Kay's Blind Gayting (mis)Adventures: The Big Gay Charity Date Auction: Part 3

Read the whole Blind Gayting series here. Scroll down to 8 February and work your way up.

I have been struggling to write about the night before the Big Gay Charity Date Auction, my first ever Inferno. Mostly because I don't fully remember the night. I wasn't drinking, but the entire night is a glorious swirl of images and incidents, so that's how I shall retell it:

I swung by Lillian's house to kill some time before we headed to the club. I found street parking and called her cell when I reached the front door. She came downstairs and let me in and we took the two flights of carpeted stairs up to her one-bedroom. Lillian's building has a unique smell, always the same, that is an odd mix of flowery, with an underlying tone of musk or cologne, and always with just a hint of an unplaceable ethnic food. It's not a bad smell, it doesn't overpower, but it is a smell that in unmistakably Lillian's building. Once inside her apartment, I kicked off my shoes in the entry, met her black and white cat, Prius, who completely ignored me, and Lillian fretted over what to wear.

I pointed out that wearing flats and her hair back with a bump in it flagged her as a straight girl (true at that time), but since we'd be in a club for who knows how many hours and she might want to dance, she should make sure she was wearing shoes she was comfortable in. I can't remember if she decided on the black peep-toe heels or the silver glittery flats.

We parked in a lot instead of looking for street parking on Capitol Hill, because really? I know I'm a woman who sucks at parallel parking. I don't feel the need to humiliate myself by proving it. When given the option, I will always opt to park in a lot or garage, just to avoid the hell of parallel parking.

Lillian and I walked into Chop Suey approximately 20 minutes after the instruction email said was the start time for Inferno, but we were two of maybe 15 other people there. I will never remember that it's always better to be late to clubs. And then to add another half an hour to whatever that time is that is deemed late.

Lillian parked at a table with our drinks, I checked in with the Auction organizers to see what exactly I needed to be doing tonight. We were here to promote the Big Gay Charity Date Auction to take place the next night, but apparently the only thing the Auctionees needed to do was parade across the stage later in the evening to drum up interest. There were a grand total of ten of us at this point with our profiles on the website, but I had no idea how many other people to expect at Inferno.

Lillian and I stood at our table and watched people come in, chatting about her family's visit and our respective weeks. More people showed up and I found the Seattle Lesbian crowd to be an interesting mix, and far different that Sacramento's Lesbians. There was flannel. There were hiking boots. There were mullets.

There were also perfectly normal-looking people, but I was rather distracted and disturbed by the mullets. I texted people. I texted many, many people. Lillian and I laughed over the replies and tried to stop staring at the mullets.



We went to the dance floor once it filled up a bit more. There was a DJ and I cannot remember what was played, but I'm sure all of the songs featured on this lovely mashup of '09's pop were played. I remember Lillian busting out some moves from Britney's "Circus" video when the song came on.

When signaled, I followed Dianne, Joan and some strangers to the hallway that led to the place where all the magic and mystery happen: the back room. The green room. The prep room. Whatever you want to call it, there was a TV on a stand with a ton of VHS movies, with some throwback family-friendly 90s flick playing when we walked in. I laughed and made small talk with one of my fellow Auctionees. I want to say there were only three or four of us there, but I really can't remember.

I was ridiculously nervous and considered bolting from the room no less than ten times. I hate crowds. I hate public speaking. I hate being in front of people and having attention called to me in any way. I was way, way too sober for this, and no amount of positive self-talk about how this was an exciting new experience was going to make the sick feeling in my stomach any better.

We moved through some door and onto a hidden area of the stage. I wanted to throw up. The music was cut and Joan had a mic. She was cheerily telling the crowd about the next night's Big Gay Charity Date Auction and telling them about the charity and how much fun it would all be. My fellow Auctionees were called by name to go stand on the stage. I don't remember hearing my name, but I remember the horrible slow-motion walk from the safety of the darkened backstage into the ridiculously bright light. I couldn't see anything. I could hear the crowd give their polite cheer for each of us. I took my place next to the other vict-Auctionees, and shyly waved to the crowd.

Don't puke, don't puke, don't puke, don't puke, don't puke running through my head the entire time I stood there until we were finally, mercifully allowed to leave the stage. I'm sure I was only on the stage in the crowd's view for seconds, maybe a minute. Two tops. But it felt like a horrible, never-ending eternity. I have no desire at all for the spotlight, and while I adore live music, I never want to trade places with the person on that stage. It is terrifying to have all eyes on you, even if you can't see those eyes.

I slunk back into the safety of the darkened hallway, through the doorway and made my way back to Lillian, trying to smile politely at the strangers I passed and squish down the panicked urge to flee. We stuck around for maybe another hour, dancing and laughing with some of the other Auctionees.

We were almost back to Lillian's when she realized she didn't have her debit card. Now it was her turn to panick, realizing she must have left it at the bar, and Lillian decided she'd hop a bus when I dropped her off and go back and get it. This was an utterly ridiculous idea and I told her so. There was still at least an hour until the end of the event, I had no problem driving back. This girl was silly and it made me question just what sort of people she normally hung out with. It took next to no time to head back to the club, I parked in the same spot in the lot we had vacated (but didn't pay again, shhh!) and we ran back inside to fetch the missing card.

Once it was safely in her pocket, we again set out for Lillian's. It was growing late and I still had an hour-plus drive to my own bed, so I dropped Lillian at the front door of her building, promised to meet up again soon, and once she was safely inside, set my GPS for home.