In short: Pacifica strip mall bar drag show.
Hammina.
We started with a small birthday party in Montara, a town of like 40 people just above Moss Beach and above Half Moon Bay. We did get to drive through the just-opened Devil's Slide Tunnel, which was enormous, gorgeous, and very cool.
The gathering was lovely, and I was in the mood for a room full of people I didn't know. The "town" is tiny, certainly coastal country. I felt like it was the setting for a 60s Disney movie. Shout out to Alison, who is total PLU. Kevin and I hesitated outside before going in, listening to eh wails coming from inside.
"Is that a sing along?"
"I think it's just a 'sing.' I'm not hearing any 'along.'"
Alison, shouts to Alison, walked up the hill towards us and assured us we were int he right place as she recognized that voice. For some reason, I had to go in, and climb the stairs towards the party, first. Why me? I don't know anyone here? I was just Kevin's plus one. Not that wandering into a party as if I were invited were anything new to me, but still. Alison urged me up, so I said, "Whatever. If anyone asks, I'm your boyfriend."
Sure enough I was eagerly welcomed, with smiled and handshakes that clearly said, "Hey, I don't know you but think I should so I'll just pretend that we've met before." Which was pretty funny. It's completely logical that one would not know everyone at a birthday party, and assume that people arriving were invited and not total strangers. So everyone played as if they, or at least the host, knew me. For some reason, Kevin and Alison had lagged downstairs, so even when I met the hostess, no one had a clue who I was, but was playing along, until the host's smile turned from one of welcome to one of inquisitiveness. The "hi" smile switched to "who?"
"I'm Alison's boyfriend."
That was fun. Alison eventually appeared beside me, questions were raised, and because she is PLU, she totally played along. Note bene: Alison and I had never met before.
Later I told people I was her ex-boyfriend. When quested as to why we split up, I acknowledged that she was entirely justified in dumping me as I was a selfish lover and never reciprocated oral. When this got back to Alison, she agreed. So much fun.
There were maybe ten of us so it was an intimate gathering, and everyone was lively and charming and fun to meet. It was arm-deep foggy on the coast so there was no view even though we were just a block above the ocean. But the spring chill made for a cosy night with dogs and songs by the fire.
Kevin had joked earlier that I seem to know everyone so I might know someone there. It took about 15 minutes to find a one-degree of separation. The Guy With Guitar was Jamie Clark, and once we started talking Bay Area music, we found we had several friends in common.
Facebook posts to various walls were duly uploaded.
And there were certainly some personalities at play here. I really want a caption contest for this one.
But the true adventure came when we had to, frighteningly, take the coastal highway in impenetrable fog back up to Pacifica to "take in a show." One of Kevin's friends, or friend of a friend, recently bought into a bar in Pacifica: The Longboard Margarita Bar. They are trying to find their niche and have attempted several different marketing ideas to different crowds. Like the early bird cocktail hour for seniors in the early afternoon.
And Female Impersonator Night once a month. Or something. They never formally called it a Drag Night and I have no idea why. (Update: It's called the "Lipstick Review.") Anyway, word was, they had started a drag night once a month and they pulled in some queens from Vegas. They had only had one night so far, and they asked Kevin, drag aficionado that he is, to go check it out. Naturally, he thought of me. Squeeee! (That is the giddy sound.) It was either going to be really good, or really bad. Which meant for us, either way we were going to love it. The only truly bad show is a boring one. If it's epic or epically tragic, awesome.
We drove, carefully, through the pea soup fog up to Pacifica, and found the address. We knew we were into a adventure when we found the bar in a strip mall. Keep in mind, to us, this was a good sign. So to speak. Kevin noticed mall sign featured the Lone Cypress of Monterey. We were two hours from Monterey. And holy cows we weren't in a city anymore: acres and acres of free parking. And hovering around the doorway were young people pierced, inked, poorly dressed, smoking, socially awkward, and "rad." Again, squeee.
The space is fine any featured terrible art typical to a café or surf bar. The staff was quite kind and attentive if inexperienced. What the bartenders may have lacked in knowledge and skill they made up in cuteness, cleavage, and sweetness. The dollar surcharge per drink on an event night was in lieu of a cover charge and perfectly acceptable.
The space was ample and comfortably populated—crowded enough to be fun and happening, not too crowded to sit, mingle, or enjoy. They had pulled out rows of sofas to make it more of a cabaret show. Kevin and I, when asked, offered some constructive criticism, such as spending $40 on yards of black fabric and some pipe, make a backdrop, and an instant stage. It was a slightly awkward setup, but workable.
And work it they did. The MC was really good. The crowd was totally foreign to drag shows, and she provided education on drag, crowd etiquette, tipping, etc. She worked the noobies with slightly raunchy humor and just nailed what the crowd needed and wanted. A far cry of the host acts I am accustomed to, but spot on for this audience. I was impressed. The drag too was good, quickly running the range from power ballad through quick change acts to tragic, on-the-floor Trannyshack mess. I ran through my singles.
The crowd was surprisingly good too. It was early 20-somethings, birthday parties, and girls dragging (heh) their boyfriends out. The queens worked the dudes and everyone was really into it and had a good time. Although this was definitely a foreign scene to them. I had a crick in my neck and couldn't turn my head without turning my shoulders and the woman ordered at the bar thought I was checking her out, or she was checking me out. She started flirting, and felt the need to clarify, "I'm a real woman." Yeah. I can tell. If you were a drag queen, your boobs would be bigger, your makeup would be bigger, and your hair would be bigger. I just replied with a smile. "I can tell. Your eyebrows are drawn where nature intended."
Her black and sparkly halter, and feathered blond hair and fair features, I did "compliment" her that she was working the look of Olivia Newton John in the final scene of Xanadu.
For the rest of the evening, Kevin and I referred to her as ONJ. Her male companion was the only guy in the bar we considered doable.
Except for a scruff little hottie in the corner talking to one of the performers. Kevin pointed him out. I chuckled and crossed the room and directly chatted him up. Kevin sat wordlessly impressed at the bar. Until it was clear his first comment of the evening was truer than he thought. I introduced him to my friend Jason, the current Mr. Gay Rodeo.
I guess I do know everyone. Well, not everyone obviously. But I get by. Enough to walk into a surfer bar on a Thursday night in Pacifica and run into someone I know, who lives in Marin.
Only at the end of the night did I remember that we were driving home. It was just a short but escapist drive, and we were clearly not at home anymore, and enough influences came together that I happily had fallen into vacation mode. I had been removed from my daily life and left my cares behind.
As is usual with the odd adventure with the Kevin, super happy fun time!
No comments:
Post a Comment