Ducki(eee!)

Unexpecting and unaware, I arrived at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern with 10 pounds crumpled up in my glove. As an associate student, I am new to both the area and the culture. I approached the two men standing in front of the unsuspecting building and asked "Is this Duckie?" The overly assured security personnel gave me a funny look and a swift "yes", pointing me towards a quite lovely looking drag queen. I paid my entry and entered into the dark and stuffy venue. The very first thing I noticed was not the music, the audience, nor the soft-core porn playing on the screen in front of me. My first observation was the mere environment I was in. I thought I had signed up for a London performance class...why was I in a bar? The thought was fleeting and I soon moved on to the fact that I was standing next to my professor amongst a plethora of gay gentleman (as well as women and everything in between), and naked figures being projected onto the stage ahead. I confusedly walked over to my fellow classmates and bopped along to the funky music, awaiting a performance. As the first act began I was fully overheating and starting to get acclimated to the setting. While the sex talk/lecture was amusing I was more enthralled by those around me. The energy was incredible. A fellow audience member leaned over and asked me and a friend if we were there for a bachelorette party; I guess they don't see a lot of seemingly straight women full clad in sweaters and winter wear at this place. Following the second act I was certainly entertained and understood the value of this experience, and why we were at a drag show for class. It was not the act itself that made Duckie worthwhile, but everything that went into its production--the venue, the audience, the music, the alcohol, and most importantly everything (and everyone) in between.