Tranny Party - An Epic Tale

I have said it before, and I will say it again: there is something for everybody in NYC. Here is the background: one of my best gays use to have a tranny as a roommate. For those of you not in the know, a tranny is not a cross-dresser but one who has really kicked it up a notch and has opted for plastic surgery and may or may not have had a sex change. So, my friend's old roommate (we will call her Hot Tranny from here on out) was hosting this tranny party at the seediest bar I have ever been to at 31st and Madison. A group of 5 of us (3 gays 2 straights) really had no idea what to expect and thought at a minimum it would be good for a few laughs, some free drinks, and we could at least say hi to Hot Tranny who is fierce and fabulous in her silicone infused glory.

We showed up around 11:30 (before Hot Tranny) and had to entertain ourselves for about 15 minutes before we were allowed in the back VIP section. Along the perimeter of the room was a line of the most awkward looking, unattractive men I have ever seen. The weirdos come out of the woodwork for events like this, I guess. The one thing I thought very strange was that these guys were straight. Now, I pride myself in running with a pack of extremely attractive gay men and none of the bystanders even gave them a glance. They were mesmerized by the she-males.

All the sudden Hot Tranny emerged and we were whisked back to the VIP room where $3 bottles of Andre champagne were popped and Grey Goose bottles filled with Svedka were unleashed. While we were observing the spectacle that is Hot Tranny work the room, the VIP area slowly started to fill with guys who had paid $150 a ticket to be graced with her presence. When I say VIP room I am sure you think of Marquee or Bungalow...a special jewel of a room; a den of iniquity and inebriation for the chosen few. This VIP room mirrored one you might find in Eastern Europe with oscillating floor fans bolted to the ceilings, exposed wiring, duct tape mended Ikea couches, and a plywood riser for the 'ladies' to dance on. While Hot Tranny was easily the queen of the party, the other trannies looked like men with fake boobs (not hot). Although, one actually looked a little like Salma Hayek and there was another who mirrored a 1980's Annie Lenoxx. As it turns out the trannies were not there to be gawked at like creatures in the zoo, but to line up their tricks for the night and meet with their 'clients'. I use the term clients very loosely as these ladies were obviously not doing any type of taxes, interior design, or practicing law.

After cheap vodka and even cheaper champagne it was time to make a trip to the girls room.....or what actually was the tranny staging area. The women's bathroom was teeming with trannies in various stages of makeup and undress. The bathroom attendant quickly ushered them out (as there were no doors on the stalls, and they are in fact guys) so we could pee. My roommate and I were given our 5-square ration of toilet paper from the attendant then finally were able to have a brief reprieve from the scene outside the bolted door.

Back in the VIP room, the trannies danced on the box, flirted with gross guys, but my roommate and I noticed a quite handsome man enter the VIP area. Well dressed, straight looking, very attractive, and a little familiar......Hot Tranny went over immediately and started to talk him up. My friend Todd looks up and goes "OH MY GOD THAT IS HAROLD*!!!"(name has been changed to protect the guilty) Todd and I had met Harold* at a few high society house parties a while back, and while there was always an aire of questionable sexuality from him, he was in fact married to a woman (although we know that doesn't mean a damn thing). After Hot Tranny was done chatting we called her over and began the interrogation to make sure it was the same guy. Turns out it WAS this guy Harold, and he is in fact one of Hot Tranny's 'clients'. O-M-G what does one do with information like this???? His poor wife! I can not even imagine finding out that your husband is cheating on you with a chick who has a penis. I can't! Harold noticed us dying in the corner and quickly houdini'd out of the place. Todd texted him later to ask what he was up to, and he promptly replied that he was having dinner at Pastis...ya if by Pastis you mean cheating on your wife with a tranny, then I guess so. Can you imagine showing up somewhere like that in a very compromising environment where you think you will never be discovered....only to find two people who know you.

After that things were getting a little out of hand....lap dances, really mannish trannies, etc. so it was definitely time to jet. The gays and straights alike in our group were all a little fazed by the Harold incident, and it was time to get outta there. Oh kids, just another night in New York City. As I always say....I just can't make this stuff up.