Life's a Drag Sometimes

Working as the host MC at a drag/burlesque show, you see a lot of things. Haunt your dreams sort of things. On any given weekday in the basement of dingy yet vaguely elegant speakeasy, glitter-high divas can be found battling for supremacy as Inebriated onlookers applaud and heckle in a chorus of approval or resplendent hostility.  They are hissing venomous snakes making the most of an open bar while clouds of smoke billow out from back stage. The Queens exclaim their battle cry, "yazzz queen" and snap their delicate fingers.  It's the kind of place that would make Boy George say "Jeeze, tone it down a notch, it's Tuesday night for chrissake!"  It's Caligula's wet dream. It's a place where all your comedy dreams can come true one night, and the next the audience is scraping you off their designer shoes like a grey lump of old gum. It thunderdome. It's two double gin and tonics just to get on stage. It's 30 honey boo-boos fighting for one tiara, and you're the idiot holding it... It's glorious. 

One night, during Pride week, I decided to tell a joke about gay marriage. The joke goes like this: "Who here supports gay marriage?" Pause for applause, Then I say, "I don't support gay marriage... but that's probably because my girlfriend wants me to get gay married!" (*Badum Ching*) If that joke didn't land, I'd say, "I'm also not allergic to cats but I don't want her to move in with me!" Or some ad-lib to that effect. I don't have a girlfriend, but I thought it was harmless enough, and moderately funny. So what the hell, right?

So after the pride parade the venomous snakes where in unusually sloppy condition, even for them, but I took the stage confidently and I started to tell the joke. "Who here supports gay marriage?" The crowd cheered uproariously, leaving their seats. A few howls and whistles followed, some glasses clanked. I went on, "I don't support gay marriage because...." The snakes began to seethe, hissing so loud I couldn't finish my sentence. The hissing was followed by booing. The booing was followed by slurred heckling. One guy yelled, "Go back to China bitch!" which is both amazing and confusing, since I remain to this day, a blonde Anglo american, with very little resemblance to a Chinese person.

The main heckler was in the front row. A hairy flamboyant man wearing overalls and aviators and nothing else. Not even shoes.
I tried to recover the space to speak, but he kept yelling at me. I could smell the pepperoni on his breath. I said, "from your breath I can tell you've had enough sausage for one day so stop being such a dick!" It very loosely made sense. I was grasping at straws and  it was the best I could do at short notice. I almost had the audience back in my corner when he pulled out an ace from his non-sleeve. He started chanting, "Adam and Steve, Adam and Steve, Adam and Steve, Adam and Steve" gesturing to the audience to join him. They did. The snakes had overpowered me. I lost all hope of salvation. 

But as they say... The show must go on. Unable to use my words to gain favor and not sure what else to do, I began taking off my clothes. I unzipped my dress in an awkward albeit sensuous way to reveal a rainbow bra. I had worn it specifically for the pride festivities and thought this visual show of allyship might gain me some footing upon which to climb back to higher ground. It worked. The heckles slowly turned into cheers. Hope at last. I very sassily worked the dress down past my hips onto the floor revealing a matching set of rainbow panties. They were all cheering now. This probably would have been plenty but I was full of rage, coursing with adrenaline and it seems the moment overtook me. I slid my panties off in one smooth motion, balled them up and threw them angrily at the overalled heckler in the front row. 

They promptly bounced off of his face and landed in his pint of beer, with a tiny unapologetic splash. An awkward silence fell. My bare naked Vagina held her breath in anticipation. The heckler took the panties out, shook them off, raised his glass in salute and then downed the whole thing. It was magnificent. And just like that... The show did go on, and it was medium.

We made it to the end and sent the snakes home in their respective Ubers, escaping with our lives. That was enough for us. [As a small aside... I should mention that because it was a theater event, as opposed to a bar event, full nudity is allowed, and so I didn't get in any trouble for going full beaver on everyone.] Not that I would have minded the trouble. If I had to do it all over again, it would have gone the exact same way, consequences be damned! Fuck you snakes... this is my goddamn dream job and you'll have to rip the microphone from my cold dead, glitter filled hands. 

All in all, it made for an amazing story. I tell it a lot at parties. But perhaps the best part, was the next day when I went to the dry cleaner to dryclean one. single. pair. of rainbow underwear. I brought the beer-funked underwear in and laid it on the counter and said something apologetic. The effeminate, no... lets say fabulous man behind the counter looked at the underwear...looked up at me and said, "that's pride bitch!" snapping his graceful fingers and gave me my pickup receipt.

He gets it.