Saturday, May 13, 11:00 p.m. Single and not quite ready to mingle. Where oh where is a hip, young lady to find booty-shaking satisfaction and an evening that won't end with her depositing the remains of her drink in an over-confident, would-be suitor's face?
"Ladies, we're at capacity. Please form a line to the side." Well, that's a good sign. Walking through the door of Krave Lounge for Saturday's weekly installation of Girlbar, my wing-girl Biana and I just barely make the cut. Only, with tonight being the culmination of the week-long Las Vegas Gay Pride celebration, it's a "Mega-Girlbar," meaning go-go dancers have been imported for the occasion all the way from the party's Friday night home at Ultra Suede in Los Angeles.
The moment my eyes adjust to the darkness, I become keenly aware that I'm among the tallest people in the room. This is new! I give myself a pat on my back both for my Eastern European blood and my choice to wear four-inch heels to a lesbian club. "Since you've been gone ..." Kelly Clarkson's irritating warble reminds me of my electively single state—as if I were really about to forget. I didn't vote for her so I have to look elsewhere to place the blame.
The tallest girl by far is the taut go-go dancer who wiggles high above us on one of two stages, the other stage forming an L, with tiny DJ Heather Vaughn at the hinge. She spins all the dance-floor standards you'd expect in any mainstream nightclub on the Strip and everyone's quite pleased to get down to the hip-hop, rock and '80s dance hits. Salt-N-Pepa's "Push It" raises more than a few eyebrows but we all just shut up and dance. Girlbar LV's manager Teri Vegas explains that in her experience, "women are not typically out as much" as the boys, certainly "not enough to keep a lesbian bar open." So the party's once-a-week format established by owners-promoters-life-partners Robin Gans and Sandy Sachs is perfect.
Whatever ideas you may have about what a lesbian party looks like, toss 'em. These 400 women are a cross-section of ages, body types and styles, and whether lesbian or not, they share one thing and that's a love for good music, good drinks and good company. Physically getting that drink is another story altogether. Those not dancing form an impenetrable barrier around the bar, making it nearly impossible to catch the bartender's eye, so it takes buckets of patience to wait it out.
VIP booths are, of course, available but unlike elsewhere, plenty of seating is made available among the couches and banquets for the rest of us. But the focal points of the night are definitely the dance floor and bar. Scattered among the 99 percent female crowd are a few brave men, the other tall people in the room. From the partiers' looks, the only men wanted dancing here right now are the gay ones (it says so on their T-shirts), though I think they're wanted even more next door.
We exit Girlbar and make a quick left for Krave nightclub, where a line of men extends halfway down the block. We're greeted at the door by Larry "Hot Chocolate" Edwards, who fawns and fusses over us like a mother, big sister or that really cool, older cousin who takes you out and gets you drunk for the first time. Inside, Krave is packed with beautiful men schmoozing, cruising and dancing to hardcore dance remixes of Madonna, Mariah, and yes, Kelly Clarkson. I clock it as less than one moment in the door before I hear "Since you've been gone ..." Give it a rest, sister! You're fed up! We get it!
There is no shortage of gorgeous men approaching with big, beautiful eyes to tell me they love my hair/dress/boobs. It's all very flattering, really, and it comes from the heart so there's no need to waste my drink on their perfectly spiked hair. "I try!" I say, attempting to be gracious but inside I know I put a little extra effort into it tonight. I'm just glad somebody noticed. Who says Pride is a sin? Especially when you live in Sin City?
Xania Woodman thinks globally and parties locally. And frequently. E-mail her at
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