It’s raining men. Hallelujah…

This past weekend was spent in New York City migrating our NY office (duh) from Windows 2000 to Windows XP. Traveling to different offices for my firm is always good and bad. The bad is the hours put in. Usually 20 – 24 the first day (usually a Friday) and about 10 – 16 hours a day Saturday and Sunday. For example, I arrived Thursday and worked until about 6:30 or so. Friday I worked from 8:30AM to 4:30AM Saturday morning. Went to the hotel, got 4 hours of sleep, then worked 8:30AM until about 8:00PM that night. However, that particular bad always ends up good come payday.

Now, the good is our IT staff in each office is awesome. They always want to show you a good time. And seeing how you are giving them a hand with a major workload, they go out of their way to help you enjoy their city. Such was the case Thursday night…

Seeing how Thursday was probably going to be the only chance for some of us to see the city that weekend, we all cut out of the office at about 6:30 for some dinner and drinks. We had dinner at a kick-ass Spanish restaurant, who’s name escapes me. Having never had Spanish food, I was pleasantly surprised. It was good stuff. Except for the Sangria. You can keep that. Ug. The only good thing about Sangria is eating the liquor-laced fruit at the bottom of the jug. The rest of it is nasty. Then again, I was never a wine person anyway.

After dinner, we decided to go out for a few drinks. Unfamiliar with the bars in that particular location, Jeanne (the project lead) asked someone on the street for a good local bar. Directions were pointed out. Off we went.

We arrived at the bar in good spirits and went ahead in. My first thought was “Damn, this is a sausage party…” because of all the dudes in the bar. Then I saw a couple honeys, but noticed they were doing (what I thought was) the faux lesbian things women today think is so cool (it’s not, it’s just stupid and teasing). Then I saw the dance floor. Or rather the 4×4 dance square. With the dude in the leather thong bikini dancing on it.

I felt like Jason Lee’s character in Chasing Amy when he realizes he’s in a lesbian bar. I kind of looked around again and realized why it seemed like a sausage party. Because it was. I just started laughing at my own ignorance.

Having been to gay bars before—hey they have the best dance music and single women go there so they won’t get hit on (or so they think)—I had no issue. I didn’t care if we stayed or went. Personally, I wouldn’t have minded leaving—not because it was a gay bar, but because when I go to a bar and drink, I like looking at women. Something of which there was a shortage of. However, the women we went with wanted to stay and watch the show. So we did. Well, they did—I stayed and drank my beer and tried not to openly stare at the only two lesbians in the place. At least they were lipstick lesbians. I hope I was at least a little inconspicuous. I never want to be one of those guys.

All in all it was a good time. Plus they were running a promotion that night. I got a free package containing a condom and some anal lube. Good times.

Sometimes it doesn’t matter where you are, but who you are with and the free things you get.

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