never been a personal favorite of mine — I file it in my head as an extension of the beach/daytripper scene. But it seems to be doing well when I walk by, if perhaps at a bit of a loss without Diamond Dave anchoring the staff.

That leaves the Ice Palace, always the biggest space in town but, for many of the past seasons, not always the most fun. Although it is still early in the season, I think I’m seeing a bit of a rebirth there. Bar manager John says sales at the bar are up 25% — due partly perhaps to people drinking their recessionary blues away, but also I think to the addition of many of last year’s Island Breeze staff and to the jolt of new energy provided by a gaggle of young drag queens…but more on them later.

All in all, and given the current state of the economy, it looks like a good season ahead in Cherry Grove if we can keep the clouds at bay. Continue to look here for more reports from the front lines!
Clarque Kent
The Only Man Not Getting Laid In Fire Island

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Party Time!

Starting on Friday afternoon and running through the last ferry at Midnight the crowds pour into the Pines and Cherry Grove on Fire Island.  Leaving their chaotic jobs in finance, fashion or floral arranging and the sweaty masses of New York City these brave weekend warriors have either run the marathon of Penn Station and conquered the Hamptons bound hordes on the LIRR Montauk Line for a seat or tested their endurance and nerves with a three hour car trip on the gridlocked LIE.

Their victory is the anticipation of the weekend as they disembark from the ferry toting designer lap dogs, Costco bundles of Charmin, three matching Louis Vuitton bags and a rollaway, plastic Stop n Shop bags bulging with raw chicken and disheveled bundles of flowers for the dining room table.

On a recent Friday evening while catching up with the housemates and three Kettle One Martinis at Sip n Twirl – we were distracted by a handsome Asian guy who was a friend of one of the housemates. After settling in with our group and enjoying a martini he invited us to a house party. Being a disgruntled lot and into their third martinis the rest of the housemates declined, but one of my housemates and I, because we were into our third martini, joined him. The Asian guy turned out to work in fashion- which would likely explain the D-Square T-shirt and Hermes belt and he was not just inviting us to one party but two more were on the agenda and a well known fashion designer was promised to be in attendance. So with our interest peaked and high energy levels, no doubt from the martinis, we arrived at the first party.

This catered affair with shrimp on ice and an actual bartender serving Grey Goose Vodka was a birthday party for the host. It was at a beautiful original home on the Bay and filled with an eclectic mix of Island locals and summer party boys. After a few awkward well wishes I descended upon the bar for some liquid encouragement as well as to meet the handsome older gentlemen also standing there.  He worked in fashion and it turned out we had mutual friends in common. Barely into my second Vodka Tonic my new Asian friend arrived breathlessly and announced we had to leave this very second for the next party- as if it would blast to the moon if we did not immediately appear. My motto is “never leave fun to find fun” and in this case it was free flowing vodka and an intriguing man. However, I was outvoted and promptly whisked to the second party. My first clue that this may be less than stellar was the fact that we needed to stop by the house to pick up some beer. And, as the host “popped” the top off my Heineken on the metal staircase railing, and the crowd of excited 20 something year olds screamed as Lady Gaga’s ”Poker Face” bounced from the Ipod I realized my intuitions were correct. When I emerged from the bathroom and they were dancing on the sofa I decided to make a hasty exit.

As I dove through the crowd for the front door imagine my delight when I reached it the same time as my older gentlemen from Party One. Looking relieved he grabbed my hand,  pushed me through the open door and yelled “Run!” And that we did, all the way back to the well known fashion designer’s home on the Ocean.

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Fire Island Friends!

It’s obviously daylight and from the looks of the sun streaming through the cracks in the blinds and the shrieks of a drag queen outside there is a strong possibility it’s past noon. There is a shooting pain between my eyes and my mouth is as dry as the Sahara. I’m sure this is only from the lack of Starbucks coffee and has nothing to do with the four Kettle One dry martinis- at last count- that I consumed last night at the Ice Palace. It’s also possible that I am in my own house in the Pines but I’m not sure I would have ever bought this striped comforter, however, I do have a greater problem than the orange in this comforter or the sharp piercing between my ears, and that is a hairy arm that is draped across my chest. On further inspection this arm belongs to a dark haired guy lying on his side, sound asleep and whose name completely escapes me. Gingerly, because I’m not sure where my head is going with this one, I remove the arm and sit up in bed. The room looks like backstage at a drag show. Jeans are tumbled in a heap on the floor, a sneaker is in the bathroom, a pair of 2Xist briefs are beside the door and a Tshirt is on the nightstand. Last night begins to come back in quick flashes but not in any logical order. A Strawberry Margaritta at Cherry’s, singing Tammy Wynnette with Porshce at the Ice Palace, making out with someone at the beach. As I sip from a half filled water bottle on the night stand I know that it is not always going to be these one night stands with perfect strangers and eventually I’ll end up in the nuptials Style Section of the New York Times with some handsome beau. And who knows,  this dark haired stranger curled up at my side just might be the one in that photo- or at least through brunch!

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