October 30, 2008
Fantasy Fest 2008 Photos and Review
(If you're just here for the pictures, here's my Fantasy Fest 2008 photo album.)
As an Internet junkie, I've always contended that this medium has made us smarter. The amount of information available to us, through countless filters, far trumps what people had access to a generation ago.
The Internet has probably made you a better shopper, with the ability to find what you want quicker and cheaper than ever. You probably keep in touch with way more friends than people your age did 20 years ago. And the people with whom you share opinions are not limited by neighborhood, state or even country.
All good things, to be sure.
But here's one thing the Internet might be killing: Fantasy Fest.
All because of guys like me.
For years on this site, I've documented my travel experiences in words and photos, and never did I think it would have an adverse effect on my return. Till this year, when time after time after time, I'd see an uncostumed, camera-wielding guy who clearly booked a trip to Key West only because he saw a set of tits on the Internet.
As I wrote in my 2006 review and 2007 review, the costumed folk love posing for pictures. Me, my girlfriend, my condo-mates, everyone. But it's clear that too many gawkers come to pad their porn collections rather than celebrate the freedom, creativity and community driven eroticism of Fantasy Fest.
I've taken plenty of pics of strangers, sometimes in the daytime while wearing just a t-shirt and shorts, but there's generally a context to my actions. It may be because I'm a Yankees fan, a Giants fan, a KISS fan, or a wrestling fan.
Someone wanna tell me what this guy is a fan of?
Too often, with these guys, it's "See tits, shoot tits." I know because I walk up and down the street with two nice ones. Well, next to them, at least.
I've watched countless guys catch a glimpse of my bodypainted girlfriend and instantly stop whatever they're doing — ordering a gyro, scratching their balls, etc. — to take a picture. Is it flattering for her? Hell, yeah! Is it indirectly flattering to me? Hell, yeah! But there's no context. When I say instantly, I mean it. Before there's a recognition of what the costume is — before anyone sees that my get-up may be part of the gag — they're shooting her chest. Sometimes I even get physically nudged out of the way. (That doesn't fly over well.)
On one five-block walk with Hello Titty, my gal was stopped by 25 people with cameras. Maybe five wore costumes. Maybe three were women (though many more women hooted their appreciation, few had the "see tits, shoot tits" Mardi Gras-like mentality).
For the people who dress up and want to shoot a memento of their trip, we can't pose for enough pics. For anyone who asks nicely or makes a witty comment about our costumes, we can't pose for enough pics. It's hella fun. I even wish more people would shoot candids to capture a more complete scene.
But for the guys without costumes, who are just jumping from one gal to another shooting torsos, what's the point of encouraging them to return? Better to let 'em sit home and wait for the pictures we'll shoot ourselves. Sometimes even shots of people actually doing something.
Mardi Gras never appealed to me because the phrase "Show your tits!" is to erotic fun as "Growing Up Gotti" is to television programming. It's dumbed down, crass and, ultimately, boring. These camera guys at Fantasy Fest — on average a good deal older than a Bourbon Street counterpart — prove to be no more mature or fun, and you can almost see the drool spill off their hapless mouths, which might as well be yelling "Show your tits!"
More Personal Reflections:
I don't meant to sound like I was down on the trip. I had a blast and am already looking forward to next year. Just thought I would try to discourage the socially impaired who may have one hand down their pants and the other booking airfare to Fantasy Fest. (If you want to have your hand down your pants at FF, fine. In fact, I encourage no pants. But try to be part of the party, please.)
• Why didn't I know about the Masquerade March before? I only caught the tail end of it, and it looked like a blast. Everyone in costume, tons of people taking pics. "Selected guesthouses provide costumed revelers with adult beverages along the way." I'm going to seriously injure whoever knew about this and didn't tell me.
• Torrential downpours suck. I barely brought out my excellent DSLR set-up because of the threats — and actual occurrences — of very heavy rains. Most of my pics were shot with a pocket cam, and I couldn't shoot as much candids as I would have liked. I don't like pina coladas, and I don't like getting caught in the rain. Alas, I did and was sick for the last couple of nights. There will be hell to pay in 2009!
• The demographic really changes at the end of the week. During the week, it's like any episode of HBO's Real Sex. Mostly middle-aged white folks. Then a significant number of blacks and Latinos come in for the weekend. Many in their late-teens and early-twenties, and lots of families as well. I guess it's a South Florida contingent, and, while they don't dress up too much, they do have fun as parade viewers. It wouldn't surprise me if Karl Rove kidnapped them all so they can't vote on Tuesday.
• Go cheap, go funny, go group. The best costumes always seem to be the group ones. Though I must say it's getting harder and harder to top ideas already executed. eBay is absolutely your friend for accessories. Think ahead so you're not getting ripped off at brick & mortar costume stores.
Photo Albums From Around the Web (more will be added as I find them):
• Flikr: Most Recent Photos Tagged "Fantasy Fest" — Lots of hits and misses from this general pool of pics. (Better than a pool of piss.) You can continue to monitor this link as photos get added.
• John Chow — Quality photos all around. Nice smiles, colors and editing. (Yes, the rain was this bad.)
• Bobby the Beast and Victor Dickter — I like these galleries. Lots of smiles and familiar faces.
• David Epstein — Quality pics, but a great many of people posing for someone else's camera. Don't ya just love guys who wait for others to ask for permission to shoot and then strike from the side?
• Fantasy Fest Memories — A quality cam seems to have used, but the gallery could have used better editing. One of my friends appears in four consecutive shots, none of which is she looking at the camera.
• Brian Zajac — Shots of the Key West bars and attractions highlight this gallery.
• Debo75 — Could definitely use some editing, but thumbs up to Debo75 for appearing in photos having fun in costume.
• Bolton Perry — Separate galleries for Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. Heavy on the "gotcha" shots. Same as last year.
• Jeff Potter — Looks like some were shot from a balcony somewhere.
• Eros Arts — Large gallery shows some of Fantasy Fest's gay revelers.
• Phil Stripling — Some nice pics at ipernity.com, an interface that's new to me.
• Patrick Fulcher — A whopping 339 photos, but there are a ton of repeats, and I have no idea why subjects were shot several times when they weren't even looking at him.
• T-Bone — Over 500 pics in this gallery. Many, many repeats.
• Humpa — A whopping 794 photos, way more than I could shoot with two drinks in my hand.
• Leester — A staggering 1,542 photos appear in this set, but a ton are repeats. Many nice shots with a more friendly tone than some of the "gotcha" sets out there.
• Bill Minter — Includes lots of photos from the Masquerade March, which I will not be missing next year. Bill's photo sets document parties all over the world.
• Tony and Cheri — Another excellent gallery and report from an obviously sexy and sociable couple. You need only to compare these types of photos with some of the more predatory ones linked above to understand the different types of people who descend to Key West for Fantasy Fest.(Don't miss the link at the bottom left of the page for part II of their set.)
October 5, 2008
Farewell, Yogi's, My All-Time Favorite Bar
This is a love story about urine.
And broken bar stools. And tits. And Germans.
On the exact minute the above picture (see album) was taken — at 4:00 a.m. on Saturday, Oct. 5 — the dirtiest, smelliest, cheapest, loudest, rowdiest, most diverse and GREATEST bar on the Upper West Side officially closed.
Yogi's was my favorite neighborhood haunt not just for what it had (sassy bar maids, $2.75 Miller Lites, a liberal buyback policy) but for what it lacked ... a ceiling. Yeah, it had a roof and all that, but there wasn't a limit to the crazy shit that could happen there at any time on any day.
The place bred stories. And that was fucking cool.
It was where I drank with a porn star, a dishwasher, and a trust-fund millionaire. And I don't mean like over the years. I mean at one time. It was where I met tourists from countless countries, got flashed by bartenders as incentive to not leave (it worked), belted out the words to redneck country tunes, and drank way too much on a too-regular basis with suits, skanks, hippies, degenerates, alkies, perverts, Columbia students, mothers, and the occasional dumb shit who'd order wine.
Like other local businesses, Yogi's will be replaced by luxury condos that'll probably start at $1M for a one-bedroom pad. And one day I hope to meet one of the new residents, to ask if he can feel the ghosts of Yogi's, if he can hear the echoes of Johnny Cash and David Allan Coe and, most importantly, if he can smell the constant film of piss that coated the floor of the most disgusting bathroom I've ever entered (about 2,000 times).
Yogi's Links:
• Photos: Tuesday Night at Yogi's — These were taken by my friend Kevin while testing out my new camera lens.
• NYCBP.com News — This NYC dive-bar blog will certainly recap the closing-night festivities. (Also check out forums and photos.)