Lee Chappell by Gerry Visco / flickr.com/photos/gerryvisco/
My mind is usually in the gutter and so is my bowling ball. That’s why Gutterball Lounge & Discotheque's opening night was a strike. The party’s every Tuesday at Lucky Strike, located on 42nd Street and the West Side Highway. The place is so huge it could fit a couple of army brigades, but the Gutterball party itself is tucked into a corner of a private lounge with four lanes and a bar. The price is right: free with a $2 cover after midnight. “Strike! I got two strikes!” one of the pretty boys exclaimed to his even prettier partner. The crowd is mixed between gay, straight and in-between. While I didn’t get around to knocking down any pins, I planned to next time since bowling is free with shoe rental. Putting on a pair of multi-colored sneakers freshly sprayed with disinfectant is far more comfy than my disco spikes.
Lee Chappell is the host at Gutterball. He’s been responsible for groovy nightlife for years, including the Saturday nights at the Palladium and Roxy, parties at Limelight, Tunnel and now Drip! He’s assembled a glittering crew of nut jobs who frolicked on the dance floor: Karl Giant was a giant pastel blue & pink pouff-ball, Matt Stetson was all post-op bandaged, and what kind of freak was that 6-footed magenta rooster? Extraterrestrials Raquel Gilberstein and Hector Perez, the ALieNatioN duo, were visiting for the night from outer space, resplendent in twinkling body suits. “What planet are you from?” I asked them. Maybe they couldn’t speak since there was no reply. Lady Rizo and Shien Lee were decked out for their show and the room was full of the POP Destroy art by Andrew Hahn, Crayola bright paintings of all-American characters like Tammy Faye Baker, George W. and Genesis P-Orridge.
Chappell, who has the mordancy of a Quentin Crisp, has hired talented DJs (Michael T. and Steve Sidewalk) and a VJ (Holly Daggers’ surreal videos projected across the bowling alley lanes).
“Ooooh! I love that silhouette,” gender-bender Brad Janney cried, ominous black netting framing his face, a bevy of Busby Berkeley ladies shadowed behind.
