Gay Bar Scene

Lorena Saint Cartier preps in the basement.

Divas Show Which Club Is The Boss

By Michael Cusenza

It’s one of those nights in Jackson Heights. The air is perfect – warm enough where just a T-shirt will suffice, but a teasing breeze reminds all that spring still reigns. It’s a night that begs for cheap takeout, dusty oscillating fans and a post-meal stroll. A night where you could park yourself by an open window, nurse a cold beer and just imbibe the beeps, whirrs, and horns of nocturnal Roosevelt Avenue. A night where destinations may take a backseat to comfortable wandering.

It’s the last Friday night of May, the official kickoff to the unofficial first weekend of summer in the city. There’s an appreciable energy on Roosevelt, especially at 77th Street. That’s because it’s a big night for Club Atlantis, one of Queens’ most popular gay clubs.

Friday nights are designated for divas at Atlantis. The drag queen show starts at 2 a.m.

One by one, cabs, limos or private cars pull up to the front on Roosevelt, or on the side at 77th, and the grand belles of the drag ball exit their carriages and strut fiercely toward the velvet ropes. Costumes run the gamut from the outrageous, to the extravagant, to the understated. Some passersby gawk, while others offer a giddy laugh and snap pictures on their cell phone cameras. Diva entourages vary in size, and not all queens will be performing tonight.

But, then again, all of them will be performing tonight.

At around 1:15 a.m. there are no lines to get into Atlantis. A handful of people mill about the Roman column-guarded entrance, and the distinct faint thumping of techno reverberates throughout the vestibule. Manager Hector Bedoya, 42, greets old friends and performers with a hug, a warm smile and a peck on the cheek. Dressed in a teal shirt and white sport jacket, Bedoya is jovial in nature and very welcoming to all guests that walk through the door. To the right is the entrance to the main floor of Atlantis; to the left is a dimly-lit staircase that leads to the basement.

The basement level of the club is a dank storage area that doubles as a dressing room for the divas. Lonely hangers cling to long clothing racks that line the right wall. Old costumes and decorations lean against the walls and an active ice machine hums in the background.

Friends Tavern keeps busy, thanks in part to the shirtless bartenders.

Divas – some already in costume, others in pre-transformation mode – head straight for the vanity cove tucked into the far left corner of the basement. Loud, excited laughter fills the somewhat narrow room as performers and assistants exchange kisses and hearty embraces before they get settled. Duffle bags and dresses start to accumulate on hangers and folding chairs.

Virtually no English is spoken. Jackson Heights boasts a diverse Latino community, and the crowd and performers at Atlantis reflect this mix. Conversations collide with Bonnie Tyler’s “I Need a Hero” blaring from a boom-box near the mirror, creating a traffic jam of human energy and activity that lights up the otherwise cool, smoky setup downstairs.

One thing that is most evident to the eye amid this vibrant chaos is the unabashed nature of the performers. Articles of clothing fly as divas in various states of undress search for the perfect look. At one point half the room becomes an unsettling mix of ‘80s theme music, Spanish, feathers, thongs and breasts. Some divas work the imaginary catwalk down the center of the room. It feels like a Victoria’s Secret fashion show directed by Willy Wonka and Hunter S. Thompson.

As it nears the diva hour, Hector returns from upstairs, offers a quick smile and returns to his cell phone which appears to be permanently attached to his hand. The divas are ready for their close-up; the crowd wants its dolls. It’s time to move. It’s time to take the circus upstairs.

The main floor of Atlantis is like watching a Quentin Tarantino film on fast-forward. There’s a lot to absorb. The pulsating redundant rhythm of techno dominates everything and flashing lights seem to move in-sync with the music. Similar to the myriad mainstream Manhattan clubs, it’s an assault on the senses that takes a while to get used to.

The ladies at Chueca keep the party going.

Just with more men; a lot more men.

Once your eyes adjust to the unnerving combination of bright flashes and silhouettes it’s easy to see that the club is packed. Age varies, but white seems to be a contagious color when it comes to attire. Large bouquets of white balloons drip from the ceiling near the wraparound bar that abuts the dance floor. Male bartenders clad in white tank tops sling a variety of concoctions from Coronas to cosmopolitans and waiters dressed in tight white outfits surf the crowd for drink orders.

Atlantis is not a big club. Patrons are mostly divided between the relatively small dance floor, bar area, and lounges that skirt the outer walls. The heat was overwhelming at times, but this is to be expected in a club practically filled to capacity. It’s almost impossible to walk a couple of feet without bumping into someone, especially since this is a Friday night.

Because that’s when the divas come out.

Minutes before 2 a.m. you can feel a palpable anticipatory buzz on the main floor as the crowd eagerly awaits the drag queen show. The lights above the dance floor drop out as seemingly the whole club moves to get a better view of the stage that faces the bar. The clamor is so loud it competes with the music, which has now turned to salsa and merengue.

A bartender at Atlantis keeps the customers happy.

A hush falls over the crowd and the view to the stage is swallowed up by bodies. Cameras flash, hoping to capture the exact moment the madness begins. Catcalls and whistles give way to an earth-shattering boom – an explosion of light and sound as the black velvet stage curtain drops revealing tonight’s featured performer, Lorena Saint Cartier, and two male dancers. The crowd erupts and for a few seconds it feels as if the club is on the verge of imploding. The scene is so frenzied it’s almost impossible to see the stage. All eyes are on Ms. Saint Cartier.

And with this, the divas once again establish their reign of Atlantis.

Lorena Saint Cartier Takes the stage.

Spilling out onto Roosevelt Avenue around 2:30 a.m. and it’s like time stopped hours ago. The streets are still buzzing, the 7 train clacks and roars overhead and the air is still warm and crisp. The stuttering flash of disco lights is replaced by a steady diet of bodega bulbs, traffic signals and the moon. A few stragglers amble into Atlantis. Maybe they know what to expect, maybe they don’t. For some it will leave an indelible mark on their mind.

For others, it’s just one of those nights in Jackson Heights.

Gay Bars In Queens

Chueca Bar , 69-04 Woodside Ave., Woodside

Club Atlantis , 76-19 Roosevelt Ave., Jackson Heights

Duque’s Tavern , 72-19 Roosevelt Ave., Jackson Heights

Friends Tavern , 78-11 Roosevelt Ave., Jackson Heights

Llamarada , 82-20 Baxter Ave., Jackson Heights

Magic Touch , 73-13 37th Rd., Jackson Heights

Montana Saloon , 40-08 74th St., Jackson Heights

Music Box , 40-08 74th St., Jackson Heights

Data: about.com