On March 14, a club full of gay men thundered with excitement after a long night's wait. It wasn't because the bartender replaced the kegs of cosmos. Lady Gaga had arrived. The night before her Monster Ball Tour hit the American Airlines Center with the Scissor Sisters, Twitter's rumor mill was spinning. She was there. She was at the jam-packed Round-Up Saloon on Oak Lawn. "Please don't rush the stage," the club's announcer said over the P.A, "or I'll kick you in the nuts." Someone nearby screamed, "Is she here?" Then it happened. Fast. Like a lightning strike, she stepped on the wooden dance floor, performed "Born This Way," and left. It was fast and furious, and something very special. There was a sense of genuine care, love and community in the air. There was a sense that we all caught the view of something fleeting and good. We all saw an artist at work, just for a moment. Whether you love or hate her, in that moment, she was great. It was an exciting moment in a city that pretends to have too few.