Jonesing for Pork Dumplings and Drag...

Night before last, I went out for an old friend's birthday, and we recounted the story of how we met, a little more that ten years ago, over drinks and more drinks. This is how it all began.

Ten years ago (and change), I woke up one beautiful, sunny, LA day with a terrible craving.I called my very good friend, Stuart Richardson, to tell him all about it.

"Stooey..." I said to him on the phone, "I'm jonesing."
"Hmmm. What do you mean, darling?" Stuart replied matter-of-factly in his slight English accent.
"Well...it's very specific. I have the most terrible craving for pork dumplings and drag queens."
Stuart laughed. "My goodness! At the same time?"
"Well, that would be ideal. But I imagine impossible in LA. There's a drag Queen contest in Silverlake today. Will you go with me and then maybe we can look for pork dumplings?"
"Well..." I could hear Stoo thinking about his day on the other side of the line, "...Sure! Why not? I wanted to pop into some of those record stores on Sunset anyway - I'm looking for a very rare Elaine Stritch album."
"Yay!" I practically jumped up and clapped my hands with joy. This was no small craving. I felt like I had finally gotten over my terror of drag Queens after Stuart took my mother and I to a big, fancy drag place in NYC years before, and some GIANT, tall trannies were mean to me in the bathroom. (note to self - must write about that later - think the club was called,'Poop'. No joke.)

So, Stuart and I went off to find this Drag contest that was on the front page of the LA Weekly (doubtless what had pushed my imagination in that direction). When we got there, we were immediately and sorely disappointed. The contest/festival had been set up in a dry,shadeless parking lot surrounded by a chain-link fence. The stage was NOT fabulous, and the whole event was visible because of the fact that it was in a flat, square and not very big parking lot. We could see a few lack-luster trannies fanning themselves in the heat over by the 'stage', and the music was terrible - creaking out over a crackling sound system. Even the Tranny who was standing at the make shift entrance demanding ten dollars of us looked miserable. Her makeup was melting off of her face in the hot sun, her wig had come askew (her head must have been burning up under that thing!), and when we decided to decline on the entrance fee and the contest, she just shook her head in an understanding manner.
"I don't blame you, girl." she said to me, waving her hand limply in the direction of the 'festivities', "This shit is miserable!"
I turned to Stuart - super disappointed. "Oh, Stoo! I was so excited about this. It sounded like so much fun!"
"Oh well. Cest la vie.." Stuart shrugged.
Then the poor, sweaty Tranny at the entrance piped in , "Girl - you all should go to Rudolpho's tonight! That's where it's at! All these bitches'll be there, anyway." she said, waving again at the disaster behind her. "Girl, it's only $5 cover if you dress up or come in drag. Your man want to come in drag?" she pointedly looked at Stuart.
Stuart giggled, shaking his head, "Not tonight, darling." he said.We were both amused by this muscular, black Tranny in a bright orange wig with makeup leaking down her face from all the sweat.
"That don't matter! It's 'Moulin Rouge' night - just wear something French. It's gonna be fun!"

Stuart and I laughed and thanked her, then continued on our crusade for part 2 - pork dumplings.

The pork dumplings turned out to be equally as disappointing, but at least the restaurant was air-conditioned, and Stuart and I made plans to go to Rudolpho's later that evening. Then we went and scoured Sunset Blvd. for his Elaine Stritch album - to no avail. STRIKE THREE!

We parted ways for the rest of the afternoon, so that we could each get in a disco nap and figure out something 'French' to wear to Rudolpho's.

"Good grief." I thought , as I plopped down on my gypsy bed, in my shady bedroom. "I sure hope Rudolpho's is where it's at."