A New Year Surprise

I had heard that our stage and lighting designer, Clifton Taylor, and his partner, Peter Vincent, were headed to Canada to get married on this New Years week, but what I didn't expect was this beautiful listing in the New York Times Weddings section for the two of them.

So, since I don't have my computer/camera situation straightened out yet, I thought I'd ring in the new year by celebrating their marriage and to reiterate how barbaric I think it is that so many people in this country can't get over themselves enough to allow gay people the same civil rights as straight people.

But, since our musical is about a big, gay marriage, maybe we can help break down some of those barriers and open peoples' eyes to the fact that we are just as worthy and deserve just as much fairness as (gasp!) heterosexuals. It's even more appalling to me that they do this discrimination in the name of whatever god they happen to be worshiping at the time (as if I'm supposed to follow the rules of their god). (And if you click on the link, there's even a video of the two of them, the first gay couple to get this kind of treatment from the Times -- Big Voice, by extension, breaks ground again.)

BUT, BE THAT AS IT MAY, we had a TERRIFIC new year's eve. Two wonderful shows on Sunday. Then we went to two separate parties. At both, of course, we were handing out flyers and meeting new people. I met K.T. Sullivan, who is a wonderful singer ("Sing my songs!") who does shows with my old bar singin' pal, Mark Nadler at Ted Seifman's party, where there was more food than anyone could eat.

Then, we were off to "Club 39," also known as Dickie Bell's. Unfortunately, I had left my video camera at Ted's, so I missed recording one of the great New Year's "shows" of all time where they saluted the year's dead show biz people with musical clues, and finished off with "sample songs from that new musical based on Alfred Hitchcock's 'Psycho' called 'Grand Motel.'"

The streets of New York were JAM PACKED with people and it was impossible to even GET near Times Square unless you had some kind of ticket. In fact, you couldn't go from 9th Ave. to 8th Ave. unless you lived there or had a ticket, or had someone come get you who lived there. It was madness.

After the party was over, about 3:30am, we left "Club 39" (called that because it's Dickie's apartment on the 39th floor) it was raining cats and dogs. We had to bribe a cab driver to get us home. But it was worth it.

I wish all the Bonus Round readers a sensational new year. To say we feel blessed and lucky and happy is the biggest understatement of the century. I ring in a toast to Clifford and Peter and to all the gay couples out there who can't get to Canada to get married. I ring in a toast to all my single friends looking for love. May you find it this year -- just look in all the unexpected places.

And, of course, to Jimmy, my own partner. Let's keep doing this. Okay?