When Drag Queens Say Goodbye

Ever have those weekends when you can’t wait for Monday so you can just relax at work? That describes most of my weekends in the spring, and I think I’m still recovering from one a few weeks ago.

I attended an early voting party on Friday followed by the Old Town Art Walk. Saturday entailed quality time with the lawn mower, weed whacker, broom and ShopVac in the morning, and a six year old’s skating party at Deleta in the afternoon. I have hit the age at which skating can now be considered a challenging cardio workout.

The whirlwind weekend continued Saturday night with another birthday party for a 50 year old yoga/running/all-around fitness nut. If she’d have had a skating party, I would have been hospitalized.  While enjoying the party cupcakes and an obligatory carrot stick, my date received a text inviting us to a drag show at Club Charley’s. Decisions, decisions. 

For those unfamiliar, Club Charley’s is Pocatello’s lone gay bar. The first weekend of the month features a show by their cadre of drag queens who call themselves “Charley’s Angels.” They lip sync and dance in dreadfully glamorous attire and the queen in charge, Spyke Naugahyde, delivers a wild stand-up routine.  All 6 feet and 5 inches of Spyke is a sequined sight to behold, and she keeps the audience engaged and laughing all night long.  (“She” is the correct pronoun when referring to a drag queen.)  

You won’t see anything more risque at a Charley’s drag show than you might see at a PG-13 movie, but the language would earn an R-rating. I only make it to about two drag shows a year at Charley’s, but for the last nine years, I’ve seen their act at the Bannock County Relay for Life. The queens have been a cornerstone for entertainment at the American Cancer Society Event, and they’ll be performing again this year at midnight. They do a great job revamping their act into an energizing show for the multi-age audience.

So, back to my weekend. We were already out and about. The sitter was secured for a few hours, and I found some ibuprofen to sustain me.  We arrived at Club Charley’s fifteen minutes before the nine o’clock show time. We spotted our friends at their reserved table and my stomach sank. The only chairs left were right in front of the stage.  Audience participation is part of the fun of a drag show, but I prefer to be a spectator, not a participant. I feared those seats and my Hawaiian shirt weren’t going to bode well for mere spectatorship.  I grabbed a couple of ice waters and settled in for the show.

Spyke opened with a lively welcome and explanation of drag show etiquette. She let the crowd know tips are appreciated because “it’s expensive to look that cheap.” Her opening outfit must have been really expensive. Spyke’s mom was in the audience and after a little back and forth, I could see where that sarcasm and wit originated.  Mama Naugahyde was a riot.

About midway through the show, my fears surrounding the location of my seat and loud Hawaiian shirt came true. Two queens grabbed my hand, pulled me to a chair in the middle of the stage, and danced around the blushing centerpiece, yours truly. Camera phones popped up in the crowd like whack-a-moles, and I wondered if this was going to become a teaching moment for teens about the repercussions of social media.  I closed my eyes and took my mind to a happier place, and was temporarily transported to a dentist’s chair. In the end, I survived, and I’m not aware of anything on YouTube. Yet.

The night’s show was also a farewell for one of the regular queens who is moving to Boise with her partner.  The queen’s stage name is “Ashley Liqueur,” and she is one talented performer. I graduated from engineering school with Ashley’s partner, and he’s always got a hug and a smile for everyone. That night, the poor guy clung to every parting hug.

As the show wound down with touching tributes, performers and audience members alike started to tear up. With the heartfelt acts and sincere words, I felt like I was intruding at a family gathering, but that didn’t last long.  I was welcome at the holiday table. I’ve never seen such crying at a drag show, and even I shed a couple tears. Especially when I noticed through the hugs and choked-up farewells, not one of the crying queens’ makeup ran.  Not one. Their makeup is that good.

Many of the queens and patrons of Club Charley’s are family to each other, and there’s no denying the sadness when your family leaves or when drag queens say “goodbye.”