death by glitter

Upon walking into the hotel the other night in a town right outside of minneapolis, we were accosted by a cop in full gear, yelling at us to stay where we were and to keep our hands where he could see them. And you know it is sad when this is the pinnacle of your tour so far: a bored and power-hungry cop at an extended stay screaming at four young girls about to pull a gun, and you get excited because it's the most action you have gotten in the last three weeks. this is my life on tour.

the company i'm working for has a tremendous amount of money, which we only see a little of each week. so in effect, we end up staying in extended stay hotels on the outskirts of town. the amenities include a half kitchenette and running water, alongside coin operated washer/dryers (ratio of 3:6). before this venue, the dancers didn't have a car, and so were forced to bum rides off the other girls who could drive the company car. but our agent broke down and rented us one so we would quit bitching, which we did. and even though it wasn't a very nice car, we were polite and held our tongues, because we didn't want to appear greedy even though we are.

the venue that we worked was a club that puts on m musical acts, so it had a nice stage with no low flying light rafters on top of it, and was in the downtown area of minneapois. both of these facts were great, considering at alot of the venues the boxes are either put in corners with no music or people to be heard or seen, or on a stage that, combined with the three foot tall boxes, smash our heads into the show lights. the venue two days before this one may have some serious damages to it's lights and wiring from my hands, which are now bruised and sore and burned from hitting them and pulling down connector cables.

now there are two different dj's on the tour, both very famous and with thick resumes. i will call the first one dj badass, who is very pleasant to be around, and very nice, very funny, and all around congenial to the girls on the tour. the sencond dj, hereafter dj too cool for school, doesn't talk to us and above that won't let the dancers be within fifty feet of him performing. this means that our boxes get shoved to the back of the club in the opposite direction, and we therefore dance to music we dont like with no body watching. sounds enticing, hm? you know you want my job...

so we got in our own car after the 'show' was over and went home to the hotel, only to be greeted with flashing blue lights in the parking lot. which happened to be there because of a brawl on the third floor, coincidentally enough on rachel's floor. evidently, there was a situation involving a party there where a young blonde boy got jumped and beaten. his face was red and puffy, but i couldn't tell if it was from the beatdown or the fact that (aw, so sad) he was crying. not only was he crying, but his voice was incredibly high and distraught, like a kitten whining. poor thing. the cop was even half hugging him. it's a shitty day when you not only cry in front of four girls, but also when you look to a police officer you dont know for emotional support and physical comfort.

sad.

the situation was funny because of two reasons. first, we were coming home from work, ragged and sweaty, with our dance bags slung over our shoulders, completely sober and dressed like we just got back from the gym. and even though people offer us shots all the time when we work, we are under strict policy not to accept them, otherwise we will be terminated from our contracts. it should really be the other way around, because it may actually look as if we were having a good time if we were inebriated. really. second, all of us were doused in glitter, which is probably the last thing i would look for in a violent personality. the infamous drag queen maurauders we were. we seek out the pixies of the world and torture them to death, leaving behind a glitter residue that doesn't come off without oven cleaner and ajax.

really? i thought, as the cop came barreling towards us in his misinterpreted confusion. did we really look as if we would have jumped a seventeen year old boy and beaten him to a bloody pulp? is that how things are done in minneapolis? one of the residents (yes, people live in the extended stay, some have full on decorations and/or pets that they keep in their home) cleared our names though, and corrected his mistake. we walked unsettled to rachels room in silence, past the bloodstain on the carpet (now i understand why the patterns are hideous, you really had to look for the stain... the color and design of the carpet concealed it rather nicely) and into her room, silently understanding that the next tour we go on, we will push for an upgrade in hotels. having a refridgerator is convenient, having my life is necessity.

i slept very uneasy that night, and as a precaution i checked under the bed, behind the curtains, and in the tub before i swing- and pad-locked my door and windows shut. i also woke every hour, which only ensured to calm my nerves until the next hour, all during the night. i was no spring chicken the next day.

the other girls who had to stay longer to finish some reports that no one looks at came back with a story the next day too; evidently, there was a riot downtown minneapolis. where are we? i thought, amused at the idea that the midwest could be so unruly and violent. atlanta's not even that bad in midtown, and it's ghetto as hell. the other girls said that there was a groupl of four girls that ended up attacking a cop there, after exchanging profanities and jeering at the officer as they walked down the road. there was no backup for the officer, so the girls were able to have a quick beatdown and quick exit, and the cop was left lying on the sidewalk outside of the bars in her useless bulletproof vest.

i wanted to know if the girls were covered in glitter. if they were, some shit will go down between gangs here pretty soon.

k.