CHUECA 69-04 WOODSIDE AVENUE QUEENS, NY OPEN 2005-2009 (NOW REGENT RESTAURANT EQUIPMENT, PICTURED) “Chueca is a Spanish word meaning ‘not straight,’ and everyone speaks that language inside this Colombian-owned Jackson Heights lesbian nightclub. The space’s scruffy interior—barely lit in blue neon and festooned with mirrors—resembles a delightfully sleazy South Beach joint. The few small tables and stiff chairs keep the dark-haired, midriff-sporting patrons on their feet, where they’d probably be anyway, writhing to salsa and reggaeton on the mis-matched tiled floor or shooting pool beneath an aptly Sapphic etching of two nudes embracing. Friday and Saturday nights are the main attractions, as the tight-knit crew of scantily dressed chicas packs in for Latin D.J.'s, body shots off the good-looking bartenders, and swills of Chueca’s namesake drink (Malibu, Bailey's, and Kahlua lit afire).” (Elizabeth Cline, Nymag.com) “‘What I love about Chueca (69-04 Woodside Ave),’ said bar promoter Marlene Jiminez about the Woodside establishment and the only full-time lesbian bar in Queens, ‘is the beautiful women.’ A recent visit during Chueca’s Mardi Gras party revealed she was right. Imagine all that a young horny dude could ever want and dream—then gently turn him away at the door. Boobs: There were a lot of them. A pretty shot-girl in a gold bikini sold Jell-O shots off a tray while others lit flaming mystery Chueca shots from behind the bar; another woman, in a man’s fedora and white top, got freaked from behind, then pulled her shirt down to flash her breasts, before descending down the dance floor throng of mostly young Colombian, Dominican, and Puerto Rican girls. A bartender with long, wavy, brown hair jumped up on the bar and—in a move that would have left us impaled for life on a Jim Beam bottle—leaned out into the crowd while grasping on to the ceiling beam and performed some type of primo-volcanic Shakira bootyshake. Who are these women? And why aren’t there more places like this? ‘People need to realize they don’t have to head out to Manhattan,’ Jiminez said. When [they do], there could be more business. [Right now] the demand isn’t there, so owners aren’t taking a chance of opening lesbian bars in Queens.’” (Corina Zappia, The Village Voice, 2007)

CHUECA 69-04 WOODSIDE AVENUE QUEENS, NY OPEN 2005-2009 (NOW REGENT RESTAURANT EQUIPMENT, PICTURED) “Chueca is a Spanish word meaning ‘not straight,’ and everyone speaks that language inside this Colombian-owned Jackson Heights lesbian nightclub. The space’s scruffy interior—barely lit in blue neon and festooned with mirrors—resembles a delightfully sleazy South Beach joint. The few small tables and stiff chairs keep the dark-haired, midriff-sporting patrons on their feet, where they’d probably be anyway, writhing to salsa and reggaeton on the mis-matched tiled floor or shooting pool beneath an aptly Sapphic etching of two nudes embracing. Friday and Saturday nights are the main attractions, as the tight-knit crew of scantily dressed chicas packs in for Latin D.J.'s, body shots off the good-looking bartenders, and swills of Chueca’s namesake drink (Malibu, Bailey's, and Kahlua lit afire).” (Elizabeth Cline, Nymag.com) “‘What I love about Chueca (69-04 Woodside Ave),’ said bar promoter Marlene Jiminez about the Woodside establishment and the only full-time lesbian bar in Queens, ‘is the beautiful women.’ A recent visit during Chueca’s Mardi Gras party revealed she was right. Imagine all that a young horny dude could ever want and dream—then gently turn him away at the door. Boobs: There were a lot of them. A pretty shot-girl in a gold bikini sold Jell-O shots off a tray while others lit flaming mystery Chueca shots from behind the bar; another woman, in a man’s fedora and white top, got freaked from behind, then pulled her shirt down to flash her breasts, before descending down the dance floor throng of mostly young Colombian, Dominican, and Puerto Rican girls. A bartender with long, wavy, brown hair jumped up on the bar and—in a move that would have left us impaled for life on a Jim Beam bottle—leaned out into the crowd while grasping on to the ceiling beam and performed some type of primo-volcanic Shakira bootyshake. Who are these women? And why aren’t there more places like this? ‘People need to realize they don’t have to head out to Manhattan,’ Jiminez said. When [they do], there could be more business. [Right now] the demand isn’t there, so owners aren’t taking a chance of opening lesbian bars in Queens.’” (Corina Zappia, The Village Voice, 2007)