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~
