Have you ever casually shared a fantasy with a friend who then magically made it come true? (No, not that kind of fantasy, you pervert.) I mentioned to a gentleman friend that I have always wanted to wear a tuxedo in public. Why? I have no idea. I just did. Throughout my entire life I have always gotten a kick out of crossdressing. I auditioned for boy parts in school musicals; I dressed up as a surly truck driver with a unibrow in high school; I dressed up as a man in a green suit jacket with a fake mustache for an anti-prom party (we were too young for actual prom.)
17 and channeling my inner truck driver.
Anyway, my friend said he had a surprise for me. I assumed it was tickets to a comedy show or something of that nature. When I arrived at his house, the surprise was two matching tuxedos. My inner tomboy jumped for joy; I was happier than two pigs in a puddle. He let me choose between a bright red bow tie or a classic black bow tie. I chose the flashy red one. Seeing as I’ve never put on a real bow tie before, he had to do it for me. The suit and men’s dress shoes just happened to fit me perfectly. We decided to show off our sartorial splendor by going to none other than the Cheesecake Factory (or as I like to call it: Les Factory of Les Cheeses) When we arrived at the The Americana, we turned a lot of heads. We couldn’t decide if we looked like a lesbian power couple, magicians, music execs from Berlin, ventriloquists, or good old fashion weirdos who have gone off their meds.
While we waited to be seated, we drank our manly beers at the bar. We looked and felt like confident ladykillers. Wearing a suit gives one confidence, swag, and excessive perspiration. I felt a moment of sympathy for men who wear suits to funerals and weddings. While ordering our beers, the bartender looked us up and down and asked, “What’s the occasion?” So, I improvised: “Oh, we’re magicians. We just finished a show at the Magic Castle.” Eventually, a tourist assumed we were Cheesecake Factory employees and and asked us if a table was available. Suddenly, an idea was born. We were seated and served and after some liquid courage, we went around to 20 different tables pretending to be the managers of The Cheesecake Factory. We asked if everything was tasting okay and if anyone needed more drinks. I was done with this prank after about 5 tables, but my cohort, who was completely immersed in this character, couldn’t and wouldn’t stop. We went to 20 different tables making sure everything was satisfactory and up to Cheesecake Factory standards. Towards the end, I was having a harder and harder time keeping a straight face. My partener in crime, however, didn’t break character once. I was impressed. We finally decided to make our grand exit when it became obvious that one of the waiters was on to our gag. But instead of being angry, he gave us a standing ovation and said, “That was amazing!” Now, in comedy and acting, you always want to leave them wanting more. We knew it was our cue to exit–stage left.
So, why did we pull this stunt you ask? The way we look at it, we’re all going to be dead in 100 years and life is short. Be silly. Have fun. Free your inner clown!