A Night in Dragtopia

It's almost time. At approximately 7:12 PM I put my laptop down and stand up from my seat that my body has been relaxing in for the past few hours. I look in the mirror and smile. Its almost time for drinking, dancing, good company, and most importantly it is time to watch fabulous gay men empower their inner goddess by prancing around in big wigs, six-inch heels, painted faces and glamorous clothing.Yes, tonight is Spin Night Club’s Dollhouse Drag Show!

I shower, get dressed in something cute and fun...but of course I have to make sure I do not upstage the drag queens. Ha. That was a joke. Though I still take the extra fifteen minutes to apply my usual going-out face—shimmery eye-shadow, black liquid eyeliner, and dark red lipstick. A miniscule attempt compared to the “ladies” who will be performing on stage. Their faces are like clean canvases in which they create a beautiful work of art upon, while my cat-eye look took years of practice and still never turns out the way I want it to.  

At 9:00 PM I walk out of the train stop and onto Belmont. It is dark but the streets are lit by the bars, the Starbucks, and the sex-shops. People are walking at a fairly fast pace to their destination and I am finally at mine. The building is made of brick and is about five stories high. There is a big yellow and black sign with the letters SPIN on it and all along the wall there are framed posters of upcoming events. I walk inside and the doorman greets me with a smile. He lets me in without having to show my ID because I am a familiar face.

“There she is! Jesus what took you so long?!” The one female bartender, Amanda shouts at me. I am usually at Spin an hour earlier. I tell her to calm down in a joking way and mention the better late than never saying.

“Hey bitch!” says Drew AKA Diamond Dior. He is a beginning part time drag queen and the reason I have become a regular on Dollhouse Drag night.

Spin is still pretty empty around 9:30. It mostly consists of other regulars and bar employees. The bar is wooden and shaped like a large rounded triangle. It’s a dark room lit by hanging red lights and eight television screens playing the same music videos on each such as “Love on Top” by Beyonce and “Blow Me One Last Kiss” by Pink as well as a large, silver disco ball hanging in the center of the room. More posters are hung up of attractive bartenders wearing nothing but tighty-whiteys. One who is in the back room bartending and wearing the same clothing (or lack thereof) as he is in the photo. I am informed he is straight, surprisingly, but also that he is a bit of an ass hole, so why bother? I clearly don’t go to gay bars to pick up men anyway, though my mother insists that I should spend more of my time where I have that option. I have however gotten hit on by straight men at gay bars, but they tend to be extremely creepy.

Now at 10 PM as more people are coming in, Drew insists we go to the back room to grab the table we always sit in to watch the drag show. Even though the show doesn’t start till midnight, Ms. Dior is very protective of his table and will go all diva on someone’s ass if anyone tries to take it. Although I feel it’s a little silly and over dramatic, I admire his spunk and stubbornness.

Finally its midnight. The tables are full, the music stops and a voice is heard over the speakers “Ladies and gentlemen put your hands together for the cheese-cake queen, former RuPauls Drag Race contest, your host for the evening, Miss Dida Ritz!” Everyone claps and cheers and yell out “CHEESE-CAKE!” as if chanting the name of a sports team.

Dida Ritz comes out and performs her dance and lip sync to a fast paced song while people are handing her dollar bills. She then says hello to everyone, cracking jokes, asking how we are doing. She is dressed in a tight black and white dress and her hair is straight and blond. She looks stunning.

As the night goes on she introduces the other three drag queens: Debbie Fox, Gia Gunn and Saya Naomi Diaz Deleon Visage. They each perform three songs, never wearing the same outfit or hair twice. They are working the stage unbelievably in six-inch sparkling, spiked, and leather heels. They are incredibly graceful and rhythmic. I am envious of them, but Drew tells me I cannot be a drag queen because I am already a real woman. I sigh.

Halfway through the show, Debbie Fox takes over hosting. She asks for volunteers to participate in the lip syncing contest. I always raise my hand and I always get picked because as she says, they need someone on stage who is actually a biological female. Debbie asks me and the other three contestants some questions.

“What’s your name sweetheart?”

“Claudia” I reply

“Claudia, are you straight or gay?”

“Straight.”

“Hmmm....and how’s that going for you?”

“Um pretty good.”

“Uh huh. And are you single or taken?”

I pause for a second and gulp “Single...”

“Yeah I see thats going real well for you. But thats okay, you were just born that way.” The audience laughs at the burn I have just received. 

I then wait and listen for the DJ to choose a song which he supposedly does at random. I smile as I hear several female voices yelling “GIRLS!” It is Beyonce’s “Run The World (Girls)”.

 I had seen this video several times and learned most of the dance to it (it’s kind of a hobby of mine to memorize dances). I channel Sasha Fierce and start bouncing my shoulders up and down while whipping my hair from side to side. The crowd goes wild. Its a complete shock to them that this white, straight fruit fly knows a Beyonce dance, but they eat it up. People even start handing me one dollar bills as if I am one of the drag queens performing their number. I feel on top of the world. Is it wrong for me to wish to be a drag queen when I am already a real woman? 

It seems Debbie Fox would think so. She talks to the crowd “Guys, those dollars are meant for the drag queens!” There is humor in her voice, but I am still worried of what she must think. Then after the other contestants finish its time for the audience to decide who is the winner. One by one we step forward and allow the crowd to choose by showing their level of applause. The first two contestants before me get a good amount of claps, but when I step forward, the room almost shakes. People are clapping, cheering and whistling as loud as they possibly can. It takes a while for Debbie to calm them down. The next contestant, a 22 year old gay man who initially did  not want to participate in the contest steps forward. He too has a loud roar of applause. Ms. Fox tells the first two contestants to sit down and announces that we have to lipsync for our lives. 

The song “Love Shack” by the B-52s starts playing and he and I try our best to out-diva each other. He tries to dance infront of me, but I make it WERK!

When we finish, the audience decides again. I receive the most cheers and therefore am the winner of Spins lip sync contest. I am ecstatic, but of course Debbie Fox has something to say.

“Okay, its great that you won, really it is. But for a gay bar this is sad!” She and a couple other drag queens proceed to tell me I did a great job, but that the guy I competed against is cuter because he has a penis. I shrug it off and accept my ten dollar bar tab. I cant stop smiling because I am extremely proud of myself.

The rest of the night consists of more drag performances, more drinking and joke making and more singing along to the latest pop singles. The foggy dimly lit room is only brighter once the show has ended and although no one encourages anyone else to leave, the employees start cleaning up and closing the bar and the drag queens go backstage to wash their faces and relieve their feet of their heels.

Exhausted, I say farewell to my fabulous, colorful friends I have made. It’s these types of nights that make the stress of life go away. Nothing else matters when I am at Spin Night Club and it’s not the actual club, but the people there and the performances that make it count.

Oh and here is a picture of Raven touching my boob (with The Princess!). 

~Claudia~