Is Fire Island a gay beach resort? This is a question we get often, and the answer is no.

As our friends at FireIsland.com point out:

“This is one of the most commonly asked questions and the greatest misconception about Fire Island. As seen on the Fire Island map, there are 17 different resort communities on the Island. Similar to Cape Cod’s Provincetown, Fire Island has two LGBT communities: Cherry Grove and Fire Island Pines. Although these villages are widely recognized as gay friendly, they are welcome to all and visited by many”

So over the years the Gay Travel sites and LGBT travelers started calling the Fire Island they know and love ” Gay Fire Island” this term refers to Cherry Grove and The Fire Island Pines, the two predominately gay  communities on the island. So in short although Fire Island is not entirely Gay, the Fire Island Pines and Cherry Grove certainly are!

So see for yourself what all the talk is about.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Last weekend as the housemates and I tossed out chipped martini glasses, Speedos missing drawstrings, designer sunglasses so scratched that the world was a blur and beach towels with mysterious stains we reflected and mused on the summer of 2009.

June was certainly off to a wet start as the swimming pool overflowed from the torrential rains and we bravely sat through “Chicago” for the umpteenth time, wrapped in blankets and drinking frozen margaritas. The upside of all that rain though was extended cabin fever that always ensured tea dance at the Blue Whale was packed and everyone was happy to talk with anyone other than a house mate. We heard Rhiana sing “Under my Umbrella” so many times at tea while queens proudly danced under their open umbrellas that is seemed likely this would be the new gay anthem of the summer.

The Invasion of the Pines and Pansy ushered in the hot, humid and finally dry weather that sent all of Fire Island racing for their board shorts and Speedos. And with the new weather came the sun deprived crowds. Every weekend the ferries were packed with day trippers lugging coolers and backpacks, last minute weekend guests with their designer dogs, matching luggage and bottle of Grey Goose, and homeowner couples bickering over dinner plans while wrestling large plants from Bayport nursery. Low, Middle and High Tea as well as AlternaTea with DJ Lina at Sip N Twirl were always packed and if your game was on you were able to jump up and down and wave your hands in the air to Beyonce’s “Halo”, Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing”, and The Black Eyed Peas “I’ve Got a Feeling” by DJ’s Vito Fun, Xavier and Corey Craig at least three times!  If you grew weary of Planters Punches and navigating the gridlock of low tea July also brought on the “event circuit” where you could sip donated vodka in random flavors (Absolut Pear?) and also jump up and down and wave your hands in the air to Beyonce’s “Halo”, Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing”, and The Black Eyed Peas “I’ve Got a Feeling” for a good cause such as the Gay & Lesbian Center, SAGE, Stonewall Foundation, or Dancers Responding to AIDS.

Then it was August and when you are staring down the end of summer all holds are gone and the island goes into full acceleration. There are so many PreTea House party invitations that it requires a strategic navigational plan and an excel spreadsheet to make sure you don’t wear the same Diesel T-shirt twice. Extended weekends become so much the norm that Sunday night Tea Dances don’t look any different than Saturday -plus you are guaranteed to hear ”Halo” “Don’t Stop Believing”, and ”I’ve Got a Feeling” one more time. And, all of your Face book and Twitter friends begin not so subtly dropping hints by updating their status saying they have not been out of the city all summer. Coming right in the middle of the August heat is the hot, Ascension Party on the beach where this year DJ Tony Moran saved us from the hot hits of summer but left us with the undisputed gay anthem of the summer when Kelly Rowland brought down the crowd with “When Love Takes Over”!

So now as I sit in a Starbucks in Chelsea wearing a Fire Island hoodie I know there is a place only a few hours away where we can be proud, free and celebrate our gay heritage!  And, in my case as I sit here next to my new boyfriend who I met in that Gay Summer Camp called the Pines I realize he is the highlight of summer 2009!

See you next summer!

An hour later than our intended departure the housemates, various friends and I made the beach front trek to the Great Pyramid that comprised the entrance to this year’s party. DJ Tony Moran was jumping around the DJ booth while he had had the shirtless crowd on the dance floor dancing with their hands in the air in the hot mid-day sun. Surrounding the dance floor were various VIP cabanas that belonged to individuals and local businesses where free Absolut Vodka was flowing beneath welcome shade. In this case, knowing the “right” people (a well known DJ) did come in handy as a friend and I scored VIP wristbands to one of the cabanas before we died of heat exhaustion not to mention alcohol withdrawal.

It was somewhere along the second Absolut Ruby Red and Tonic where I found myself in a conversation with a 6 foot dark haired Italian guy with a lightly trimmed chest and light brown eyes that you could fall into. This 30 something TV producer was accompanied by an equally as handsome toned African American friend and with the chemistry and ease they had together I surmised they were boyfriends. But before I could find out my friend dragged me off to the dance floor where the crowd was pressing towards the front of the stage in anticipation of Kelly Rowland’s much anticipated appearance.

The heat on the dance floor was at least 10 degrees hotter than the outside air- and that was at least in the 90′s but that circuit party primal sense of bonding came over us as we danced to Tony’s mixes chest to chest dripping in sweat as our designer glasses slid from our noses. Suddenly my straw hat was yanked off my head and when I turned there was the Italian guy from the cabana with a huge smile on his face. “You left without this” he said, and proceeded to give me a hard, wet kiss in the middle of the dance floor.

And when I came up for air, Kelly was singing “When Love Takes Over” on the stage and my Italian guy hugged me tight. I Yes, it does take over just when you need it the most!

Last night started innocently enough. A burger barbeque with the housemates and a few random guests- of course fueled with frozen Margaritas, Wine and Vodka Tonics – not necessarily in that order. That is how we ended up at Porsche with DJ Chuck and her premier show at Glo Lounge where in the spirit of the heat and humidity she promptly removed her wig mid way through the show and proceeded to turn out one of her best performances ever- and let’s be clear- I have been following her for six years. Her rendition of Hairspray’s “You can’t stop the beat” with live covers of Judy Garland, Joan Crawford, Cher, Eartha Kitt and most notably Janis Joplin brought the house down. Two G&Ts later- expertly mixed by bartender Mario- and we were all on the dance floor while she sang “Aquarius” and “Let the Sun Shine In,” from Hair.

Later at Sip n Twirl I danced to “Tonight’s Gonna Be a Good Night”  not having any real clue how good it would turn out with the dark stranger who this morning I now find nuzzling my ear!

So it was that I found myself with a much coveted invitation for a weekend in East Hampton. Of course a weekend invitation also comes with a complete weekend agenda which in this case meant no fewer than three house parties, a benefit fund raiser and an invitation to stop by for drinks. This does create great wardrobe challenges- “Are big Polo pony shirts still in style?”; transportation logistics- “What do you mean the bar car is full?” and hostess gifts -”They are sea shell shaped soaps hand made in a small village in northern Brazil”.

Our party benefit invitation was for ”Dancing on the Beach” a benefit for the LGBT Center in New York City. This year’s event was held at a private home on Two Mile Hollow Beach in East Hampton and featured DJ Susan Morabito. My hosts and other houseguests dressed in tight Scoop T-shirts, shorts, and sneakers - a welcome relief from the usual crisp Linen, Madras and Ralph Lauren Polos that normally define the Hampton’s- snaked through the “Meat rack” type path through the dunes and to the party, where we quickly planted ourselves at the bar for “complimentary” Vodka Tonics. After some thawing out it was time to mingle. Feeling ever so slightly out of my element – which is usually board shorts, flip flops and “well” drinks I put on my charming smile and proceeded to make small talk - and after a discussion of gardening, the commute to the Hamptons and home decorating- I ended up chatting with a prominent Hamptons realtor,  a cute, young theater producer and a charming 40 something man of dubious means but killer smile.

And, as the sun went down and Susan played the great Fire Island Classic “If you could read my mind” by Viola Wills while I danced close with the 20 something young producer I thought about how our Gay Heritage and shared experiences really do bind us all together no matter what gay destination we may find ourselves!

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!

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”.

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!