Behold, the Abbey's Big Fat Dance Floor!

If gays didn't invent camp, they certainly invented the audience for it. For instance, nearly every gay guy I know has a deep affection for Tim Burton's "Beetlejuice."

Catherine O'Hara and Winona Ryder could convince me to do almost anything. That's why, before I hit Boystown, I kicked off my evening down at karaoke bar Boardwalk 11 with "Beetlejuice's" calypso-flavored closing credits song "Jump in the Line (Shake Senora)."

It instigated a conga line that threatened to become a riot. We danced so hard, you could almost see Winona in her schoolgirl outfit lip-syncing with us.

Marcus and I pre-gamed with two Kentucky Bubble Baths, bourbon and lavender water, and then we hit the long stretch of SanMonBul towards homebase, otherwise known as Fiesta Cantina.

It's just a solid as Sears default place to start your night's adventures. Drinks are cheap, drinks are strong, and the music is never so loud you can't discuss who's been a bitch at work this week.

The theme of the evening was surely 'dance your ass off,' as earlier, my lesbian neighbors were playing Beyonce's "Run the World (Girls)" at such an insane volume, Marcus and I had a ten-minute dance party just outside their door.

Oh, but my lesbian encounters didn't stop there. (If that sounds like I'm hinting at something sexual, purge those thoughts now, you gutter-brains!) Upon entering Fiesta, happy hour must have been running out because a lesbian power couple in matching black fedoras decided I wasn't moving inside fast enough and gave me what could charitably be called as a 'little shove.'

I'm starting to think I'm the common denominator in this "Bossy Lesbian" phenomenon I've run afoul of on numerous occasions. My first Pride was Long Beach Pride, a festival noteworthy for its preponderance of same-sex lovin' females.

I was on my way to make good use of my beer cash when, out of the blue, Michelle Rodriguez's meaner sister body-checked me into the rainbow jewelry stand and bade me farewell with a cheery "watch where you're going!"

This happened three times that night, from three different women. Come on, what gives? I know gay guys and lesbians have this Cat vs. Dog thing going on, but really? Why must I anger you so?

So, back at Fiesta, Marcus ordered his traditional summer staple, a Malibu Rum and Pineapple Juice. I got my Citrus Bonanza, some Lemon Vodka with Sprite.

We were in flavor country. And because it was Fiesta, our modest decision to get singles landed us with two cups each of singles for the price of one.
"No, you mustn't, I couldn't, I'm such a lightweight, one drink and I'm flying, well okay" was how my conversation with the bartender went. I reached the Fiesta roof where I zigzagged right away to my favorite spot: my railing perch for observing the people passing below and the city's skyline ahead.
It makes me feel like such a movie detective.

We met up with our friend Adam, hereafter referred to as Other Adam, and his boyfriend Steven. Talk turned, as it usually does, to matters celebrity.

"Hey remember that week a couple months ago when there were two movies starring Alex Pettyfer coming out that were horrible and didn't do very well? You mean, I Am Number Four and Beastly? Yeah, and now he's in nothing."

I got a sickly feeling of icky that washed over me that I soon pinpointing as an overflow of negativity. I was in this beautiful Mexican-restaurant-color-scheme bar with wonderful friends on a stretch of boulevard that is run by My People. I knew I had to steer my conversation points in a more positive direction.

So, Other Adam, Marcus and I naturally started gushing about Old Hollywood.
Since the passing of the great Elizabeth Taylor, my Boystown friends and I have shared this similar feeling that the last of that era has ended.

But then I remembered: I just met Dick Van Dyke at his book signing, and he was a brimming-with-energy delight! Just the mention of the original D.V.D. (as I will now and forever refer to Mr. Van Dyke) got Other Adam's eyes a-fluttering. Years ago, Other Adam played the Disneyland face character of Cockney Bert from "Mary Poppins."

This boy clearly did it with gusto. He even got to meet Julie Andrews AS Bert! I would fall into an irretrievable coma if that were I.

Marcus and I wiped the D.V.D.-loving tears from our eyes, bid adieu to sleepy boyfriends Steven and Other Adam, and continued the theme of dancing (remember our theme?) all the way to the Abbey.

The Abbey might as well forbid conversations in its establishment, the music is so prominent. If Fiesta is the typical starting point, the Abbey is the never-ending finish line.

By the time you get to the Abbey, you should have had at least 2-3 drinks in your system, have dispensed with the pleasantries to your friends, and be ready to dive into a sensory overload experience.

The Abbey was featuring its new Big Fat Dance Floor plan-o-gram, which was a sight to see. Literally.

It's so much more open in that space; I can finally see where I'm going! What I was able to get a good view of were the new rafters the Abbey Go-Go Boys were straddling.

I'm sorry, Straight Clubs, but Go-Go Girls have nothing on the Abbey Go-Go Boys. Maybe it's all the extra leg muscles, but these guys were all pretty much Spider-Man in a Speedo up there. It's not human.

The night was heralded in with an explosion of confetti from the ceiling.

Marcus and I danced to whatever music they threw at us, fantastic or cheesy, and as the confetti fell into my open Pear and Ginger Ale, I thought "I've never been happier to be gay and here."