Someone built a gay bar in Parramore

by Mark Baratelli, Parramore Correspondent
TheDailyCity.com

Last night when I looked around the newly-built "Stonewall Bar" white in the heart of Parramore, it struck me that I was in very good company. There was Michael Wanzie, the GodFather of downtown theatre. Doug Baauser, the comedy genius. Billy Manes, longtime voice of the print-larious... and one smart bartender who built a gay bar in Parramore, right down the street from the being-built Orlando Event Center, right near a park, right near everything that is going to be happening in downtown in the next 5 years. Soon, this part of town is gonna be seething with moneyed foot traffic pouring out of the basketball church. People wanting nightlife and fun. People being BEGGED by Plaza Cinema Theatre and City Arts Factory to cross I4. People who need a good stiff gay drink.

This bartender is a genius.

Now when I entered the bar I disliked him before I even met him. I didn't google map the bar before I drove downtown and that was his fault. When I got downtown I stupidly assumed the bar would be somewhere near the old Church Street Station. I mean logically, you'd just ASSUME it would be. It should be in one of those former dance halls or whatever those things were/are/is. So I pre-pay $5 in the meter (which you can do in the lot hidden under the udders of I4) and walk my fat jeans over to Church Street Station and find no Stonewall bar. I am also shouldering a backpack with a VERY expensive laptop bought and paid for with the sweat of my brow "acting" in non-equity stage productions, which is heavy. (both the backpack and the shame). So now I'm not in a gay bar, I am wearing jeans in the sun and I am carrying something heavy. Fart.

I go into Hamburger Marys. The only location of this Gay Chilis franchise I've been in before is Cincinnati. After I kareoke'd my raunchy version there of "Natural Woman" on a tiny wooden stage in the half-bar, half-restaurant "concept" to thunderous Cincinnati applause and one free Cincinnati double, I met a guy who was actually impressed that I was in the ensemble of the third-year non-equity touring company of Oliver (um, and also understudying Fagin thankyadammit) and not bothered by me demanding he try to find my abs beneath my gut which I'd long lost in the great Mark depression of 2004.

The helpful staff at the downtown Orlando Hamburger Marys (and they were nice btw) had heard of the name of the bar, bt didn't know exactly where it was. They had just heard it was down the road. As in, ease on. Yes, down Church Street in the OPPOSITE direction of the Plaza Cinema Theatre and the Downtown Arts District. On the other side of I-4. (scream)

Someone built a gay bar in Parramore?

I cannot wait to see this. I jean it, passing my sweaty crotch by three homeless men (one of whom almost asks me something), a group of kids and a Russian woman asking me if she can help me because I "look lost." She doesn't know that that's my signature facial expression. I get to that apartment building painted all shades of puke and am confused. Where is it? Its not where I want it to be.

I text the friend I am supposed to meet, and explain how deep into the Parramore I am and that I see no signs of Hamburger Mary-like behavior. He says to keep walking. (scream) Fine. Now my sweat has turned to anger.

Then I see a park. Beautiful. Green. Benches. Lake. Trees. And I can see the bar. It exists. Yay! This should make me happy, but it does not.

I swing open the door and for the next ten minutes, pretend that what I am saying is not really happening and who I am is not really who I am. I GO OFF on the bartender, asking him indignantly, why I did not know where this bar was. Who builds a gay bar in Parramore, I harp at him. I kept on riffing on my stupidity until the hand of Michael Wanzie is placed upon my shoulder and I am told to discontinue my unfunny rant because no one finds it funny or charming. I turn around and no one is laughing.

So here I stand, sweat drying, computer bag next to my foot, in a gay bar, in Parramore. Paradigm shifted. I order myself a Cincinnati double and feel up my own gut.