Weekend Beach Bum 

A gig’s a gig. I knew this when, a few months ago, my alter ego Anita began hosting Thursday nights at a popular dance bar in Philly. After seven weeks the owner informed me that the crowds just weren’t what he was expecting, through no fault of my own or my fellow hard-bodied dancers, and he just couldn’t afford to keep up the festivities week after week. I’d heard this twice before, when hosting karaoke at bars in Wilmington. (At least those gigs lasted for a few months each.) This time, I handled the news with much more grace. When I was let go from my first karaoke gig, I exploded into tears on stage during my farewell song. ("Don’t cry for me, karaoke fans!")

When you’re hosting in drag at a club each week, it’s easy to get attached to the patrons. I wish I had a new beaded gown for every time I’ve heard a sob story about a lover’s leaving, a family’s inability to accept someone’s coming out, or confessions about alcohol or drug addiction. People like to share their problems with bartenders and hairdressers because they’re nonjudgmental, anonymous, and they’re paid to (at least pretend to) care, and I suppose drag queens fall into that category, too. But I really do care, although I’ve become better at distancing myself from patrons out of necessity. Runny mascara and tear-stained rouge only look good on Tammy Faye.

However, being let go from this most recent bar really got me thinking about something. The gay bar business really isn’t what it used to be. I have noticed this downward trend in the nine years I’ve been performing, and the Philly bar owner’s last night laments served to solidify what I’ve observed for years. "People just don’t come out to bars like they used to," he reported matter-of-factly. "I have friends who own bars all over the country. The only bars still doing really well are in big party cities like L.A., New York, and even Chicago. But even those bars are hurting." In his opinion, this barhopping drop is due mainly to the invention of the Internet. "Let’s face it, most people go to bars to hook up," he told me. "But why drive to a bar, pay for drinks, and spend hours sitting on a stool, when you can jump on the Internet for $19.99 a month and have someone at your house in twenty minutes or less?" I can see his point. I met my boyfriend over the Internet, although I wish to state for the record that we talked over email for nine months before we ever met. I think there are a number of reasons why the bar business isn’t what it used to be.

As recently as fifteen years ago, gay bars were just about the only option for GLBT persons wanting to meet "family." For decades, bars served as our community’s social and political hub. The times, they are a-changin’. We have made political and social gains that most Stonewall rioters never would have imagined while lobbing beer bottles at obstinate policemen in 1969. We have organizations for gay parents. We have Gay AA. We have annual pride celebrations in almost every major world city, and GLBT community centers in many cities. We’ve come out of the bars and into the streets and offices and, through television, even the living rooms of the world.

Also, we are more aware of the dangers of drinking. Our collective self-esteem is much higher than a few years ago. We don’t have nearly as many negative emotions to drown in a glass of gin. With the crackdown on drinking and driving, far fewer drivers are willing to take the chance on tossing down a few drinks and getting behind the wheel after a night at the local watering hole. The number of bar patrons ordering bottled water, soda, and juice is way up. Unfortunately, so is the number of bar patrons who choose to indulge in club drugs like Ecstasy and crystal meth, instead of alcohol. That’s unfortunate for our community and for bar owners who count on a high bar ring at the night’s end.

To a large degree, we’ve been swept up by the tides of the mainstream. Who needs to seek acceptance and refuge in a bar, when we have Carson from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy appearing with Dolly Parton to massive applause on Country Music Television’s Flameworthy Awards? Of course, our mainstream integration comes at a price. I worry sometimes that we’ll lose our cultural edge. Any minority who stands on the outside of the cultural majority, looking in, offers keen insight as to the inequities and injustices of that society. I suppose it’s only logical that as those inequities and injustices disintegrate, so does the line between mainstream culture and the minority. Still, I worry about where our next Andy Warhol, John Waters, Paul Monette, or Audre Lorde will come from.

A couple of years ago, my friend talked me into visiting Woody’s in Philadelphia on a Wednesday, underage night. We used to call this "chicken night," even when I was a "chicken" ten short years ago. Perhaps my observations are colored with age, but the atmosphere seemed so different than when I was nineteen. The young crowd drowned itself in bottled water and the whole scene looked like a Gap employees convention. In my chicken time, we drank beer in the car before going into the bar and tried to scam drinks from the bartenders, dressing and acting as promiscuously as possible. We thought about the drinks, the dancing, and the drama. You could almost hear these young people thinking about marriage, careers, and adoption, and the thrill of being in a gay bar seemed almost absent.

Then again, that could be a good thing.