That time my kickball team did a drag show

As it was, I had to keep reminding myself that a bunt in kickball is not a delicious cake. Now, my team only had two days to assemble a three-minute drag show for charity. We’d be going up against eleven other teams competing for tips benefiting Time Out Youth, a local agency for LGBT youth. Our rival team, Pitch, Please, was planning a grand number. This was unsurprising since they played our last game while donning a variety of wigs. One of their team members, Josh, had boasted, “Honey, we have choreography. We have characters. We have everything.”

My team, Chicks are for Kicks, had nothing. Not even a song. Jet – the one so cool she wears her sunglasses at night – showed us YouTube clip after YouTube clip of boy band music videos. ‘N Sync to Backstreet Boys to Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. Bye, Bye, Bye. I Want it That Way. Good Vibrations. While people had strong opinions about each song, no one made a decision.

As with most things, democracy happened after our Domino’s pizza arrived. Four songs were written on a sheet of lined paper and passed around. The vote was unanimous: Smack That (Dirty Version) by rapper Akon, featuring Eminem. I put down my extra cheese pizza slice and said, “This is our decision, correct?” Jet nodded solemnly, as if the only next step for us, the papal conclave, was to burn our ballots and pipe white smoke through the chapel chimney, finally alerting St. Peter’s Square of our song choice.

“Let’s wear tennis outfits and smack each other with rackets,” I said, an idea less on the nose than, say, gyrating in denim cut-offs. We choreographed certain parts, accepted we could not choreograph others. Jen, our cheerleader and the brainchild of the song, became our director. She sat in a chair and gave us sage, impassioned notes. “Don’t think, feel the spanking,” she said.

On the day of the show, we got ready in the King’s Suite of the Crown Plaza Hotel near Tyvola Road. My teammate, Vivian, much like Jo from Little Women selling her locks to provide for her family, snipped off the ends of her hair to use for the drag kings’ beards.

Next, Tina (drinking soda in this picture) applied a glue on the kings’ faces and stuck on the hairs. Some said it looked like pubes. Everyone giggled.

Jet (middle) rearranged the scraggly beard on Mandy’s face. That’s Vivian on the left getting into character as Eminem.

Tash, the woman turned leading man at the beginning of our performance, got some beard help from Jen via a black liquid marker. Swoon.

This happened while I worked on my Billie Jean King wig and red lipstick.

We got to Cathode — the LGBT bar in SouthEnd hosting the event — and did final touches backstage. Mandy stood next to Malachi, the co-emcee of the evening and a man known for his Wrecking Ball parody, Power Top. He had a McDonald’s eight (or was it ten?) pack of chicken nuggets and a Miller Lite as he beat his face.

I took the moment to reapply my red lipstick.

Tanya helped Mandy with last minute beard placement.

We were number two in the lineup. We thought we’d have more stage room, but the crowd hemmed us in, so we used the small ledge as a stage. The crowd rained money on us and Malachi tip-toed in his black and white bejeweled pumps, picking up our hard-earned George Washingtons.

After everyone performed, co-emcee Tommy Feldman – dressed as Judge Judy – started to announce the third place winner. He said, “Ch—“ and stopped. My heart raced, until he finished saying, “Chicks are for Kicks!” We were third out of 12 groups. Impressive for a group that only 48 hours ago were arguing over which Backstreet Boys song they liked better.

Pitch, Please finished second with a dynamite mash-up of Spice Girls tunes.

Photo Credit: Worthington C. Scott

Kick Teasers took first place, and all of the teams raised $4,500 for Time Out Youth. 

Now smack that.