After a Fashion

Nakia at OctoTea (Photo by Seabrook Jones)

NIGHTMARE ON HEALTH STREET

The surgery was scheduled so fast. Suddenly, I was being admitted to the hospital for a very serious operation (having no time to get my hair done or eyelashes tinted). I went under anesthesia into dreamland. Or so I thought. "Sir, I need you to roll over onto the other gurney." "What?" I shrieked. "What for?" No one would answer, so I opened my eyes. I was indeed in the recovery room; doctors, nurses, assistants, and friends were busily turning it into a big haunted house party. There were orange crepe-paper skeletons hanging from the ceiling, leering jack-o'-lanterns piled everywhere, and a big, fuzzy, black spider dangling eerily. I was deeply, deeply confused and concerned. Dear friend Jacki Oh was directing everything while such friends as Seabrook Jones, Stephen Rice, and Mark Erwin, along with Mary Morrison and Rob Giardinelli, decorated every inch of space. I lay there screaming in pain, begging for medication, but the medical staff absolutely ignored me; they were too busy stretching black spider webbing around my bed. I could see Jacki through the webbing and pleaded tearfully for her to please help. She too ignored me and went on decorating. Nothing made sense. I saw my surgeon, dressed as Frankenstein's monster. He grinned as he breezed by carrying a bale of hay, too busy to deal with my medical needs. When the staff did notice me, it was as if I were a prisoner of war. They ordered me to move this way or that – things that were physically impossible for me to do in my eviscerated condition. After I rudely told one orderly exactly where he could put his syringe, I heard someone order Dilaudid for me. "What? I am being drugged and held against my will," I thought to myself. Finally, after what seemed to be hours, someone sat down and explained that I'd had surgery and was coming out of anesthesia. When I tried to explain all the awful hideousness and ignorance that had been occurring, I was encouraged to open my eyes. I was afraid to wake up and find myself in Little Dodo's Pumpkin Patch or somewhere equally repellent. But when I relented and opened my eyes slightly, there was no trace of Halloween decor, no costumes, and no gangs of friends lurking about. Apparently I'd had a very hallucinatory recovery that left me rattled for several days.

NIGHTMARE ON HEALTH STREET, PART 2

Speaking of Halloween nightmares, this one of a more entertaining variety, Sustainable Waves yet again presents its legendary Zombie Ball at the infinitely swank ACL Live at the Moody Theater (Saturday, Oct. 29; doors, 7:30pm; show, 9pm; www.zombieball.com) featuring the Bright Light Social Hour and Kitty Kitty Bang Bang. But the best surprise nightmare of the evening is the Zombie Ball's first ever Stephen MacMillan Moser Glam-a-Zombie Award. All costumes are welcomed, of course, but those competing in the SMM look-alike contest will be given a fan to identify themselves as contestants. I can hardly imagine the nightmares that I will have upon seeing so many interpretations of how others view me. Will there be fat Stephens? Drunk Stephens? Stephens in burning fur coats? Who knows what we'll see, but it will indeed be a dazzling event (even if I weren't involved).

NIGHTMARE ON HEALTH STREET PART 3

Last year's Dragoween was one if the very best drag events I've ever seen (and, yes, I've seen billions). The quality of the talent, the costumes, the foot-achingly long rehearsals – all will again be evident in Mike McHenry's Dragoween Presents Las Vegas: Dead or Alive, Saturday, Oct. 29, 8 & 10:30pm, at Ballet Austin (www.dragoween.com).