An American Girl Takes It on the Road

So, about 6 or 7 weeks ago, I get a Facebook message Julie Slowinski from Chicago, who I didn’t know from Eve, other than the fact that she is a selfie queen with impeccable style, just like moi. Julie was headed to Philadelphia for a conference and was looking for suggestions on places to eat, drink, and be Mary. After a few exchanges it was apparent that Julie was a clever girl who was ready to hit the ground running and was doing her own research. It always pays to plan ahead. “She couldn’t help thinking there was a little more to life somewhere else. After all, it was a great big world, with lots of places to run to.”

It just so happened that Julie’s conference was being held at the Doubletree on South Broad on the outskirts of the Gayborhood. Our story begins on Tuesday night. I touched up my lipstick in the ladies room at the office and put on my running shoes for the hike over to Julie’s hotel. Those who know me, know that while I adore high heels, there’s a limit to how many blocks I can tolerate in sensible pumps let alone stilettos and I wanted to arrive on time at 6 p.m. sharp. Hoofing it through the streets at a brisk pace during rush hour always puts me in the mood for fun and helps me distance myself from the constant onslaught of emails at work.

I made it to the hotel lobby on time, switched into some fashionable shoes and texted Julie, who invited me up to her room on the 10^th floor, which had a lovely view of Center City. Julie was adding the final touches to her outfit, debating which necklace went with her dress. She had packed two suitcases, one particularly large suitcase jammed full of high heels in shoe boxes. My kinda girl.

We strolled over to a swanky Mediterranean tapas bistro called Valanni. I had never heard of it, before Julie picked it out, but I am more than happy to let my friends mastermind the restaurant picks. Valanni features two rooms, the bar is on the right and the dining room has padded booths. The overall décor harkens back to the golden days of disco. We had arrived during low tide, and the dining room was empty. As we started to get acquainted over martinis and kebabs the after work crowd started trickling in.

Julie had mapped out an agenda for the evening, and after a couple of warm up rounds at Valanni we caught an Uber up to Fishtown to a dive bar called El Bar. The El Bar is situated beside an abandoned elevated train track and the clientele is an eclectic mix. We ordered well drinks from the friendly bar maid, who made us feel right at home. The drinks were served in 12 ounce straight-sided beer glasses, the weapon of choice for effective attitude adjustment and clearly the barmaid had not skimped on the key ingredients. The cheerful and chatty bar maid stopped back for more small talk and offered us free shots of a high-octane peach-flavored concoction. Well, if it isn’t my lucky day? I filed this free shot offer away in my memory banks in case I ever need to go on all night bender to ease the pain of unrequited love and get lucky with a stranger. We politely declined the shots.

El Bar has a centrally located bar with tables on one side and a pool table and side table on the other. It was early, the pool table was wide open and Julie challenged me to a game of 8-ball. Julie walloped me, graciously intimating that the fact that she was wearing high heels and I wasn’t had made all the difference.

We ordered another round and I was jonesing for a rematch, so we plugged in some quarters to release another rack, but immediately realized that there was a grease pencil on a mirror list of names on the wall. A tall lanky 20 something guy with a bushy blonde mini afro stepped up and Julie quickly managed to negotiate a game of doubles. The lanky blonde guy explained the house rules and then broke the rack with a loud, authoritative crack and sank another ball to claim solids. After Julie sank a stripe, and missed a shot, the tall lanky dude retrieved his partner, a short strawberry blonde bearded laid-back guy from the other side of the bar. He proceeded to line up a stripe and sink it in the corner pocket. Thank you very much! Um, you just sank the wrong ball. We all had a good laugh about it. I am guessing the laid-back guy was stoned but that is mere hearsay. We held our own on the table and the game came down to the wire, but we lost.

We returned to our perch on the bar and the young woman next to me confides that she suspected that the dynamic duo was in fact a couple of hustlers and that the short bearded guy was simply sandbagging us. Not sure if I buy her theory, but I am pretty sure that sort of thing goes on all the time at this colorful dive bar. “Meet the losers in the best bars, meet the winners in the dives, where the people are the real stars, all the rest of their lives.”

Having soaked up the local color at El Bar, Julie led the way to our next stop, Kung Fu Necktie (KFN), which was only a couple of blocks away. KFN is a long and lean bar about 80 feet long and 25 feet wide with a bar extending halfway up the left side and a stage at the far end backed by red curtains. Julie and I took seats at the bar for a round and surveyed the scene. It was heavy metal karaoke night at KFN, and the overwhelmingly male crowd was giving the singers enthusiastic support. I made my karaoke debut in the late ‘80s in San Francisco at a joint called Rockin Robin’s with a rendition of Steppenwolf’s Born to be Wild. I momentarily toyed with the idea of putting in a request card, but the queue of singers was substantial. Since it was a school night for me, we Ubered back to Center City where I caught the train home and Julie headed to the Gayborhood for more fun and games

Julie went back to Kung Fu Necktie on Wednesday night to check out the local music scene. Early on she reported that the band was passable but told far too many corny jokes. What really set them apart though was that near the end of their set they all took off their clothes and played the final numbers in diapers.

When Thursday rolled around Julie had lined up some first-class entertainment, The Martha Graham Cracker Cabaret Show. Julie had also invited the lovely and talented Stephanie Stanek and me to join her for Martha Graham Cracker’s 14^th anniversary show at the L’Etage Cabaret. The three of us started off the evening with crepes at Creperie Beau Monde which is downstairs from L’Etage. We figured we were strategically having dinner in the same building as the show would guarantee us good seats for the show. But nooooooo! We were having such a good time at the restaurant that we forgot about the time and when we finally realized that zero hour was approaching, I practically had to tackle the waitress to get our check because the restaurant was packed. Meanwhile despite the fact that is was pouring outside, a substantial line had formed outside the Cabaret. By the time we finally joined the line there were a lot of people in front of us. Plus, several little old ladies (I kid you not) were more than happy to cut right in front of us when the doors opened at 8. Basically, we lost the game of musical chairs. That’s what happens to rookies.

I was a bit distraught, but a solution emerged. Veteran show-goers advised us that it was in fact possible to sit on the stage. So we went behind the curtain and discovered that the VIP table to the left of the band on the stage was wide open. Since we were the only transgender women in the audience it seemed fitting. Our vantage point gave us a bird’s eye view of Martha’s cute tush all night long. Martha is played by Dito van Riegersburg, and she’s backed up by at talented four-piece blues/rock band as she sings mashups of rock songs like The Boys of Summer. This is no ordinary drag show.

After the show, we got to spend some quality time with van Riegersburg after he emerged from the dressing room. Stephanie and I melted down with the manager of the Creperie and a local guy at a nearby brew pub. Julie ubered back to the Gayborhood for more fun and games.

There’s plenty of talent in a big city like Philadelphia. Pretty girls, pool hustlers, drink mixers, chef’s, Uber drivers, musicians, and colorful locals like Stephanie and me. All the ingredients for a good time. A little break from the norm. “What good is sitting alone in your room? Come hear the music play. Life is a Cabaret old chum, come to the Cabaret.”

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Tags: crossdressing, featured, nightlife, Out & About, Transgender

Category: Out & About