2 Hours at Crisis on Eighth Ave

By John Russell

It’s the night before Easter Sunday, so there are a lot of bunny ears at Crisis on Eighth Ave, and a couple fuzzy bunny tails carefully pinned to the backs of jeans and go-go boys’ undies. Daniel Nardicio just happens to be at the door as we’re walking in.

“The show’s starting soon!” he says, and we promise we’ll be upstairs to see it.

It’s the second week for this party, and it seems to be off to a nice start. And it’s got quite the roster of nightlife names behind it: Nardicio, Michael T, Chris Ryan, Paul Short, DJ Rich King. We can’t help giggling about the fact that it seems like everyone who doesn’t work at The F Word on Friday nights works Crisis on Saturdays. The crowd is pretty much what you’d expect from a party with such a motley crew of promoters: drag queens and club freaks courtesy of Mama T; Hell’s Kitchen hotties and twinks courtesy of Chris Ryan; bears and daddies courtesy of Paul Short and Rich King; and a couple of Daniel Nardicio’s regulars who seem to be really confused as to why everyone has their clothes on.

Downstairs there’s a little mini party gathered around the DJ booth to celebrate JoJo Americo’s birthday. We kiki with a dressed down Acid Betty, chat with Lee Chappel and totally forget to ask when his weekly pool party Drip will return to the Grace Hotel. We discuss Erykah Badu with PhDJ and decide that we like here even if we still have no idea what she thinks of the gays.

Not wanting to break our promise to Danny Boy, we head upstairs to catch the show. Michael T is over by the DJ booth and we exchanged kisses, bumping cheekbones and laughing about how dangerous it is to have such fantastic bone structure. Then Daniel’s boyfriend, rising boylesque star Chris Harder, a.k.a. Go-go Harder Faster Stronger, takes the stage for an Easter-themed strip tease. He tosses what we assume are colored eggs into the crowd and when one lands at our feet we decide to get out of the line of fire and head for the bar.

Later, we’re outside having a cigarette and explaining to Doug Repetti that we’ve never been to a GNC before, and that, really, that should be obvious just by looking at us, when someone in a big dirty bunny costume approaches the velvet rope. We assume it’s Daniel, since of all the people we know, he’s the most likely to own several creepy animal costumes.

“Is that Daniel?” we ask, and the bunnyman opens up his velcroed crotch to prove…something. We reach inside and the bunnyman sqirms and we wonder if it actually is Daniel.

Upstairs, boys are still dancing, and downstairs Michael T is voguing behind the DJ booth for the queens. By the bar Hera C is gagging over our buddy Jeff’s spiked and studded letterman jacket. We know it’s time to head home when someone starts suggesting we all find a hotel with a hot tub. Tomorrow’s Easter Sunday, after all, and as tempting as a 5 a.m. gay hot tub orgy sounds, we don’t think undead zombie Jesus would approve.

Crisis on Eighth Avenue, Saturdays at Elevate, 390 8th Ave, 10pm, $5–$10.