Did we go clubbing in NYC as teenagers? Sure we did. The first club I went to, at age 15, was Ice Palace 57, a gay disco in midtown, where my best friend Sarah and I, in our carpenter pants and halter tops, danced until 2am on the totally packed and sweaty dance floor. None of the men seemed to mind. By the early ‘80s we were at Hurrah every Saturday, where, as I wrote in The Queens of Montague Street, “they had live bands, where some old dude was sure to offer you a Quaalude; and where, because I one night wore black sunglasses, they called me Jackie O.” What I really kept going back to Hurrah for was The Rockats, and especially their lead singer Tim, who I totally crushed on and who one night from the stage tossed me his sweaty t-shirt, which I expected to keep forever but in fact left in the cab on the way home…
