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Dick Dale Drag
Feb. 9th, 2015 09:00 pmI'm a bit surprised that I have yet to write up this experience from college on LJ, so here we go. I don't know how many folks who know me have heard this one.
I think it was my second year at Bama. Dick Dale was scheduled to play at The Chukker (R.I.P.). Alas, I was still under 21 and Dick would be playing on a weekend - when a doorman would certainly be there to collect cover as well as check IDs. My usual weeknight trips with no doorman would do me no good on this night. That was until I started thinking through my observations.
The Chukker was close to Theatre Tuscaloosa (where I would spend many a late night working on a set) and another bar I could get into. One thing I had noticed was that the doorman at The Chukker let the drag queens and cross dressers that would wander over from Michael's come in without asking for IDs. A plan was afoot!
Thankfully, I had some good friends who had wardrobe that would work for me. I know that Sandee Curry has a pic somewhere of me in a bra and skirt in the midst of this gender conversion. I got all dolled up. All I was missing was a wig, but we did the best we could with my hair.
We get to the door, a few folks in front of me get carded, I get up to the doorman, and he merely asks me to pay the cover. It worked! I got in! I did get to see The King of Surf Guitar, Dick Dale, play live. Yes, it is true that the man melts a guitar pick during the course of each song. One of the more amazing guitar performances I've seen.
BUT WAIT...
So, while all that is great and all, the greatest moment actually happened in the middle of the concert. There I was jamming out to Dick Dale, when I feel a hand go around my torso. I feel a body getting really close behind me. Then I feel breath on my neck just before I hear a man's voice nearly yell something along the lines of,"You're really beautiful."
I do my damnedest not to flinch or burst into laughter. I slowly turned to him and said something like, "Thanks, I'm not told I'm beautiful often" in my most baritone tones. His eyes bulged, his face went slack, and this poor guy who probably wandered away from The Strip for the first time (frat t-shirt tucked into his khaki Dockers) slowly backed away from me while taking a big gulp from his bottle of beer.
I think it was my second year at Bama. Dick Dale was scheduled to play at The Chukker (R.I.P.). Alas, I was still under 21 and Dick would be playing on a weekend - when a doorman would certainly be there to collect cover as well as check IDs. My usual weeknight trips with no doorman would do me no good on this night. That was until I started thinking through my observations.
The Chukker was close to Theatre Tuscaloosa (where I would spend many a late night working on a set) and another bar I could get into. One thing I had noticed was that the doorman at The Chukker let the drag queens and cross dressers that would wander over from Michael's come in without asking for IDs. A plan was afoot!
Thankfully, I had some good friends who had wardrobe that would work for me. I know that Sandee Curry has a pic somewhere of me in a bra and skirt in the midst of this gender conversion. I got all dolled up. All I was missing was a wig, but we did the best we could with my hair.
We get to the door, a few folks in front of me get carded, I get up to the doorman, and he merely asks me to pay the cover. It worked! I got in! I did get to see The King of Surf Guitar, Dick Dale, play live. Yes, it is true that the man melts a guitar pick during the course of each song. One of the more amazing guitar performances I've seen.
BUT WAIT...
So, while all that is great and all, the greatest moment actually happened in the middle of the concert. There I was jamming out to Dick Dale, when I feel a hand go around my torso. I feel a body getting really close behind me. Then I feel breath on my neck just before I hear a man's voice nearly yell something along the lines of,"You're really beautiful."
I do my damnedest not to flinch or burst into laughter. I slowly turned to him and said something like, "Thanks, I'm not told I'm beautiful often" in my most baritone tones. His eyes bulged, his face went slack, and this poor guy who probably wandered away from The Strip for the first time (frat t-shirt tucked into his khaki Dockers) slowly backed away from me while taking a big gulp from his bottle of beer.
