Her Real Name is Karl...

I met my first drag queen tonight. Wait. Maybe I shouldn't start like that. Rewind. I worked a 10 hour day at the Animation Center inside MGM Studios today. I wore heals. It wasn't pretty. By the time I got back to my apartment I was in no mood to do anything but relax...at least for a while. So I made my second to last box of pasta and sat down at my computer and just surfed for an hour or so. It was so nice to just sit there and not do anything. No screaming, vomiting kids running around my legs, no disgruntled parents cussing my attendant out, and best of all no high heels. It was glorious but soon the ADD side of me took over and I was bored. So I picked up my phone and texted my friend Andrea:

"Wat r u doin?"

It is sad the grammar that text messaging has reduced us to these days; Emerson must be rolling in his grave. Quickly after thumbing out the message I received a response.

"Patrick invited us to a pool party. We are going. Come over"

Apparently I was going to a pool party. In hindsight maybe I should have asked who's party it was or even where it was but instead I grabbed my shoes, went outside and got into Patrick's car. Patrick is a funny person. He is very sarcastic, confident and headstrong. He also doesn't ask many questions because he didn't know anything more about the party than we did, aside from the fact that is was happening and we were going. I sat in the front seat (because I couldn't fit in the back of his Mustang) and we took off. We got on the interstate and began to drive. As we weaved in and out of the Saturday night traffic I asked Patrick where we were going. He then explained that he was terrible with directions so he told his friends to meet him somewhere he knew how to get to and then, in turn, they would lead us to the shady pool party. I accepted his answer and leaned back in my chair, at the same time exchanging a nervous glance with Andrea.

We must have been driving for a good 20 min when he said that we were almost there. I looked out my window and began to grow increasingly nervous. The scenery was looking less friendly the farther we drove. There were fewer Arbys and more prostitutes - never a good sign. I sat low in my seat so to avoid stray bullets. Finally he flicked on his blinker and pulled into our meeting place. It was a place called the Parliament House Resort. I knew that by the giant flashing sign that stood out front. It was hard to tell the true name at first glance because the "liam" in Parliament was burned out. Below the sign was a marquee that read "White Party Tonight. Pepper Mashay in Concert". This was the second of many red flags that night.

As we pulled into the parking lot Patrick called his friend Kya to ask her where in the parking lot she would like to meet us. She would be our escort to the pool party in shady town USA. She told him that she would be there in 15 minutes. So we found a parking place and sat in silence listening to the club music being broadcast over the radio. Finally I started asking Patrick all the questions swirling in my head:

"So is this..."
"A gay club? Yes. But there are alot of drag queens and lesbians here too". Flag number three.
"And is Kya.."
"A drag queen? Yes. Her real name is Karl.". Number four.
"And is she..."
"Black? Yes."
"Actually I was going to ask if she was almost here but black works too."

So there we sat in the parking lot of what Patrick referred to as the "P-House" waiting for his drag queen friend and his/her posy to show up so we could follow them deeper into the ghetto to attend a creepy-ass pool party. Awesome. It was weird sitting in the parking lot and watching the people enter. There were young guys in couples holding hands, old creepers slouching past us and, the highlight of our time spent in the lot, the occasional drag queen. I had never seen one in real life. I wondered what it would be like to actually talk to one of them. I didn't have to wonder long. They would walk by and we would guess if they were a real girl or a flesh and blood drag queen. Is this flag four or five? I forget. They were all wearing white of course...they didn't want to offend "Pepper Mashay" by wearing black or God forbid color! At one point a drunk guy started peeing on the car in front of us. Bottom line-This was a classy place and I stopped counting flags.

Finally, 30 min later Kya/Karl showed up and, from her/his car, motioned for us to follow her/him. We were car three in a six car caravan. We drove for another five minutes and finally pulled up to a gigantic house and parked. We got out of the car and followed Patrick to the sidewalk where we finally got to meet Kya, in full drag. She was very nice and comforting. More make-up on her face than the entire cosmo department at the Magic Kingdom has in stock, but she was very polite. She was fabulous but she wasn't fooling anyone. She had the build of a linebacker and could crush my skinny body between her French tips. After staring through introductions she told us to take out our I.D.'s and follow her. I thought it odd that they were checking I.D.s at a house party but then again it wasn't the strangest thing I had come across that night. As we reached for our I.D.'s Andrea dug through her purse and realized she didn't have hers...and with that the party was over for us. Kya went in and tried to pull some strings but when it came down to it-No I.D., no entrance. So after saying good bye to Kya we got back in our car and went home.

At the time I was kind of disappointed. I was really intrigued to what was going on inside the mansion and how Kya found the heels she was wearing in a 16. Later, however, we found out that it was a porn house (hence the 18 and older only thing) host to the popular website "College Boys: Live!" (I don't recommend it) and the party was essentially a film shoot for their latest broadcast "Pool Party Boys Gone Wild". Needless to say...we wouldn't have fit in .

Welcome to Disney High...

After a quiet and frankly boring Friday of sitting in my room and eating the little food left in my cupboards I instant messaged my friend Adam and asked if he wanted to go visit our good friend The Little Mermaid in her grotto at the Magic Kingdom. Being in the entertainment department, like Adam and me, has it’s perks; you can wear what you want to work and you become friends with the princesses. He agreed and I told him that I would meet him at his apartment in 15 minutes. I really didn’t need that much time because, to be honest, I had been ready to get up and do something for about three hours. I know I am a pathetic loser. The funny thing is I was five minutes late to his apartment. Isn’t it funny how we have all the time in the world but when it comes down to it you end up being late anyway?

After I arrived (late) to his apartment we departed to the front of Chatham Square to the bus stop to catch the A Bus. It was scheduled to arrive 8:17 p.m. and we breathed a sigh of relief when the clock hanging above the benches read 8:14 p.m. Having some time to relax we sat down. We were the only two people at the stop aside from two girls that sat in silence on a set of benches that faced each other.

From the moment I saw them I made, what I like to call, ‘Disney Judgments’ on them. One of the girls had blue slacks that were far too short for her gangly legs, scuffed-up black shoes and a blue windbreaker that said “All-Star Resort” on the breast pocket. She obviously wasn’t in entertainment. She must be front desk - A Resort Girl. The other girl, who happened to be sitting next to me, was wearing sneakers, sweats, a t-shirt and had a large backpack on her back. No uniform? a backpack? This usually means she is an entertainer. I was intrigued because I had never seen her around the entertainment buildings so I began to talk to her.

“Are you new around here?” I said. Thinking back on my tone I must have sounded like Regina George from Mean Girls.
“Yeah I just got here last week. I have been working none-stop” she said. This made me unsure of her role here. So I asked the universal entertainment question:

“How tall are you?”
“5’ 6”” she said, sounding somewhat confused.

“Oh” I thought, slightly disappointed in my judgement; She wasn’t in entertainment. 5’6” is considered a dead height here. There is no way.

“So are you in merchandise then?” I said. I sounded like such a bastard I am sure. She went on to explain that she worked in the Emporium on Main Street. After her explanation I turned to Adam and, as most entertainment cast members here at Walt Disney World do, began to loudly complain about our jobs even though we know full well that our role here is so much easier/better than the other jobs offered at the resorts.

It is human nature to complain I have discovered. Everyone complains and a lot of the time, they are complaining about something that they actually like. It reminds me of being back in high school in rehearsals for 7 Brides for 7 Brothers or something. Our director would announce that we would be staying into the late hours of the night rehearsing and perfecting her masterpiece. We would all begin to secretly, and sometimes not so secretly, bitch and moan that we had other things to do, or that we had load of homework or anything else we could think of. We would sit and bounce complaints off of each other until our mouths were dry. The funny thing about this, however, is that none of us were really angry. We all loved being there and secretly rejoiced when rehearsal hours were extended.

This is exactly how the entertainment cast members are here. We love our jobs. We are attention whores and this is our brothel. We are like the self proclaimed popular kids in my high school growing up. We have our own buildings, we wear whatever we want to work, and are break rooms have padded chairs. We are Disney’s football team and cheer squad. It kinda makes me sick when I think about it. Come to think of it, every profession here has a high school clique it can be equated to.

The operations cast members are like the drama kids. They have their own cliques and act like they are entertainers, even calling themselves “merchantainers” but when it comes down to it they can only “merchantain” the people that come into their shops, and trust me, most of the time the guests are not in the mood.

The custodial cast members are like the art freaks. They keep to themselves, mutter weird things when you sit by them on the bus and are always around but no one really knows where their break-rooms are.

We even have all the foreign kids. Except for they are really foreign. Not just Mexico and California far but Germany and France far.

It is kinda sad because we all complained about the drama of our high school years then what do we do? Turn around and step into something even worse. Because at Disney High, we are here for more than six hours a day and if you don’t turn in your assignment, you don’t just get an F, they deport you.

An Empty Tube of Toothpaste...

Goodbyes are so confusing to me. Why is it is so hard to show your true feelings of sadness when someone you love leaves you? In life, especially my life, goodbyes are inevitable; goodbye to your old friends, goodbye to the day, goodbye to the carton of expired milk in the fridge. Eventually we, as human beings have to say goodbye to everything. This is what we have been taught anyway. But I have found that this theory is so much easier said than done. For example: Tomorrow is Friday, April 13th, 2007. This means, aside from the bad luck bestowed upon the superstitious, that many members of Building 25 in my complex are leaving for their reals homes in Utah, or Minnesota, or whatnot. Their contracts here at Disney officially end tomorrow. It is so strange to see them leaving. It feels like our clothes still have the wrinkles from being in our suitcases during the long trip down here four months ago. I have grown closer and farther then closer to these people throughout their stay here and I don’t want to see them go. I really love them. I have the strongest feelings inside of me concerning them. But when I come face to face with them at the time of our final goodbye...I choke. All that comes out is small talk, chopped up and separated by awkward silence. I love these people, I really do. I just can’t get the love to come out of me so I can show it to them. I feel like an old tube of toothpaste and I am unsuccessfully trying to squeeze the last smudges of goo out onto my toothbrush. Of the many leaving one stands out to me the most and it really hurts to see her go. Kate was in my training group when I first arrived. This is one reason I feel so close to her I think. No matter how weird or frustrating they were, you always have a bond with the people in your training group. They serve as a point for comparison. They arrived at the same time and learned at the same rate you did. They are your equals in a way. It feels like they will always relate to what you are saying because you all were “brought up the same way” so to speak. Kate became more than just a scale or security blanket from training though. The first day I walked into our orientation I sat with her. This sounds so cliche it hurts my teeth to say it but I had this overwhelming feeling like we had been friends our entire lives. She is a gorgeous girl which, usually, I would find extremely intimidating. But her the pseudo-familiarity served as a buffer to any awkwardness. We have been friends from the beginning and to see her leaving feels like a piece of my childhood is getting on a plane and flying into oblivion. It will be so weird to not have her around. I kinda wish that I could have the mentality that the Disney Corp. has sometimes. As soon as your contract is over they ship you out. No goodbyes, no waiting period, no time to grieve, just business. As soon as they don’t control your schedule you need to get the hell out of their houses. Sometimes it feels like it would be so much easier if everyone had this mentality. But then again, isn’t that what life is about? Making connection with people? Maybe that is why it is easier for me to let people go; because I feel connected to the ones I love even when we are apart. I have so much love for the people leaving me tomorrow and I want to show it to them so bad. But, like I said, that is so much easier said than done.