Sydney -- Big Night Out

The trip from Melbourne to Sydney took about an hour in the air -- no turbulence or problems whatsoever. Upon landing, I received a text message from my Sydney host for the day Jason, my roomie Karl's friend, who lives in Sydney with his partner Michael. He informed me to meet him at the drop off section, upper level of the airport (cracked me up because that's what I always tell my guests who visit me in Los Angeles). I arrived at my destination posthaste, and waited for him. I had never met Jason, so I was slightly anxious about the encounter -- as sometimes friends of friends don't end up being your friends too. Well, that anxiety dropped within two seconds of meeting him. He graciously greeted me and rushed me off in the car to experience something quintessentially Sydney. He didn't tell me where we were going, but I suspected as we drove that we were heading to the iconic Sydney Opera House. Sure enough, 15 minutes later, Jason pulled the car over in a lovely park. Brides and grooms dotted the green lush park, having their pictures taken against what can only be described at probably one of the most amazing backdrops, certainly within Australia. Jason and I climbed down the small hill to the Harbour fence and that's where I caught my first real glimpse of the Sydney Opera House. Again, I worked myself into a bit of an emotional state, taking a moment to appreciate the glory of the moment. I commented to Jason that I had never really imagined being in Australia, even though I had carried the fantasy of visiting since I was a boy. I shed a tear or two of joy, wiped them, then got on with being a tourist. We took some pics of me with the Opera House rising majestically behind me, then left. Just a taste of Sydney Jason said as we left the park and journeyed to his home.

Jason and Michael share an amazing home with their dog, Taylor, named after a character on the Bold and the Beautiful (embarrassingly, I have been an on again, off again viewer of this soap since it debuted while I was in my freshman year at Wabash College). Taylor, a beautiful Chow-Labrador mix, is older now and finding life difficult, but she is just a joy to be around nevertheless. Not surprisingly, both Jason and Michael are show-people. Jason is an accomplished stage actor in Australia and Michael is a musician who has worked in various high level productions in Australia and beyond. They met my roomie Karl about 8 years ago or so through Karl's brother who is a well-known TV actor here in Australia. We had a nice talk about American/Australian cultural differences and bonded over crazy right-wing politicians -- both theirs and ours back in the states.

The agenda had been set by Michael prior to my arrival and the time had come for us to get moving. Our first stop would be the top level hotel suit of another friend of Karl's (and Jason and Michael) named Trevor Ashley. Trevor, I learned is currently Australia's most famous drag queen (or as we call it in the US, female impersonator). We parked right in front of the hotel as a Doris Day spot opened just as we arrived. Although it was only a 5 minutes parking zone, we took the chance and accepted the risk. Inside the lobby, they had to call up to the room to allow up to move beyond reception. At Trevor's door, I heard the voice -- a large and loud, dramatic Australian accent, bellowing from behind barrier. As it opened, Trevor greeted us largely and invited us into his suite. A few other guests and Trevor had been enjoying Champagne without us. Graciously, Trevor popped open another bottle and we all sat down, did the introductions, then moved quickly into a discussion of Liza Minnelli (did I say this was a gay group?! LOL). Actually, the conversation centered on Liza's recent visit and performance here in Sydney. Mixed according to this group. Trevor had also been doing a show where he does a cabaret show impersonating Liza for 2 hours. I learned that his show, not the real show, had been doing very well in Sydney and that on Monday night (two nights away), he would be doing a sort of encore performance for industry professionals. They invited me to attend, but I had pre-arranged and paid for a Bridge Climb on Monday. As it turns out, another friend, Nate, also in the room, works at the Sydney Harbor Bridge Climb company and he offered to switch my reservation to allow me to attend Trevor's show. Hey, how could I refuse this -- and the synchronicity of the situation did not escape me at all. The odds of literally being in a hotel room with people associated with both Trevor's show and the Sydney Harbour Bridge were just too astronomical to ignore. I knew the show was going to be special because my world conspires to put me into situations of magnificence and I just accepted this development as another example of living a blessed life of full of karmic rewards.

We departed the hotel room, leaving Trevor to get some rest, and headed out to a bar that Jason seemed awfully excited to show me. The bar, just off Oxford Street seemed just out of the main action of what is probably Sydney's West Hollywood equivalent. Upon entering, the handsome barman (bartender for my US readers), greeted us enthusiastically as well. He said he had been expecting us. I noticed how handsome Cameron was immediately -- a fully radiant man, both aesthetically and spiritually. He began concocting creations before we even got comfortable in our bar stools. Cameron and I bonded instantly when he discovered I appreciate Campari -- not a usual preference for many, and especially for someone from the USA. Jason, Michael, Nate, and I chatted and enjoyed several of Cameron's creations over the next couple of hours. We occasionally bantered with other customers, but mostly keep our conversations within our circle (including Cameron, of course). Near 1 am, we made our goodbyes and arranged with Cameron to meet us out at the new club opening around the corner after his shift ended at 2 am. When I got myself off the stool, I realized that I had developed quite a little buzz from Cameron's creations. All the talk and banter and enjoyable conversation betrayed the fact that I had probably had one too many. Turns out that all of us stumbled out of the place. Michael and Nate left Jason and me to venture onward alone; too tired to continue to the club with us.

We waited in the line that stretched down the block and I felt a tad bit irritated by it. I don't like waiting and the club kids (half my age) were getting on my nerves. I swallowed my irritation and tried to stay in the moment. How many other 41 year olds do this, I asked myself, proud that I was getting way outside of my comfort zone. I mean, doing the club thing ended for me about a decade ago. Luckily, the line moved quickly and we got to the entry point within ten minutes or so. I paid 40 bucks for us to get inside, and we were through the doors. Inside, well, it was a dance club. LOUD music, smoke machines doing what they do, and too many people shoved into a tight space. At least inside here, I felt no cultural differences at all. We made our way immediately to the dance floor where I was consistently bumped by drunk or drugged up Twinkies. The crowd was much better inside, less club kids and more men types (read at least 30). Had Jason not been so much fun and a great host, I probably would have not really been enjoying the experience. This signaled to me to try harder to let go and go with the movement of the experience. We opted to get a drink since we had not had one for probably 30 minutes at this point and seemed like a good idea.

While standing at the bar, I turned to find a man walking directly toward me. A vision of beauty he was -- about 6'2", tightly cropped black hair, excessively strong jaw bones, handsome face and a body chiseled from Greek marble. He lunged at me, arms outstretched, and grabbed hold. Jason turned and found this large, gorgeous man embracing me, and laughed. I learned later that he knew the guy and was wondering how the heck I knew him too. Apparently, to bystanders, it appeared that this Greek God (well, accurately, I would have to call him a Lebanese God), did indeed know me from the affectionate way he was handling himself around me. Now, I was shirtless at this point (which unlike that night in Budapest was certainly the cultural norm here at this club), and I do think I look pretty good (especially for a 41 year old), but I am not used to having the hottest guy in the club accosting me. For some reason, he took quite a liking to me and did not want to leave my side. At about this time, Cameron also arrived to find this man clinging to me. I think it surprised him too and I was barely able to say hello since my new friend was dominating my attention. Finally, Cameron and Jason left me to fend for myself, giving me a departing look as if to say good luck as they headed to the dance floor. After a while I realized that my Lebanese god had just over-indulged and I spent the next hour or so sort of baby-sitting as his moods swung from "let's dance excitement" to "let's sit and rest mellow". I did enjoy the time with him, who doesn't like gushing attention from beautiful people? But after telling him repeatedly that I had to find my friends and him ignoring me, I finally ditched him in the bathroom and found Jason and Cameron on the dance floor. Jason and I said goodbye to Cameron and we escaped, careful not to attack the attention of my stalker.

Outside in the fresh air, I breathed deeply and spotted a kebab shop across the street. I looked at Jason, he at me, and knowingly we crossed against several lanes of cabs honking at us as we b-lined for the 5 am snacks. We stood on the street, across from the club, eating our little bit of perfection, and watching the club-goers exit the place. We caught a cab back to Jason's place and I collapsed on the bed around 5:30 am. Simon was landing at 6 am and I needed to meet up with him. Hum, 30 minutes to sleep. Would that be enough time?