Rock ‘n’ roll fantasy

Mon, 16 Jun 2003 21:02:00 +0000

"So, can we use real picks, or should I just use my air pick?"

There are 20 of us, all contestants in the first annual United States Air Guitar Championship, and we are crowded into the top floor of the Pussycat Lounge, a dingy nightclub in Tribeca with a seedy nudie bar on its lower level. At our required orientation session, Paulie Legs, a certified CPA in an AC/DC T-shirt and jeans -- which I suspect he doesn't wear to his day job -- ponders the pick issue. The rest of us down free beers and cans of Red Bull energy drinks as Cedric Devitt, the event co-founder and organizer, gamely explains the air roadie policy; Yes, they are allowed, but the roadies must leave the stage after they help the contestant on with his or her air guitar. Then Cedric collects our music, from Dokken to Hole to the theme song from "Fame," from contestants with stage names like The Goober, Trans Am Mama, and Johnny Rocket.

As he explains that only five of us will advance to the second round, Paulie Legs pipes up again: "So, not everyone gets a second chance? That's bullshit."

These people aren't messing around.

Same-sex in the city

Tue, 27 May 2003 22:59:00 +0000

In a massive room festooned with pink paper garlands, a violinist plays Ravel softly, right next to a sign that boasts, "I played at Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones' wedding." The tables are laid out with china patterns and Kitchen-Aid mixers from Bloomingdales, freshly cut white calla lilies, frilly silk garter belts and brochures advertising lavish honeymoon packages. The couples, all radiant and in the throes of premarital bliss, haggle over stem height, compare butter cream frosting to bitter orange, and passionately argue the relative merits of bubbles vs. confetti.

Meanwhile, on the club's stage, a lanky drag queen named Sybil Bruncheon, appropriately bridal fabulous in a white satin bias cut 1920s-style gown, white gloves and white summer straw hat, tosses a bundle of peonies up in the air, and a dozen young men jostle to catch the bouquet and the prize it promises, not a future nuptial, but a gym membership.

Welcome to the third annual same-sex wedding expo.

Salon.com > Elana Berkowitz

Rock ‘n’ roll fantasy

Same-sex in the city