Rehearsal for the show with Darla had gone well this afternoon, and now I was at the bar sipping a soda and waiting for 4pm. At that time, I'd go in the back to the dressing room and start getting ready for our show tonight. Darla would already be there, because it took him a much more elaborate time frame to get ready. His character was much more complex than mine. 

Tonight, I'd be wearing a subtle gray 1940's inspired suit dress and matching hat. My hair would be black and in a style which befitted that. Tata would be doing my makeup, and he was excited about it. I was excited about that most of all, too. All the while as I got ready, Darla would be in front of the grandest vanity mirror slowly doing his own makeup. It took a long time, and sometimes I'd not so secretly be watching him, as he could plainly see me doing this in the mirror. I didn't care, though. He was an expert that should be given the highest regard, and should be studied like this by those who are younger. We should all be honored to do so. 

Darla's full drag name was Strange Darla, and he lived up to that reputation. His drag had become more subdued over time, but back in the day he'd get up on stage almost looking like a clown. His philosophy was that if people thought he was weird for being a drag queen, why not be the weirdest? Make them really stare, really remember. And if they remembered, maybe they'd be intrigued enough to come back. Therefore, he'd wear the most outrageous things. His drag was high art in this way. He wasn't always dressed as a girl, but rather like some genderless alien, not of this world. 

His colors were bright and he favored rainbows of course. He says it's his favorite color. On stage, he'd claim to be so old that he'd invented impossible things. "I invented the microwave. I invented ninjas. I invented your grandmother." His age wasn't quite known, but we had a ballpark estimate. He'd say, "you never ask a lady her age!" But, he was old enough to have met Tata when he was nineteen years old and still have been middle aged at the least, so that was good enough for me. 

In some ways, he did act his age. There was a wisdom there that you just don't get without it. He could say many profound things. He'd taught me so much in my relatively short time knowing him. In other ways, he didn't act his age at all. In fact, he was ageless in the way that he could expertly throw shade and yet make it sound like a compliment. He called this "reading" and it was a fine art. I couldn't do that to save my life. It was often so subtle that I'd realize he'd said something insulting hours later, or Tata would have to point it out to me. 

The one thing he was serious about was singing. This was his act, and he didn't believe a girl should go out on stage without some kind of talent. This talent could be anything really, as long as the queen was confident in doing it. That confidence was the talent, in that case. And he had a lot of confidence in his singing. His voice was unique to say the least. He did not sound female in any way, but you believed his illusion as you watched him. In that way, that was one of his talents, too. He used to be a one man show, singing with music in the background. He owned the whole stage, incorporating comedy and even weird props. 

One of my favorite bits was one of the first I saw. He'd been performing at a small, but respected theater. All of us had been waiting for him to come out onto the stage from behind the curtain. This went on for a long time. His introductory music played over and over again in cycles. Tata had begun to wonder if something had gone wrong. He was leaned over to me, telling me this, when all of a sudden Darla stepped out grandly. His white wings were outstretched and Tata's jaw dropped so close to my face. I realized my mouth was open, too.

Darla had come out onto the stage in a giant white chicken suit. "I am a chicken," he'd announced dramatically into his microphone. "Not all song birds are canaries, you know. Sometimes they are chickens. You might say, 'hey, that's not drag! I paid to see a drag show! I want my money back! Hey!'" 

We were all dying laughing at this point, because what the hell was happening?

He went on without missing a breath. "Well, this is drag! All chickens are girls! I don't care that I'm hiding a rooster in here! But, 'oh, Darla, this is wrong! This is wrong! What can a chicken sing?!' Well, aren't you the judgey one?! A chicken can do anything, just like a canary! Don't give canaries all the credit for singing, you bird racist!" He'd paused so seriously in the moment, then said with a deep voice drop, "we now interrupt your scheduled programming for the rooster within. I'm very high right now." 

I laughed so hard I folded over into my lap with my hands over my face, completely helpless. And it just went on from there. I'd laughed so hard that I'd cried, wiping my tears with both hands the whole show. He'd even sang songs about chickens, popular things with chicken replaced lyrics. There was even a metal song with the rooster within doing the death vocals and headbanging. Then the chicken started gushing about how she wanted Donald Duck to be her boyfriend, and that we shouldn't discriminate about love between ducks and chickens, because that was once again racist. He'd then called Daisy Duck something I couldn't repeat, but let's just say she was a homewrecker and serial dream killer. 

This had not been the show that he'd told us he'd be doing at all. He'd even made a big thing of hinting at the lovely dress he'd be wearing all week. But, Tata said this was just him. He did stuff like that all the time. You never knew what you were going to get.

 And sometimes, like tonight, it was pretty normal. It was the same theory, you never knew what you were going to get. Tonight we were doing straight up American jazz, starting with the song "Take the A Train". He'd be wearing a draping and glittering black dress to the floor that was very loose fitting, but came back into a column shape just above the knee. It reminded me of something Liza Minnelli might wear. His wig was going to be something fit for a flapper, reminding me of Louise Brooks. With it all, he'd be wearing an authentic long string of pearls that went to his waist and back again. I couldn't wait to see it all put together. 

We had a guest trumpet player joining us as well, and she'd been so kind and was an absolute virtuoso. There were parts of the show where she'd be front and center just in her element playing as Darla danced badly and goofily on purpose off to the side to her wonderful music. All I'd been able to do during the rehearsal of this was smile awkwardly and enjoy them just as our audience soon would be. I wanted to play with that trumpet player some time again, but I was nervous to ask. 

In some ways, I wasn't sure if this show was supposed to be a parody of jazz, or if what we were doing was jazz. We were certainly playing jazz, and jazz was what Darla sang best, but there were so many jokes in the show. I decided to run with it anyway. No matter what we were doing, I was happy to be a part of it. I'd performed with him many times by now over the four years of knowing him, and every time was an honor. Besides, one of the best things about jazz was that it was open to interpretation, unlike a lot of kinds of music. Maybe then, what we were doing really was jazz and there was nothing to worry about. Darla certainly wasn't worried, and most of all he wasn't worried about offending anyone. I hoped to one day have that confidence, but it was once again just his wisdom and I wouldn't be able to acquire that unless I was as old as him, however old that was.

For now, I was just thinking about the rehearsal we'd finished. Tata hadn't been watching, because he'd been in a meeting with Heizou and Miyuki. This show would be entirely new to him, therefore. He'd heard me practicing pieces of it at home, but it had sounded like normal jazz. He had no idea, really, what was coming. I couldn't wait. I only felt so proud. There was something about performing with an absolute professional that makes you more confident. I knew that even if I made a mistake, Darla would carry the show, because he was a legend. He'd never let me worry, in that way. 

It made me wonder if this kind of excited anticipation was how Darla always felt. He appeared calm most of the time, but that just made his character on stage even worse. Being his friend made him even funnier on stage to us, because it appeared that the whole time off the stage he was playing the straight man to this goofy character all the time. And yet, sometimes that goofy character peeked out in normal situations with the most incredible and playful jabs that caught us off guard and made us laugh all the more hard.

I could hardly contain myself, the more I thought about him. I wanted to show the world what we had prepared. 

The trumpet player we'd be performing with sat at the bar with me as I was deep in thought. We looked at each other, smiling. Io came over to serve her a drink, and I happily took another sip of mine, just bursting for what was coming next.