A No. 3 Enchilada Combo With A Side Of Drag Queen, Please

October 1994

I am asked to make my first trip south to consult on a Mexican restaurant in Charleston, South Carolina that has 3 months to make it or break it before the owner chains the doors. (BTW. I hate when people do this. No class. If you want to close your business, just call everyone on your employee list, tell them you've decided to close, and how/where they can pick up their last check and an excellent reference letter. Is it that hard to be decent to people who just lost their jobs, for god's sake?)

I phone the General Manager to introduce myself. Heavy southern accent on the other side of the phone. My friends in the North East are teasing me that I am going to work for a bona fide redneck. I'm a little worried, but I'm sure it will be fine. Right? Ok. Actually, I'm a little concerned.

The 12 hour drive was pleasant enough. Except for when I stopped for gas, just south of the North Carolina border. I really need gas for the second time that day. Practically on empty. Should have really stopped somewhere around Wilmington, NC when I still had a bit. Now I'm on fumes.

I pull into the first mini mart that I see. Two guys, wearing bib overalls and John Deere tractor caps are leaning against the building, near the entrance. One even has a long piece of straw sticking out of his mouth. No shit. An image of Deliverance flashes thru my mind. One quick look at the gas pumps. Damn it. They aren't automatic. I have to go inside first to pay. Passed those guys.....what to do...what to do...Get back in my car and get the hell out of there and PRAY there is another gas station nearby. Luckily there is.

Finally arriving at the restaurant a few hours later, I pull into the parking lot to be confronted by an enormous black pick up truck on enormous tires with a Confederate flag and a gun rack on the back. Oh shit.

Breathe. Breathe. We are going in!

Upon entering, I find the typical americanized Mexican restaurant, with colorful walls, serapes, margarita glasses, and a life size metal sculpture of a fierce looking bull. The hostess approaches me at the front desk. She is young, blond, has her hair in braided pigtails, with a farmer's hat and bib overalls on. Straw sticking out between her teeth. I mean tooth. Again!!!??? I'm about to freak the hell out.

Then the beautiful princess Jasmine walks by. You know. From Aladdin. Wait. Did I just see what I thought I saw? WTF?

Then Wonder Woman. W O N D E R W O M A N!!! I used to love her. And her bullet proof bracelets, lasso, and invisible plane.

OK. THAT'S IT. WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!!! SOMEONE TELL ME QUICK BEFORE I GET BACK IN MY JEEP AND LEAVE YOU FREAKS TO FLOUNDER FOR YOURSELVES!

Turns out, South Carolina is celebrating Halloween 2 days early, so that they can celebrate it on a weekend which is more profitable for the restaurants and clubs; and the kiddies don't have to trick or treat on a school night.

Whew! Ok. Regaining my composure now.

Turns out Princess Jasmine is Rob. THE NICEST PERSON I HAVE EVER MET. EVER.

Wonder Woman is Tony.

Clark Kent/Superman is Amy.

And so on.

APPARENTLY I HAVE JUST INHERITED A RESTAURANT FULL OF DRAG QUEENS AND ONE KING! LOL. OK. THIS IS GOING TO BE FUN!

And it was. Thursday nights in particular. Male servers walk into the men's room at 11pm when the dining room closes. 15 minutes later, my gosh, what a beautiful evening gown you have on. And you made it yourself? The hosiery and shoes are to die for! Some of the staff are performers, stage hands, ticket takers, or just club members at the Arcade, a famous Charleston drag show/bar/dance club. Thursday night is the big performance show each week. Local acts. National acts. And some serious drama off stage as well. Me and the rest of the staff plant ourselves at a table each Thursday, order a couple of pitchers of White Russians (because SC has antiquated liquor laws), sit back and relax watching these guys sing, dance, impersonate, and love every moment of it. And the money drop from the ceiling at midnight New Year's Eve? Now there were some Lee Press on Nails and wigs flying that night.

Overall a WONDERFUL time in South Carolina. The nicest people I have ever met. We even did a great turn around on the restaurant, thanks to the staff. Increase in sales. Increase in profit. Lower costs. Happier guests. Happier staff. (Poor management had been the issue that dragged the restaurant down to this point.)

Unfortunately, the owner got impatient and found a buyer for the property the restaurant was sitting on, prior to the 3 month deadline. A few days after my 3 month gig was up and I had left to drive back home, he chained the doors.

@%^&*(!

I felt sick about the whole thing really.

The restaurant was closed. Most of the managers were laid off. The staff was looking for work elsewhere. The kitchen and dining room were emptied of all equipment...........And then.......... the buyer backed out.

KARMA. (GOTCHA!)

A month later, I received a sort of apology and a regrettable conversation about how they shouldn't have closed the business. Seems a bit too late for that.

6 months later, I went back to visit and track down the staff. People I had considered friends. They were scattered everywhere. Some to better restaurants. Some to similar or worst places. Some to other careers. Some to the wind.

A moment in time. A lifetime of memories.