… be my baby. Or something like that.
The pictures were hung on the walls with care, we called the cantantes, made posters, in the hopes that err-body would be there.
It was a steady climb of a start. We had a full house twice over (I report with gratitude). The performers’ car broke down, so they were an hour late. Colombian time, Ben, Colombian time.
Leydi Rincon and Felipe Zuleta were fantastic. Felipe could puh-lay that guitar, and Leydi’s voice filled the room magnificently.
We sold out of one of our rum’s. We got rid of most of our whiskey. And we sold three bottles of wine (in a country where wine is kind of a new thing). Hector got up there to sing, too.
Hector’s voice really stood out with that guitar accompaniment. I was very impressed, boy’s got talent.
Like I said yesterday, it went on to the wee hours. 3:30 in the morning found things wrapped up. We closed our doors at 12 and just let the party go. Colombia is amazing in its embracing of jovial noises. Live and let live, for the most part.
We had been dealing with some homophobia the past couple of months. It was sad to hear people spreading rumours of Hector and I, that we were out to open a gay whorehouse (I’m telling truth), a gay bar, or some kind of ‘gay conversion’ place. Yeah, cuz we’re so sinister.
You know, I don’t think anyone’s had much luck ‘converting’ anyone to gay or straight. Yet people try or worry that others are trying.
With patience (again that word! I’m listening…) and perseverance, folks are seeing that Hector and I are out to provide a service (not a gay service) and that our 22 is not about sexuality (and peeps projected fears), it’s about an opportunity to live life more fully and have fun. Be gay if you want to. A mojito is a mojito, but I can make you a margarita if that’s what you’d like. Breaking down those ignorant walls we humans can all cling to at times, well, we’re gonna use a cocktail, a snazzy tune, art and ambiance to do that. Last night was a great step forward for the umbrella of culture.
Cheers.
