My mate threw a board game party, low key and chill. He threw open his high-end booze cabinet, as long as we brought some too even if it were cheap. We wrapped up the night playing spyfall.crabhat.com. Basically, where one person is a spy who doesn’t know where he is, and no-one knows whom is who. So, the workers need to figure out the spy and the spy needs to figure out where they are. I headed off home on the train.
As the train crossed the harbour bridge headed into the Wynyard tunnel, I remembered there was a bar I’ve always wanted to visit it sounded cool, 357 Sussex, and I was horny and tipsy. All I knew is that it was queer. I get off at townhall station and walked the 3min to the bar. Up the stairs I went to be greeted with a giant leather weaved French door with a slim window on the side. Behind the window all I see are large horizontal shelves which seemed to be stacked with towels to infinitum with a warm hum of washing machines and dryers. I tell the clerk, “Hi the website said to tell you it’s my first time so you’ll introduce me.” So then he gives me the whole spiel with an entertained smirk. It’s a bath-house bar for gay men, only towels allowed beyond the changing rooms. So, I’m bisexual and I’m like, ‘oOO0oooo’. I pay the $26 cover charge and go in, pure entertained by the concept and curiosity.