So, check it out: I got freaky with 2 Live Crew at a lesbian bar in Penngrove last night.
My plan was just to work on my novel, but some friends called to say that 2 Live Crew was playing at the Black Cat Bar in Penngrove.
Now, in the event you’re not familiar with Penngrove, worry not — it’s a teeny little dot on the map nestled between Petaluma (what was once known as “the egg basket of the nation” and now, ironically, has more lattes per capita than Marin) and Cotati (which hosts annually the Accordian festival). In short: blink while you’re driving up Hwy 101 and you miss it.
And yet: 2 Live Crew was playing there.
In the event you’re not familiar with 2 Live Crew, they were a controversal rap group in the late 80′s / early 90′s due to their misogynistic and sexually ‘lewd’ lyrics — and the show last night was no different. Apparently, 2 Live Crew plays at the Black Cat because it is the only venue that hasn’t banned them from playing in the area.
Additionally, two “X Ryda Dancers” joined the act, and what an act it was (the dancers, actually, were two very lovely young ladies. After the show we had a conversation where we discussed their travel destinations, why they enjoy thier career choices, and how all of their dance moves ‘begin from the ankles.’) Let’s just say my 16 bucks was as much to see the Crew as it was for a small-time porn show.
So I wasn’t really sure how I felt when I got pulled on “stage” (a sectioned off corner of the hardwood floor) by one of the Crew memebers to ‘join the show’. But then I thought to myself:
“How many chances in life does one get to freak a 2 Live Crew member, really?”
So I joined, and I shook my ghetto booty.
And as I was shaking it, bending backwards as Fresh Kid Ice was holding the arch of my back in one hand and the mic in the other, rappin’ –
“Ohhh, me so horny, oh, oh, me so hooorny” –
I surveyed the room upside-down, watched as everything pulsed and echoed back and forth between the small rickety walls of the bar. It was nothing short of Divine: 2 Live Crew rapping to salvage their glory days; the X Ryda Dancers barely-clothed, dancin’ and shakin’ their ghetto booties and lickin’ things and bendin’ in ways I can’t even imagine; straight guys going wild for the dancers; lesbians perplexed by bananas and whip cream being throated on stage; old-time locals sitting around the bar thinking these city folks are nuts; the city folks thinking the whole mess of it is a quaint good time; and myself, thinking:
“…I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.”
