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 .