I venture through Pike's Market - alone this time. I wander down every nook and cranny, every stairwell and every alley. I return to the Honey Stix table to buy some for home. The giant variety pack for $4 is perfect. I buy two packs, then return five minutes later to buy four individual stix for myself. My dentist is so going to hate me when he sees the large amount of enamel that's been worn off of my teeth from biting open those stix. They're like Pixie Stix, but hard plastic. Not good for the teeth.
As I pass the fish counters, I actually see the guys toss fish through the air, back and forth. I know that I promised my niece that I would catch one for her, but the smell is so obnoxious and rancid to my nose that I cannot fathom the idea. I take the stairs to the basement to see what's down there. There are lots of shops to explore - most of them are not food-related. The comic book shop is like a mecca for a nerd/geek like me.
They sell comic books, posters, keychains, calendars, graphic novels, books, collectibles - you name it. They even sell movie and television scripts, including a Star Wars script for something called The Fall of the Republic. I have no idea what that is, but I'm thinking it's the Star Wars movie that those kids at the Battlestar Gallactica exhibit thought no one had seen yet. I find myself overwhelmed by the extravagant wall of bobble heads for eveything from The Wizard of Oz to Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
After nearly an hour, I decide to leave the store. There's so much more to explore, and the two lesbian nerds are starting to get on my last nerve. I mean, I know I'm a geek, but these two b*tches are some kind of crazy. They're complaining to the store owner that there's not enough Star Trek merchandise in the store and talking about some lesbian-themed comic book series that is sorely lacking from his myriad of shelves.
I leave the store and wander down a hallway that leads to a rather sparsely-populated area with an unstable-looking metal staircase. The only seemingly-permanent resident is a guy playing a violin in the weirdest way possible. I walk past him, and for some odd reason, I think about Brian. At that exact moment, the guy breaks into a melody that I used as background music for Brian's funeral photo show. It is so eerie. I feel that queesy feeling in my stomach, drop a couple bucks in his open violin case, and leave the area.
Down the opposite hallway, I find a store that sells Victorian era erotic art reproductions. It's right next to a vaudeville-type "Biggest Shoes in the World" viewing wall. I just don't know how this shop can stay in business, but it's full of people. There are a bunch of used book vendors and even a candy store run by a 60 year old woman who crawls on the floor with the kids who enter. I am even tempted to have my palm/tarot reading done, but there's a waiting list, and I don't want it that badly.
After my eerie run-in with the violinist, I decide to head to St. James Cathedral. It's quite a trek, but it's my patron saint and the major chuch of the Seattle diocese. I have to check it out. Something keeps telling me to do it. After the most exhausting uphill walk, I make it to the church, full of sweat and with leg cramps like nobody's business. I take a moment to say a few prayers for both my brother and Doug Anderson, who had lost his battle with cancer earlier that morning. I light two candles in the coolest little alcove of the church. I kneel down to pray, when suddenly, a bell rings. It echoes through the cathedral, and a priest and an assortment of altar people appear from the back of the church.
I am suddenly trapped in the church for an unscheduled Friday 5:30 P.M. mass. I am amidst a crowd of homeless men and the most penitent-looking mother f*ers in all of Seattle. I am convinced that if whips were avialable, they would be flagellating themselves right there in the congregation. Seeing as though I will be out of Seattle on a wild adventure outside of the city tomorrow, I decide to attend mass, the quickest mass I've ever attended - 25 minutes, maybe less than that. It's amazingly brief and over before I know it.
After mass, I walk back to the hotel to prep myself for my evening with Emily. Oh, the fun she has planned - my first official Cabaret show EVER. We have dinner at Julia's on Broadway and purchase tickets to the show. Eating there before the show entitles you to special VIP-style seating, but we quickly discover how un-VIP-like we are when fifty or more other people have the special seating privileges.It's kind of a farce, but whatever.
OK, so I've seen drag shows before - mostly shows in South Bend, and most shows with very little overall flair. They're fun and entertaining, but nothing comes close to the Cabaret show at Julia's. Le Faux, the name of the show, is fully choreographed and rehearsed ad nauseum. There's acrobatics, pyrotechnics, and a whole lot more. It's referred to as the #1 Celebrity Impersonator Show in the Northwest. Not much of a title, but Julia's does an amazing job of setting a scene and taking you into a different place. The theatre is right inside the bar/restaurant. The stage is not super large, which gives it an intimacy and a Parisien burlesque atmosphere.
We are entertained for a full two hours by female impersonators, singing (or rather lip-syncing) to such famous gay icons like Cher, Lady Gaga, Liza Minnelli, Pink, Britney Spears, etc. The host of the show is a man whose show personna is Mama Tits. Yes, you read that right. Mama Tits is a 6'5" hulk of a man with the biggest sailor mouth I've ever heard.
Emily has us sit near the aisle with me sitting right on the aisle. It's a complete ploy. Several times through the night, I am assaulted by performers. Lady Gaga shoots me with her bubble gum, then whacks me in the face with her dress of plastic bubbles. Liza Minnelli comes out into the audience during her performance of Cabaret, stands next to me, leaps into the air, and lands smack in my lap. She lands only inches away from the spot on my lap that would have had me curled up in the fetal position on the floor crying like a baby. I take a moment to thank the Lord for small favors.
The Lady Gaga impersonator ends the show with a pretty amazing version of Bad Romance. A standing ovation from the crowd brings the show to a close on a high note. Actually, though, the two 60-something ladies and the 60-something man sticking dollar bills down Gaga's onesie is the highlight of the show for me. It always amazes me to see the variety of people at drag shows. The stragest attendee at the show, by far, is pale brown poodle, wearing a pink tutu and barrettes. Her owner even pays to have the poodle's picture taken with the cast after the show. So strange.
In Seattle, last call at bars is 1:30A.M. Bars close at 2 A.M. Emily and I stick around after the show and have a few more drinks and talk with the performers. We have several conversations and meet a lot of the employees. One of the most interesting employees is James, the "Is He or Isn't He" waiter. He talks to Emily and I off and on over the course of the last two hours, as if he's our new best friend. Emily and I feel like Will and Grace in that one episode where the new neighbor moves in. Neither of us can tell which one of us he's hitting on more. We end up wondering which of us should be more flattered.
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