2008 Woodie Awards
Dkline from Insulting the Drag Queens
Venue Review
Natalie Minor
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"Welcome to Grand Central on Tuesday nights. I'm your host tonight, Miss Visa Dkline. We're having karaoke tonight, if you're interested in singing."
The mannish woman, a drag queen, seen half an hour before chalking her cue and shooting pool at one of the two tables behind her, is now at the microphone at the top of the carpeted stairs, her low voice breaking over the din. A black-billed hat shadows her black-lined eyes, deathred lips and flawless cheekbones, pale against the black lace of her blouse.
"Woo!" David hoots from behind the spacious bar. The counter-toceiling mirrors, distorted by topshelf booze, reflect him rubbing his nipples over his black polo shirt.
"Once again, please remember to tip your bartenders, John and David," Queen Visa smiles at David. "Remember to…Stop grabbing my ass!" she screams into the mic, as one of the pool players behind her cops a feel.
A guy wearing a buttoned-down brown-and-yellow-striped shirt groans in disapproval. Standing in the open space between the bar and the highboys next to the windows, he's determined to let all know he's straight—not realizing that, tonight, Grand Central is not the man-fest it is on the weekends.
Though nothing can compare to the rowdiness of the Wet Underwear Contest on Sundays or the sweaty hype of Friday- and Saturday-night clubbing, this apparent newcomer doesn't know it's "safe" on Tuesdays. Anyone is welcome to sing; many different groups of people—gay and straight—come in the door as Miss Dkline begins the entertainment.
A girl sitting in front of the brassy beer tap flips her Vidal-Sassoon hairstyle and continues turning the pages of the karaoke book, her fingers ensconced in large-stoned rings. Bartender John speaks sign language to a man at the service station of the bar.
"OK, anyways, we're going to start off with Jay. Jay?"
The psychedelic screen savers on the TVs give way to the words: "You got the right stuff," as Jay sings into the mic, totally comfortable in his carpenter jeans and geeky glasses—clearly here to participate in karaoke, not to pick up on men.
The changing light reveals another man with glasses sitting at a table farthest away from the bar, alone. He's a generation older than most at Grand Central, but not uncomfortable here; this is his bar. He watches the window facing Eager Street. The intersection of Eager and Charles streets is busy with people on the way to their favorite local hangout in the Cultural District.
A male Asian couple—each in polos, one red, one black—return to their seats at the end of the bar, having ventured a third time through the windowed hall toward Sappho's Ladies Lounge, Central's new lesbian addition upstairs. Bartender John is startled when Miss Dkline's voice pierces through the last notes of Jay's song.
"Did you call me fucking ugly!?" She glares at the buttoned- down striped-shirt fellow who apparently has escalated from groaning to outright insult.
"That is not acceptable. Um, excuse me, could you kick him out?" she gestures generally toward the door. "He's being very ugly, and I don't appreciate this. Honey, we're all about having fun here, but if you're going to make fun of the drag queens and stuff here, you can just walk your ass right out that door."
The offender mumbles, his response lost to the Tiffany chandeliers hanging from the exposed rafters of the high ceiling.
"OK, because I'm trying the best I can to help you have fun, but if you want to ream me up here, that is not acceptable, Mr. Bumblebee. Joe, you're next to sing," Dkline says, after recovering from the outburst.
As Joe begins singing, all attention is focused on Queen Visa as she says into her mic, "I really didn't mean to get nasty, but sometimes I get really bitchy. But unfortunately, I know you're one of my husband's friends; hopefully you'll come next Tuesday night."
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Grand Central
1001/1003 N. Charles St.
phone–410.752.7133
e-mail–clubcentral@aol.com
hours–4 p.m. to 2 a.m. daily
Karaoke with Visa Dkline
Monday and Tuesday
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