A Call To Arms! Excelsior!

Word on the street is that Excelsior--Park Slope's venerable gay bar--has lost its lease, and won't be open (at least, not in that location) after the end of the month. For me, I'm hoping that they find a new space, and I'm planning to show my support by having drinks there as often as possible, in the next few weeks. You should go drink there, too, I think.

Excelsior has been serving drinks to the gays (and the gay-friendlies)] since 1999, when it filled a void left by all of the shuttered Brooklyn gay bars that came before--Carry Nation (in Park Slope, named after a hatchet-wielding prohibitionist), Friends (on Atlantic Ave.), and Whatever (also in Brooklyn Heights). When I first moved to New York from Chicago in 2000, Excelsior and Ginger's had planted a rainbow flag on 5th Avenue, and it was one of the reasons I knew that the Slope was the Brooklyn Neighborhood for me.

I hung out a lot at Excelsior after I first moved here. But when my friends and I celebrated my birthday there in 2004, my life changed--very much for the better.

In 2004, I'd broken up with my boyfriend just a few weeks before my birthday, so when my birthday rolled around, my friends decided that they'd take me to Excelsior to celebrate.  A couple of them started to behave inappropriately from the moment we arrived. One of my friends announced, "You're on the rebound!  We're going to find someone for you!"

"Please don't."

We were about two steps in the front door, when my friends started
scoping out other guys at the bar.

"What about that guy over there?"

"How about him?"

"Who do you want to meet? We'll help you!"

"I don't want your help. I'm a full-grown adult, and if I want to talk to someone, I'll just go up to him and start a conversation."

"Who?  Who?"

"That guy over there." I motioned to a tall guy standing way at the other end of the bar, and before my friends could intervene, I made my way to the opposite end of the bar and struck up a conversation. I mentioned that it was my birthday and that my friends were being annoying. His name was David, and he was drinking bourbon. As was I.

We chatted for a while, but eventually I could feel the magnetic pull of my friends up at the front of the bar. A couple of other friends had arrived in the meantime, and I thought I should go say hello to them.

About a half-hour later, David found me at the front of the bar, holding two glasses of whiskey. He handed one of them to me and wished me a happy birthday.   I introduced him to some of my friends, and we spent most of the rest of the evening hanging out and chatting.

At a certain point, it just kind of became clear that David and I were going to leave my birthday party at the bar, together. But just before that happened, my friend Will approached us with a little blond sumpthin-sumpthin of a twink in tow. Will said, "I found you a birthday present!  ONE!  TWO!  THREE!  HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"  And then the twink planted a kiss on my mouth. And Will did, too, I think.

"That's great, Will," I said, "but I'm going home with David."  And that's what I did.

David laughed it off. And honestly, I was more embarrassed for the twink and my inappropriate friends than I was for myself.

Anyway. David and I dated for a couple of months, and then we were just friends for a while, but then we started dating again. And then I mentioned that I wanted to visit Antarctica and he said he'd like to go, as well. So, I figured--well, if this guy's going to literally follow me to the ends of the earth… A few months after we got back from Antarctica, we moved in together.

When David turned 40, I planned an elaborate Amazing Race-themed birthday party for him. I sent him racing around New York City completing Road Blocks and Detours, picking up a new party guest at each turn in his "race."  The final Pit Stop?  Excelsior. And we set the cake up right on the bar at the exact spot where I'd introduced myself many years before.

Then, when the law changed, we decided to get legally married. On our wedding day, after the ceremony and the reception, our informal "after-party" was at Excelsior. It just seemed obvious that the best day of my life should include a celebration at the place that made the whole day possible in the first place.

I know that gay bars aren't what they used to be. In this day and age, it's possible to hook up via your smart phone. You can go on the internet in the privacy of your own home and set up a match.com date, or go on Grindr or Tinder. And for those who consider themselves post-gay, you might be spending way more time hanging out with straight friends in bars where the crowds aren't necessarily full of gay people.

But notwithstanding all of that, I can't help feeling nostalgic for the place where I met my husband, where we've celebrated the important events in our lives, together. The place where I could meet my friends for a drink, or for a summer barbeque in the back garden. The place where the jukebox always had an awesome selection, and one of the owners was most likely sitting up front, nursing a drink and chatting with the regulars.

Excelsior is a really special place. And not just for me. I really hope that they're able to re-locate to a new location. In the meantime, why don't you show your support by stopping in before the
end of the month for a goddamned Christian drinky-drink. 'Cause that's what I'm going to do.