August 2000


Late summer in Manhattan can be so hot that the entire city smells like the subway; this was one of those nights.

I'm on my way to the Lure (a leather/levi gay bar in the meat-packing district) on a Wednesday night for what is called "The Pork Pool Party." Though the Lure enforces its strict L/L code on the weekends, during the week it's not that mandatory; so, I'm in my brand new charcoal gray pinstriped 3-piece suit, royal blue French-cuffed dress shirt with complementing-patterned tie, black lace-up shoes, black-patterned over-the calf hose and blue silk boxers looking for trouble.

Upon entering, I can tell it's going to be a festive night because the bartender, usually sporting leather or ripped jeans, is wearing ridiculously-patterned swim trunks and, more absurdly, a couple of inflatable donut rings (one of them a rubber duck) around his waist. Since it seems a bit slow of a night so far, I ask him what he thinks my chances are of getting wet while dressed up. He answers by saying pretty good, fills my drink order (just a beer) and as I'm leaving his area, grabs a super soaker and gives me a parting shot that slightly gets me in the face and tie.

Time to take a look around.

The main room, normally divided into different stations of dungeon equipment, has been filled, instead, with variously-shaped kiddy pools, the biggest being in the center of the room. So far no one is even dipping toes in. Making my way to the back bar, I'm approached by a hot young guy in leather vest and chaps, and we start talking. As normally happens in cruisy bars, we get to the question of "What are you into?" I tell him it's always been a fantasy of mine to be thrown into a pool fully-clothed and he says, "ya never know" before vanishing. Oh, well, first try not too great.

Next, an older guy, kind of a big-bear type says, "nice suit," and we start talking pretty much in the same vein as the first. "I've thrown people into pools/mud before," he says, "it could happen."

I need a bathroom break and another beer, so leave him for a while. The bartender asks if I'd had any luck so far, and I have to inform him, "only seeds, just seeds." He wishes me luck and squirts another stream from his super soaker that this time gets me in the crotch.

Back in the main room, some of the Lure's bar backs have changed into speedos and are in one of the side pools splashing each other. I go to look for any of the first guys I was talking to and spot them both in the back bar speaking to each other.

"Oh, you guys have met," I say, and each nods.

"Tim and I go way back," the bear-like one says, as he walks on the other side of me "we've had some good times together."

"Uh-huh," I say, a little nervously.

"Now about your invitation.." Tim says.

"Well, I was really just wondering what it would be like," I start to backtrack, now in the middle of them, though spidey-senses are hinting that it might already be too late to retreat.

Tim says, over my shoulder to the bear, whose name I later found out was Dan, "Now?"

"Now," Dan says.

Each than grabs me under an arm and leg and, together, they lift me off the ground. A few other guys around us start laughing and saying, "UH-HO!" as I'm led to the pool in the center of the room.

Though the last thing on my mind was to try and break free, I couldn't have escaped my captors' grips if I'd wanted. Now the guys in the main room are cheering "YEAH!" and waiting to see if what they think will happen...will. I'm taken to the largest pool and suspended over the water for a moment, closing my eyes for just that moment, hearing the anticipation.

The hottest moment is the moment that happens just before they toss you in.

They let go, dropping me into the water butt and back first. The water isn't that deep, but does manage to cover me completely from shoulder to shoes, front and back. I stand (in a couple of ways ) and climb out to laughter and applause, my clothes making steady drips, and my black lace-ups, well, those of you into water know the sound.

A combination of feigned and real embarrassment, and ecstasy, I go to find my two new friends, thank them for their "help" and buy them each a drink.

On my way out the bartender congratulates me. "See you at next year's party?," he says.

"One can hope. One can hope."