Ghetto fabulous burgers and drag faux pas
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Last night I met my first drag queen. Well, this being Amsterdam, I’ve encountered a few drag queens. But it was the first time we’d – you know – sat down and had a chat. I was in Getto: a grungy-on-the-outside, funky-on-the-inside, cocktail-cum-burger bar that’s slap bang in the middle of sex-shopping central. We’d worked our way through a couple of feisty cocktails when I was introduced to Dottie, the fine lady who would be singing for us later. Little did I know what a social minefield this would turn out to be.
Rule #1 of encounters with drag queens: never, ever blow their cover. ‘Nice to meet you,’ I said breezily; ‘we’re doing a cookery workshop together next month, right?’ ‘No my dear, that’ll be my nephew… he’s terribly interested in cooking.’ ‘Your nephew? Oh right, but I thought…’ I trailed off as our mutual friend and workshop chef metaphorically kicked me under the table.
Thinking I’d impress her/him with my research about the drag schedule, as published on Dottie’s blog, I changed tack: ‘So your next performance is called Amen, at the Church, right? Can we come?’ ‘No my dear, it’s only for men who are HIV positive… and I doubt you fall into that category darling?’
It was time to shut up, listen and figure out how all this worked. Luckily, our burgers arrived not long after, which gave my mouth something to do other than create opportunities to plant my foot in it.
I’d ordered the Jennifer Hopelezz burger (they’re all named after drag queens, obviously), which came with bacon and guacamole. It was in a proper bread roll (not those sweet, spongy burger buns) and came with excellent seasoned fries and a little side of purple coleslaw. And not a moment too soon.
The rest of the night was a roaring success: Dottie was as fabulous as her red dress and platinum-blonde hair promised; I discovered the Genever-based ‘Gettopolitan’ cocktail; and my friends terrorized the small minority of straight guys.
All in all, a very Amsterdam night out.
Vicky





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Considering the location and that it’s a gay bar…I can’t help but noticed how appropriate (or INappropriate) you had coined the term “cocktail-c**-burger bar”.
Freudian?
p/s – Oscar Wilde apparently said that a dirty mind is a joy forever!