3.5 Hours at The Petting Zoo
By John Russell
I’ll be honest: I never would have trekked all the way out to the West Side Highway to party at The Dugout. But now that the space has been transformed from subdued bear bar to raucous rock ’n’ roll dive, the walk down Christopher Street to Rockbar is totally worth it, especially on Saturday nights when Ernie Cote and DJ AMartini’s Petting Zoo takes over.
So it’s 11:30-ish on a Saturday night and the Petting Zoo is already going strong. The small space is actually pretty packed. One thickly muscled go-go stud is doling out shots while another shakes his adorable little ass on the bar. Next Magazine photographer Jeff Eason is there snapping pics.
Ernie’s mingling, snapping his own pics for AntiTwink.com. “I keep telling everyone, this is gonna be my new Sugarland.”
The soundtrack is rock—duh!—with a little 80’s thrown in. Music videos play on the flatscreens above the bar—OMG, Pearl Jam! I don’t know about the rest of the crowd, but when AMartini plays Adam Ant’s “Stand and Deliver” it’s a personal high point for me, although by 1 a.m. I still haven’t heard any Hole.
A drum kit is set up in the front corner where bands occasionally play, but tonight the pool table’s getting more action. At one point an impromptu photo shoot takes over the table, a game put on hold while go-go studs and glam freaks writhe around for the camera. The 8 ball disappears into a hole—on the table, pervs!—but the wannabe pool sharks are actually fine with finishing their game without it.
AMartini’s fellow QxBxRx DJs Go Karf and Sir Loins show up, along with several current and former QxBxRx go-go boys, and it’s like the Petting Zoo is officially homopunk approved.
I’m dying for one of the go-go boys to stage dive off the bar, but by the time the thought occurs to me it’s already after 2 a.m. and there really aren’t enough people to crowd surf on. Instead I commandeer the AntiTwink.com camera and start asking people if I can take photos of their cocks. And a surprising number of guys actually let me! Like, seven! I even ask the three girls in the bar if I can take a picture of their pussies, but not so surprisingly, they say no. So, it’s 3 a.m.-ish and still no Hole. Of any kind.
