That Gay Backpacker

My friend and I had heard about Oaxaca’s only gay club (I say “heard”, it was actually rabid Googling on my part), Privado 502, and that you had to knock on the window to get in, so we were mighty pleased that we had some new found amigos that could lead the way. And yes, once we got there, there was no sign on the door, and I’m pretty sure we would have never braved that knock on the window if we weren’t in the company of a pair of locals. Although we did actually have a substantial amount of mezcal in our bellies. Once inside, it was like being in somebody’s front room. A small dance floor, a small bar – only the bare minimum of what is required to call a club a club. But regardless, I thought it had charm, and me and my travel chum partied until everyone was kicked out. I kissed a homo, she kissed a homo. Everyone wins. Especially Oaxaca.

(FYI, there are other gay venues in Oaxaca. But Club Privado 502 was the only one I could find at the time. So there).

December 14, 2012