A SO-CALLED "KYLIE" PARTY: Be Bar / Washington, D.C. / October 13, 2007

So Aaron is my best buddy, my fellow appreciator of all that is tastefully (mmm...sometimes not-so-tastefully) trashy, the soda to my Ketel, and, not least of all, my Kylie soul mate.

When I called him from my office that serendipitous early-December day in 2004, telling him I could get floor tickets for Kylie in London online "right then," he said, "We're doing. Cost is no object!"

So it's only natural that he would help me brainstorm a fabulous Kylie Party in Washington, D.C., where he lives.

We'd decided to try Be Bar, a totally cute gay bar near the convention center that's got... Okay, no more of that. I won't plug the place any more than that, and you'll find out why. Okay, so I'm making a long story VERY short when I say we'd had it all set up. These DJs were gonna play a Kylie montage video to start the evening, there'd be a bit of Kylie played throughout the night, and I'd sign and give away free books. Easy enough, right? I even had my boyfriend Billy design these awesome lil' postcards, see? (Click on it to see a clearer version.)

Anyway, so me, Billy, and our friend Katie, in her teenly little Acura take a road trip from NYC down to DC. Friday, our first night, Aaron takes us to this dive bar called The Raven in Mount Pleastant/Columbia Heights (his super-Salvadorian DC neighborhood), where we, as New Yorkers, get VERY excited about $3 glasses of Makers Mark and make the most of it. The next day, Aaron sleeps it off at his apartment, and Katie, Billy, and I visit the National Zoo. It's an absolutely perfect day (65 and sunny), and we see prairie dogs, tigers playing with empty beer kegs, and PANDA BEARS ROLLING DOWN HILLS!!!!!!

So after the zoo and some AMAZING Mexican food, we go to Be Bar for "Kylie Night." We set up books. We start our tabs. We meet the owner. We marvel at his flat-ironed hair. And we know when he looks at the copy of The Straight Road to Kylie we hand him (okay, when did I start typing in the Royal "We"?) and says, "Ohhhhhh, KYLIE. I get it! That's why you wanted a Kylie Night!" we know that nothing will turn out as planned.

Straight Road to Kylie: Good AND good FOR you....

There was...

1. No dancing to "In My Arms" with my best friend, time standing still around us, glittering confetti suspended in midair.

2. No scenes of freakishly fit DC gay men singing along to "Can't Get You Out of My Head."

3. No surprise Kylie-cameo, who'd been just sheerly DELIGHTED at the news that a party was being thrown basically in her honor in the capital of the biggest market she has yet to fully crack.

Okay, so maybe I didn't really expect these things to happen just like this. Well, especially 3. If Kylie showed up at Be Bar by the DC Convention Center on a beautiful autumn Saturday night, I'd frankly be worried about her social life.

But y'know...SOME Kylie music would've been nice. The "Kylie video montage" I'd been promised turned out to be a live DVD that someone pushed "PLAY" on, and after that, I didn't hear any Kylie-ness at all. I don't know what happened. It was like the people Aaron and I had been corresponding with for months regarding the music, logistics, postcards, etc., had been taken over by pod people. Pod people intent on making me cry into my beer.

Don't worry, y'all. I didn't cry. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

I did, however, have a FANTASTIC TIME! An old college friend of mine and Billy's drove down from Maryland, I met tons of Aaron's friends, I danced to a lot of Rihanna (The Rough Road to Rihanna, anyone?), I signed and gave away 50 books (eat that!), and I had me some Heinekens.

Everyone lookin' cute except for me with my crazy-face.

Signin' books.

All right...

There was one point in the evening, where I might've lost some of my dignity. About a half hour before I gathered up my coat and said to mah crew, "Fuck it, we're leaving," I'd stumbled on up to the DJ booth. They knew I was the author. We'd e-mailed and introduced ourselves. But I don't think they were prepared for it when I said: "Y'know...I think I'd just SHIT if you played some KYLIE...."

I think he said, "That'd be messy," and I said, "I'd clean it up," then politely extricated myself.

Okay, my mama taught me better, but I was just over it.

We rode the climate-controlled, on-schedule, clean-as-a-whistle DC Metro back 5 minutes to Aaron's apartment (I love DC!!!!!), where we feasted on leftovers, watched Footballer's Wives on DVD, and passed the hell out.

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