The Hotel Washington
I remember it like it was yesterday. I was 19, spending my Friday nights at the New Bar insidethe center of Madison’s LGBTQ nightlife — The Hotel Washington. For months, I’d heard about the legendary “leather bar in the basement” — RODS. I heard stories about who went there andwhat happened behind that door. My curiosity grew until I knew I had to see it for myself.
Being under 21 made entry a challenge, but I was determined. For weeks, I befriended thebouncers and staff at the Hotel Washington, chatting with them about community happenings and occasionally slipping in questions about RODS. The stories I heard — of men in leather, the tight, sweaty atmosphere, the smell of sex in the air — filled me with lust and fueled my late-night fantasies.
One night, when the New Bar was packed and the staff distracted, I put my plan into motion. Islipped out the dance floor door into the back stairwell, where I was greeted by the bouncer.Heart racing, I told him that Ken, the New Bar manager, had asked me to go downstairs to grab something from Alan at RODS. Distracted by the line of patrons, the bouncer waved me through.I descended the staircase as Crystal Waters’ “100% Pure Love” faded into a dark, thumping techno beat. Except for a few black lights, the bar was nearly pitch black. My eyes hadn’t adjusted yet, but my other senses took over. The smell of cologne was replaced with sweat, musk, and leather. I was instantly aroused.
When my vision adjusted, I saw a sea of men — in leather, tight jeans, shirts off, chests hairy, some with paddles or floggers at their hips. Cowboy hats, trucker hats, Freddie Mercury mustaches everywhere. I didn’t speak to anyone, I couldn’t; I was too entranced. I stayed about 30 minutes before slipping back upstairs to avoid arousing suspicion. Later that night, back at my studio apartment, I turned the memory into one of the most intense orgasms of my life. That night began my kink journey.
Over the next nine months, I became friends with the staff and regulars at RODS. I no longer had to sneak in — I had unfettered access. I learned about flogging, spanking, watersports, bondage, and more. Sometimes, I was even invited home by patrons to watch or participate.
But on February 18, 1996, shortly before sunrise, the Hotel Washington was destroyed by fire. In just a few hours, the place where so many in Madison’s LGBTQ+ community felt safe — and where I had discovered my kink identity — was gone. While other bars opened in the years that followed, I never again felt that same freedom to express myself. I retreated into a more “acceptable” image — GAP jeans and polos — and my sexual expression dimmed.
For years, I hid my desires for impact play, watersports and other kinks. When I did mention them, partners laughed or were scared. I conformed to what was considered “normal.”
That changed about four years ago, during COVID, when a chance Grindr conversation with a very sexy 26-year-old — Delta — reopened the door. Our chat was honest, open, and free of shame. We even bonded over our shared love of Star Wars. Eventually, we met in person at Five Nightclub. Nervous but excited, I found myself welcomed not just by Delta but by others he introduced me to — my first night with the pet community.
Thanks to Delta, I grew more comfortable expressing my kink side. When I put on a pup hood for the first time, I felt empowered and safe. That night, Mando was born. I realized there was nothing to be ashamed of.
Encouraged by pups like Delta, Audy, and Aksel, I eventually ran for the Wisconsin Fetish title — and won. Over the last year as Wisconsin Fetish titleholder, I’ve met incredible people, learned more about trans and non-binary issues, and become a stronger advocate during these politically charged times. I’ve even had the opportunity to teach my cosplay kink class — Dirty and Nerdy — at Route 66 and Indiana Leather & Kink Weekend.
I’ve learned that kinks and fetishes are meant to be celebrated, not hidden. My journey has haddetours, but it is far from over. In fact, I believe it’s only just beginning.
