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One more for the Road
There was something in the air at the start of the weekend. It was Thursday, and things just didnít seem right. The weather was turning around, but something felt looming. I needed to hit the road, and I wasnít the only one. I was just in Guerneville, but the city fog and gloom sent me hightailing it back for an event amidst the pines and blooming dahliaís that I had been looking forward to for weeks. I packed a bag and plopped down on the couch to watch the Olympic Opening Ceremonies, and avoided the hustle and bustle of Friday in the city to instead spend my time with the rest of the world.
Saturday morning I woke and was immediately off to the river. It was the first ever drag queen equivalent to Lazy Bear at the famed Triple R, and I was there to watch the magic as it happened. A bevy of local parties moved from dank clubs and onto the pool deck. TransAm, Beast, and Tiara Sensation all rounded out was bound to be an incredible and fun filled weekend. I was itching with anticipation as we rode the 116 to get some rest and relaxation, as well as mix and mingle with friends.
It was all I expected upon arrival; a bevy of boys in one piece bathing suits, false eyelashes afloat in the pool. It was heaven at 85 degrees, and better than I had expected. So much the spectacle in that sleepy mountain town that even the Mary Kay lady came to the pool, hoping to pick up a few new clients and a Margarita or two. She didnít know what she was in for, however, as she was overwhelmed at her carnation pink table, handing out mascara samples slack-jawed. What was really needed was a wax kit for some of those questionable bikini lines.
I stayed for the show Saturday night, and the somewhat tame party that followed it. Where drag shows in the city start at midnight, at the river they have an equivalent to midnight being 9pm. No one wants to stay up all night in a city that always sleeps, it seems. The show was a smash hit. Lady Bear handed out popsicles, and all my favorites
turned out great numbers. It was apparently quite a different scene from the drag in the city, so I found out when I returned to town the next day.
On Saturday Night at Aunt Charlieís, it was a full house. Ambrosia Salad was in the back, getting ready for her return. It had been a while since she graced the Hot Box, and she was excited to make a killing. However, about five minutes before she hit the floor, the bar cleared out. There seemed to be a literal stampede as the audience rolled on to their next locale, leaving Ambrosia four people watching her performance. She was resilient none the less, and readied for her closing number.
It was reported that Ambrosia had a new number, which required 18 layers of clothes all to be strategically removed throughout the show. However, while she was putting her wigs on, Gina was calling the show off. Ambrosia was left with nothing to do but sulk in her layers, looking like a scene out of a Holocaust movie. It was sad, but will surely be redeemed by her performances next weekend. I got a sneak peek, and it looks inspired.
The week wasted away to the event of the Year, the final Tuesday of Trannyshack. The line began at noon, and people where turned away by 9:30. The show didnít even begin until eleven, and went on for hours as the best of the best from the past twelve years made appearance after appearance. It was a sight to be seenÖ..some much drag in one room. So many memories. Even Heklina and the normally steely Peaches Christ shed tears, after she drank the punch that is! It was truly the end of an era.
So while the Queens of T-shack where staging their final farewell, who was signing up acts to follow at the new Tuesday drag show at the Stud? Who was the coke mule to the Russian river that couldnít move his wares? And what ever did happen to all those false eyelashes after their pool dip? Who was canoodling in room 18 at the Triple R, trying to be coy about the whole thing? And who fucked up their final Trannyshack number so much that they just sang ad lib about the drugs that s/he was on. Well, I could tell you, but I would have to break a pinkyswear!