Kings, Queens and Monarchs! Oh, my!


Kings, Queens and Monarchs! Oh, my!

When you’re country bumpkins, as we are wont to be, a trip to a larger population centre can be quite daunting. Leaving the land of pickup trucks and mullets, we often wind our way into a land inhabited by chaos and confounding concepts. We’re like country mice heading into the city. One minute we are dodging combines and tractors and in the next moment we are on a NASCAR run of epic proportions.

It’s no wonder that Grumpy grips the steering wheel with white knuckles. He knows that disaster could happen at any moment. Cars and trucks wiz by as if he is standing still. Don’t these people realize the speed limit is 100 km/hr.? Sometimes the good wife even gets annoyed.

GOOD WIFE: “Grumpy, the guy that just passed you is over 80 for crying out loud!”

GRUMPY: “80? What the hey! I’m doing at least 110!!!!”

GOOD WIFE: “Geez Louise, I mean you just got passed by an old man who’s over 80 years old!”

GRUMPY: “Harrumph! Damned seniors – they drive like maniacs!”

You see, the Good Wife and Grumpy are off to watch the Phenom play college basketball. They will stay overnight in a nicely appointed Sheraton Four Points Hotel. This is a pretty nice place to unpack your bags for a night. They even have something called “Comfort Top” beds.

Staying at a decent hotel IS very important. The Grumpy’s have learned their lesson about going cheap on these excursions. Those $39 specials, more often than not, have turned out to be all about bikers and bedbugs.

Upon arrival, Grumpy went to the front desk to register. He was a little concerned that the desk-jockey seemed nervous and somewhat ill-at-ease. The young lady fumbled about as if agitated and, every once in a while, gave Grumpy a look of profound puzzlement. She dropped her pen at least three times. Grumpy quickly checked to see if his fly was open.

Later, the Good Wife who had remained in the car, said, “Thanks for leaving me out here alone, Grumpy. I had lots of entertainment!”

It seems as if a huge dude (as in tall and stout) decided to relieve himself into a giant flower pot under the portico of the hotel. His fly was definitely open.This occurred while other rather rotund and unusual people stood by. It appeared as if the hotel might be inhabited by a conclave of hulking homeless people.

And, most of them were men.

No matter, the registration went without incident and the Grumpy’s quickly scrambled up to their room. The room, once viewed, had Grumpy thinking that he could care less about the “comfort top bed”.

Why?

Because the accoutrement that would be tops for him this night would certainly be that there was NO PUMBA THE FARTING DOG around to badger and hound him!

No, canine feet walking up his back at three am.

No, dogged breathed wet muzzle snuffling his ear.

No whispers of, “I want out. I want out . . . NOW! I gotta go PEE!”

You see, Pumba has peed on every flower pot in our yard and then some. Pumba shows no prejudice. Indeed, he makes the guy at the hotel look like a crass amateur; a mere piddler by Pumba’s standards.

Now this particular Four Points has a great Italian restaurant -The Piazza Pasta & Wine Bar. We’ve eaten there before because we’ve made this trip a few times. The Grumpy’s decided they’d head down for an Italian or Mediterranean salad, not wanting to be bloated and irritable for the game. After the adventure they’d had so far, Grumpy felt as if he also required a purely medicinal and very tall – glass of draft beer.

The restaurant is situated in a huge atrium and from our table we could view the switchback stairway. It was fully open, allowing us to people watch as guests went up or down. “People watching” is something we do, being country bumpkins and the curious sorts that we are. But, Grumpy assures you we never stare. We’ve got surreptitious viewing down to an art – dark glasses are our trademark.

Anyway, the Good Wife and Grumps noticed several beautifully dressed women descending the stairwell. These women wore fine-looking gowns, heavy jewelry and makeup that must have took hours to apply. Their hair was fluffed and puffed, sitting high upon their heads. They wore high heels that made them look like giant Amazon women – but they were not savages – these Amazons were dressed to the nines. Each of them appeared as if they were preened and prepped to attend a magnificent ball – none of them had a male escort.

In the meantime, Grumpy left the table to head to the loo. A tall glass of draft beer does that to him. And, he is not partial flower pots, especially when they are outside and exposed to the winds of November. The back-spray can be just nasty.

On his way back to the table he looked down the corridor leading to the conference rooms. It was cordoned off with sheer black drapery. Standing guard was a young male in a tuxedo. Grumpy nearly tripped over his feet when he saw that the dudes face was covered in makeup and he wore a diamond tiara on his head – princess style.

Upon returning to the table the Good Wife and Grumpy decided that something very unusual was going on at the Four Points. We proceeded to ask the waitress if she could provide some information. Waitresses we find are good sources of scuttlebutt when it comes to hotel gossip.

With a wry smile and a chuckle she said, “Oh, yes they surely are dressed to perfection. Did you notice the heavy jewellery they all wear? I couldn’t begin to carry that stuff without a getting a sore back. You see they’re all pretty strong because they are all MEN!”

Grumpy and the Good wife stood in stunned silence with their jaws hanging slack and agape. Indeed these ladies were really strong because they were really big men. And with a ho ho ho, Grumpy’s assures you these prom Queens were Jolly Green Giant size.

“You see, they all belong to a society called THE IMPERIAL SOVEREIGN COURT,” the waitress went on. “Tonight they are about to crown their new monarchs in a gala event called Coronation XI. There are people her from all over, even the United States.”

She went on to tell us that the local chapter of the I.S.C. was hosting this lala-palooza extravaganza. The event had this as its moniker, “Wham, Glam, Thank You Ma’am: A Costume Party Celebrating A Flashback To The 40’s”. This would be to be a royal gala with a theme, no less.

zzzzzzzzprogram

The Good Wife, after recovering her composure, had only one thing to say to Grumpy, “You’ve got to Google this!”

Here are a few facts Grumpy gathered. He provides them for your education and delight.

The Imperial Sovereign Court is a local chapter of the International Alliance of Courts (I.A.C.) which consists of over 65 courts throughout the United States of America, Canada, Mexico, and the United Kingdom.

As the second largest fundraising organization in the global homophile/homophile-positive community, the I.A.C. has been a substantial force over the last 40 years.

Their motto represents: “The House Of Mythical Creatures Gods And Goddesses Protecting The Faith Of Olympus Where Everything Old Is New Again Expect the Unexpected”. And, “Our uniqueness is that we model our organization after that of a monarchical society.”

The society is currently ruled by Empress 10 and Regent Emperor 10. Hence, this event is to proclaim Coronation XI. The Grand Ball would effectively follow.

Now, you need to know that each member of this “society” has an alias/title much like you might have a nickname on Facebook or Twitter.

The Empress in 1998 went by: THE BARGAIN BASEMENT, BACK TO BASICS, I’M TOO BUSY TO BE A BARBIE GIRL BARONESS H.I.S.M. EMPRESS 1998. Or in 2001 the Empress was crowned: HELL’S MISTRESS OF MAYHEM THE SHAKE IT TILL YA BREAK IT GODDESS OF THE GROOVE THE ORIGINAL BAD GIRL H.I.S.M. Or how about 2002’s Emperor: THE REVVED UP REBEL WITH A CAUSE BORN TO BE WILD CHILD, BAD BOY BARON  KEEPER OF THE BLOOD RED STONE  WHEN YOUR THIS BIG THEY CALL YOU MISTER SISTER CLOSED THE CHAPTER BUT NOT THE BOOK SWING KING   H.I.S.M. EMPEROR 2002.

zzzzzzzMonarchs

Grumpy wonders why they don’t simply call this dude Emperor Bob.

Kings, Queens and Monarchs, oh my!

The only experience Grumpy has with “drag” is that he is required to drag his big butt around wherever he goes  – daily. Well, of course, there was that incident in Grade 8 when Grumpy and Kenny dressed up like women for Halloween! But really, that event sealed the deal for the Grumps. His interest in cross dressing was a one off, you see.

But, who are we to question the motivation or direction of these folks? They do raise millions of dollars in their community. After all, Grumpy comes from the land of Fair Day, Demolition Derby, Pumpkinfest and Friday 13th biker rallies in Port Dover. Heck, we recently had a Zombie walk in one of the nearby communities.

zzzzzzombie

After all was said and done, it became perfectly clear why that demure desk clerk had been so agitated when Grumpy registered. She wondered why Grumpy was so short, how he might look in an evening gown and if make-up could ever make his ugly mug look womanly pretty. Maybe she wondered what a little old guy like the Grumps was doing at such an event, given that he might have reminded her of her own grandfather. What a perplexing conundrum for that poor little girl. Grumpy sincerely hopes that she didn’t require counselling or some kind of psychological intervention.

Upon leaving the hotel on Sunday, Grumpy and the Good Wife had company on the elevator. The towering dude was at least six five and burly but well groomed and dressed. He was clean shaven and rather stoic. He looked like a distinguished accountant. Nevertheless, Grumpy couldn’t help thinking about what this guy might have looked like in a sequined dress. You see, the lobby was crawling with a host of big gregarious men that morning.

Within the privacy of the Clown Car, you might expect that the conversation went something like this.

GRUMPY: “Did you see that, Honey? The dude in the elevator was the guy in the emerald dress.”

GOOD WIFE: “I’m not so sure. Even without heels – he seemed too tall.”

GRUMPY: “Hon, it was his hands that gave him away. Didn’t you see the hint of green nail polish on his pinky?”

GOOD WIFE: “No, I was too busy admiring his GUCCI purse.”

GRUMPY: “So that’s what it was. Holy cow, I thought it was a fancy bag for carrying a bowling ball.”

zzzzzzguccibag

Advertisements

Leave a Reply and GRUMPY will write you back.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s