Tour of Homos: Felix's on the Square

Ending up at Felix's was a complete accident. After discovering that it's oddly unrelated neighbor, Oscar's, was closed for whatever reason, the other half of my own platonic odd couple, Jonathan Joseph, and I got in the car. Pulling out of our parking space, though, I stuck my head out of the window and caught a familiar whiff... like a ninja too desperate to stay in the shadows, my nose and I screamed, "Karaoke!"

You see, Jonathan Joseph loves to howl the self-fancied crooner's standard, Sweet Caroline. You may bare your teeth at the cliché but once those first two "Pluck. Pluck!"s hit, your ears perk up. Soon enough, you'll be howling in unison with the rest of the bar, "Ba! Ba! Baaaa!" like sheep. And Jonathan Joseph knows it. He loves being the one that people sing along with. The fun one who gets everybody all riled up. And you'll fall for it, because that's part of his charm.

So, not eight parking spots later, we abruptly pull over and hop out. After all, there was barely anyone in there. No long line of drunks in front of you waiting to butcher their own favorite pop songs! (Unlike another karaoke experience that I'm sure I'll get to in a later Tour of Homos.) Having saddled up to the bar, karaoke request slip in hand, I started to look around.

I like the smaller, less populated bars. You tend to find the seedier crowds and friendlier bartenders there. Felix's was alright. The bartender was indeed very friendly to me. Though, in fairness, he was actual friends with the adorable puppy I was chatting up. That puppy was probably the most surreal part of Felix's. His name was Dakota; his breed was unique but beautiful; his coat and teeth were shiny and clean; and, to my utter shock, he was smart, funny, and cool. In fact, most people there seemed surprisingly not frightening. Besides Dakota, I even gave my number to another male. He was a yappy but handsome breed.

But what made Felix's a good time, in addition to this slut with a heart of gold's ego boost when two males were sniffing my butt simultaneously, was the mix of surprisingly cool and expectably off the wall. I don't go on the Tour of Homos to meet nice, normal people. I go to watch the spectacle like that at the end of the bar. I'd say the highlight was when the twinky male escort (not a slam, but in fact his occupation) stripped down to his bright red jock strap and his needlessly shirtless friend sang Evanescence. To Felix's credit, singing Evanescence in public isn't a punishable offense. ... yet. And the wayward circus kids were asked to re-robe. Though probably not before the escort scored a few more clients.