Barbarella Cools Down at Air Conditioned
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Settled into the fur, relaxing with my martini in hand, I looked up to find James Bond posters, circa Sean Connery. The posters are the ONLY decorations on the dark vinyl-covered walls, and they’ll be switched out about every 6 weeks to keep us on our toes. Simple sophistication. Then I had to pee. I left David to hold my sweet spot in the pit and I headed up the steps, across the small dance floor with DJ Dancing Soma mixing melodies on my right, and over to the bathrooms. Here I was surprised and amused. I opened one door to find two more doors in front of me, and western saloon-style doors to my left. These swinging doors to the left covered the urinals, and if you really try, you can see the butts of boys peeing (you’d be right if you guessed that I really tried). The mirror and the sink are shared by both sexes; the two stalls are separate rooms with full doors (I personally like the privacy such doors allow, a throwback to the days when I used to “powder my nose” in the bathroom). Lovely.

The bar was filling up with a mixed, eclectic crowd. The boys of Truffle Records certainly have a following, and fans were there to represent and support. Gary and Paulo have not taken out any ads or spent any energy spreading the word. Let it happen organically, the people will come, they say; the people who know what we’ve done will know what to expect. The Messenger was spinning when I got the dancing bug. My ass to a column near the tiny dance floor, I tapped my large platform boots to the beats and watched the crowd. 1:00 a.m., the dance floor was packed. A young girl approached the bar with a friend (I guess they all seem young to me now, though I’m still in my 20s…barely). Her skirt was dangerously short. My quick synopsis: young, dumb, and scantily clad, an obvious escapee from the Gaslamp District.

As I backed away from the wannabe urbanites, I leaned on a column closer to the DJ booth. I was dancing in place to irresistibly encouraging beats when a blonde grabbed my hand and tried to pull me onto the dance floor. I insisted that my ass must continue to touch the column for reasons unspecified, and sent her back to the floor alone. A few minutes later, a big boy in a baseball cap aimed to coax me off my pole by pleading and pulling. My blonde friend informed him that if she had failed to get me to join in the boogying sesh than he certainly had no chance. What struck me about the people there, including these two, was the warmth I sensed in their personalities. This was not L.A., this was not the Gaslamp. Just like the rave scene, these partygoers were more about dancing and connecting than they were about binge-drinking and getting laid. I can dig it.

I asked Gary and Paulo how they intended to maintain this vibe. “Simple,” they answered, “treat people with respect.” Gary told me, “We’re all friends here. The bouncer is our friend, the DJs and live bands that will be playing here – friends. So we treat everyone else like we treat each other, and the vibe just… happens.” Their lineup might have something to do with this too. On occasion they’ll be clearing out the pit to make room for live musicians (the first of which is to be Steve Poltz, another friend). Other big names expected to frequent the joint include Sean Perry, DJ Gage, and Junior Mix-master (who runs Landlord Jims just east of downtown).

At the end of the night, my memory of the key-crisis had faded completely. Anthony, Air Conditioned’s gregarious and personable manager, reminds me of a comedian and very good friend of mine from New York. Before I knew who Anthony was, I asked him what he did for a living, and he replied, “I’m in the business of making people happy.” That’s funny, I’m in the business of being made happy. I’m sure I’ll be staking out a spot in the fur-pit again. I look forward to lounging on an orange, vinyl Hot Date, gazing down at a jamming Steve Poltz. Stranger things have happened. I attract strange shit, wonderful and weird shit, and I don’t expect this fact of my life to change any time soon; so I’m going to grab it by the horns and ride it through this town of mine. Stay tuned.

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