The Thing about Bachelorette Parties is...

Ok, So I do comedy at a Drag club in Chicago. I’m the master of ceremonies so to speak. So that means two things.  I love bachelorette parties, and I absolutely fucking hate bachelorette parties. 

I love them because they always fill out a show. Brides roll in deep with 10-20 of their best frenemies and are always kind enough to call ahead and book a table. As with any show, butts-in-seats is always a good thing. Frankly, they’re our bread and butter… we need them. Above that, all the performers split tips, and drunk becky bitches on a bender tip pretty well. Say what you will about women wearing penis necklaces, at least they’re generous. 

But I hate them because they are the WORST audience. They are so wrapped up in their own estrogen filled daze, they think they are the only people in the room. They don’t mean to be hecklers, it’s not surreptitious… but they just can’t goddamn stop themselves from talking and cackling amongst themselves throughout the entire show. I know it’s all in good fun… they just want a great night out. Who doesn’t? But the rest of us, we are at work. and we are just trying to put on a good show. Which is pretty damn hard when 15 women in the front row are acting like zoo animals.

I’ll give you an example. Last weekend we had a big party, of what I can only assume where sorority sisters. They were all blonde, looked exactly the same, and they were all drinking long island iced teas. Great for the bartenders, they’re the most expensive drink on the menu… but HELL for the rest of us. If you don’t know anything about long island iced teas, they are the devil. It’s a big tall glass of rum, gin, vodka and tequila and a splash of whatever (who even cares at that point, right?) It’s basically like high school, when you would take a tiny bit of alcohol from each of your parent’s bottles and mix it in to one gasoline cocktail so they wouldn’t notice any of it missing. 

So I go on stage, and right away, I see the long islands and I think “Oh jesus, here we go.” I open the show with a few jokes and I do my routine bit where I ask if anyone in the house is celebrating anything special and they LOSE THEIR GODDAMN MINDS. They all cheer. One of them tries to tell me a whole back story like, “We met in college and she’s marrying my brother, and he didn’t even go to our college, WHAT? Isn’t that crazy?” another one piped in, “This was my idea! we came here for my bachelorette party!” another one said “But they’re divorced now so this is also a divorce party. wuuuuoooo!”

I make a joke, something like, “Gee he didn’t stick around, huh? I can’t see why.” and they all love the roast. I try to settle them down and move on but it was like herding cats. They just weren’t having it. The bride said “Wait I have to go to the bathroom!” so I said into the microphone, “Yes, we’ll wait, please, take your penis necklace and go pee.” Everyone laughed, but even the rest of the crowd was beginning to get annoyed. So I did my best to ignore them, and introduced the first act, Muffy Fishbasket, and went back stage to scream into a pillow. 

When Muffy exited the stage she looked exhausted, “Jesus those blonde seagulls won’t shut up.” The next performer looked nervous. So, I pulled her in close and gave her a pep talk like a General in a war movie. “It’s okay, you’re going to be fine, it will all be going home soon, think of your cats, your beautiful cats. Remember your training, remember why the fuck we do this shit. It’s us or them and goddamnit we are going to win this thing. It’s all up to you now soldier.” and I sent her on stage. 

We were almost through to the end, when one of the matching barbie faces started crying. Not crying, but sobbing. Loudly, and for what seemed like no apparent reason. Not really what you want to round out the tail end of a comedy show… but there we were. Thinking quickly, I said “Free jello shots to anyone crying, it’s free jello shots night for sad bitches.” She perked right up. Free shit always gets peoples attention.  

So we made it to the end of the show, and we got a fat FAT ass tip from the offending gaggle, which made it a little hard to complain, overall. 

So bachelorette parties remain a one part love, two parts hate thing for me. I wish them no ill will, I know they just want to have fun… and goddamnit, I’m all about fun. But jesus-goddamn-CHRIST, lay off the long islands, would ya?