From: fjvwing@cs.vu.nl (FJ!!)
Newsgroups: soc.motss
Subject: Where to find FJ!! on a Friday night/Saturday morning.
Date: 14 Apr 92 13:55:33 GMT

So there I was, sitting on the stairs in the C-ring a few weeks ago,
tired of having danced for three hours, looking at the people passing
me by, thinking it was time for some change. The dancing had been nice,
it was the first time since I had broken up with Ed, I think.

I like this place, it has a small dance floor on the lowest floor, a
small and dark bar on the floor above it and a small darkroom at the
top. The Cockring, as it is officially called, has a night-license,
which means that they open until five. It is situated on the the
Warmoesstraat, the street with the most leatherbars. It doesn't attract
the full-leather men, but more the men that like the feel of excitement
that comes with it, and the boys that were thrown out of the
dance-floors that closed earlier.

I've had it with the scene that is nice enough to take your mother
with, the attitude that this new jacket will really make the world
better. I like the feel and honesty of the Warmoesstraat: 'we can talk,
but make no mistake, I want to fuck some time tonight.' No bullshit.

The bar upstairs has two TV screens where they show porn, the bar
downstairs has one of these strips of small red lights that displays
messages whizzing by.  One of the messages was 'Wanted: barhelp.' That
is what I read when I sat there.  I don't know what inside of me started
saying 'nothing ventured, nothing gained,' but it made me take action.
I enquired.

I now have a job.

Every Friday night from 1AM till 6AM, I take the empty glasses and
bottles away, and help restock the bars from the central fridge. I
actually make some money with it.

Ok, so it is actuall work. But then again, it has this redeeming smutty
glamour about it: this is one of the hotspots of gay cruising here, and
the place gets packed.

It is allright, the wierd hours are no problem for me, it is only once
a week anyway.  Sometimes I get a little problems with breathing due to
carrying stuff in the haze of smoke, artificial fog and poppers, but
then I just go to the door to breathe some outside air. It gives me an
excuse to talk to the doorman.

At 4 AM I get this crunch, this feeling that I wish it were over, only
two more hours to go. I practcally know the videos by heart now, after
three weeks.

What I find really difficult is telling wether a beerbottle is empty.
The 'cozy' lighting doesn't help much with these brown bottles. I must
learn to tell better wich bottles look orphaned, I guess it must be
very annoying to have me take away your bottle while there is still
this wonderfully refreshing last swig left in it.

My real problem is that I flirt too much with the customers, and one of
these days, one of them is not going to take 'hey, I'm sorry, but I'm
working now' for an answer but drag me to the darkroom to finish what
he started and what I couldn't resist following up on. I really should
just work. But hey, getting cruised still makes me feel flattered, and
who am I to ignore that?  Last time someone piched my ass, I just
smiled. I've figured out the perfect answer for the next time someone
asks me when I'm picking up _his_ bottle: 'When it is empty. And not a
minute sooner.'

I'll be working on Queens Day as well, and probably the Friday night
afterwards. So, you know where to find me: I'm the blond feeling up
your bottle in the C-ring in the Warmoesstraat, Amsterdam, and probably
taking it away too soon.
						FJ!!