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Loose Lips
Wednesday, 25 June 2008 02:22
p9_opinion_250.jpgRyan Perdio contemplates bingo and political correctness.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned since coming out and coming on to the scene – and I’ve learned plenty – it’s that one should keep a good distance between oneself and drag queens.

It’s not because these larger-than-life personalities carry anything infectious. It’s because anyone and anything within spitting distance is likely to be the subject of their acerbic, unforgiving wit. So it was with a healthy dose of trepidation that I agreed to a friend’s recent request to come along for a night of drag bingo.

I’d heard about this event before, where instead of the usual mild-mannered, apron-wearing nanas pulling out the balls, the bingo numbers are called by sequin-clad, wig-adorned drag queens. I’d also heard that it’s probably the only place the game is played where one would prefer not to win. A guy who did once got paid out for his conspicuous monobrow. The girls went to town with his “snail trail on forehead” for the rest of the evening.

Daunting, huh?

The night opened with a lively lip-synced performance, followed by a spirited welcome by the two drag performers, at which point the game officially began. Numbers upon numbers were soon called, and in between, one politically-incorrect joke after another. Everything and everyone was fair game: lesbians, Muslims, Aboriginals and Poms all got their serve. Even midgets weren’t spared.

The bitchiest comments, however, were reserved for the attendees. What would normally be frowned upon, I must admit, we found hilarious; all of us were having a great time. And sitting at the back of the venue, I felt relatively safe. Until one of the girls turned to our table and said, “Oh, look. We have Pumpkin’s little brother in the room: Ping-Pong!”

The crowd roared and, to my surprise, so did I! The jokes came thick and fast. I’d been teased for my Asian background before – especially in high school – but never had I enjoyed it so. Here was a drag queen, in all her tragic-looking, ill-fitting, ridiculous get-up, firing it at me for my ‘Chinky’ eyes and orange-coloured skin. It was so blatantly ludicrous that I found it nothing but hilarious.

My friends looked at me to see if I was okay. I nodded back, smiling.

And then just like that, the drag queen moved on to someone else, and back to calling bingo numbers.

The rest of the night was much of the same: numbers, jokes, performances and drinks. Eventually it came to the last game of the evening. I hadn’t won anything, except maybe a few choice words, but I was determined to come away a winner. I crossed the numbers off my cards one by one, eager to get the final prize, until only one was left behind. A few more balls were called without any luck and then finally, the one I’ve been waiting for popped out.

“Bingo!” I yelled.

“Oh, Ping-Pong has bingo!” the drag queen proclaimed as she motioned for me to come up.

I headed to the stage.

“So, Ping-Pong, what’s your name?”

“Ryan. My name is Ryan.”

“Ryan?” she said with some surprise. “That isn’t very Asian, is it?”

“Nope, but you know what?”

“What?”

“I still win the final prize!”

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Last Updated ( Thursday, 26 June 2008 03:24 )