Worse yet, why did I spend my thursday night trying to be a part of the orgy a club calls a “show” and charges admission for?


This one’s gonna give you a good laugh (at my expense obviously).

So, last night we were set on going to Niceto Club 69 because multiple guides recommended the Thursday Night Drag Show.  So I’m thinking “oh, it will be a fun experience, blah blah blah” which obviously translated to me wanting to get shit faced before hand to fully enjoy the experience.  (I’d love to tell you this happened, but nope…)

I guess I’ll put this in some logical order for you to follow even though my thoughts are in a complete disarray and I have intermittent cases of the spins.  Yesterday was a gorgeous one, 73 degrees and sunny, so I got a bikini wax…dont worry I do not plan on getting into those details (thank me later, or now, whatever).  All was going well, I picked out my favorite dress to wear (even though my legs resembled those of a wildebeest preparing for the winter). As I piled on the black eyeliner (too classy I know) I asked myself what would happen if somebody thought I was in drag.  I came to the conclusion, nothing.

So, I meet up with a friend at a bar that is rumored to give out weed brownies, and we take a couple shots and have a drink. When there was no brownie platter, we peaced rul (real) quick. Somehow our taxi took us to the wrong Club 69, on the other side of town. Obviously, I blame my friend.  Eventually we got to the right place, and were greeted by a shirtless King Titan from the Little Mermaid.  It was pretty empty when we showed up (only around 1:30) so we continued to drink, and I took the few photos I was able to manage of the night.  As is the case with every night here, creepy men ten years my senior groped and complimented my friends and I, but I found a loophole… I informed these yucky souls that my friend Alexa was actually my girlfriend.  We reinforced this concept by pretending to make out and grab each others hair….things were obviously going well. I should stop here and inform you that I wasn’t drunk.  Before we knew it, the attention of the club had shifted to the stage, where the queens took over. They really put on an awesome show. Imagine a fashion show/dance circle/orgy kind of thing on stage with some girls, some guys, and some drag queens, all dressed like crazy ass things with blue hair.  It was mesmerizing.

On approximately the fifth trip to the bathroom, we met up with a bunch of our friends!  They led us to a spot at the front of the crowd near the stage to watch as the show continued spirally downward, getting more and more like a strip tease.  So, la-la-la-la-la, everyones singing along and fist pumping (I was screaming “America”), and I come up with this idea that I’m going to get on stage.  I start networking a little bit, you know chatting with the photographer, security guards, the dancers, and other creepos who wanted to get in on the action. After an hour or so, I started to feel like people were just trying to appease me like some drunk party girl by telling me “Oh, yea I’ll tell the owner,” or “Hang on five minutes”.  I pulled out the big cards at this point, reminding everyone that they needed a blond in the show, also announcing that I can sing and was a high school gymnast.  It’s a miracle I only ended up having to deal with one eavesdropping weirdo (for the most part, I made sure to ask everybody if they worked there so I didn’t get sex trafficked…although in hindsight, I should’ve ID-ed).  Back on stage, everyone is actually having sex now.  I am starting to feel like I may have overstated my dancing abilities and given myself too much credit for being confident and crazy.  I’ll tell ya, I’m super tolerant, down for whatever, so when I tell you this was some really kinky, gay, orgy shit, it was. I can’t go into details, I’m grimacing and my mom reads this.

Eventually, the buzz wore off for my friends and they dragged me away from my third or fourth chance at stardom ( I lose count sometimes). I’d love to chalk this one up to yet another night of excessive drinking, but it just doesn’t feel quite right.  I think the combination of my overwhelming desire to be the center of attention and the feeling of empowerment from my bikini wax are to blame for this one.

Narrowly dodged participating in an orgy with people who can’t be deciphered as men or women.  Good.  Check that one off the bucket list.