Me: Well! Go on. As the Pink Ladies said to Sandy "Tell me more. Tell me more."
Coworker: Okay. Now Saturday was the Russian River Mr Leather competition. And I was Judge's Boy.
Me: I know that you've put in a great deal of community work on this. Well done.
Coworker: But the M.C. was Donna Sachet.
Coworker: Donna Sachet is the 30th Empress of San Francisco.
Me: Ah! I see. Royalty.
Coworker: She was elected as Empress in 1995.
Me: Now that's the way to run a monarchy!
"Her Majesty is a pretty nice girl
but she doesn't have a lot to say."
(From Donna Sachet's own site, linked above.)
Coworker: And Donna and I sat together at the evening's awards dinner.
Me: Because protocal dictates that Judge's Boy sits to the right of the Empress of San Francisco.
Coworker: Exactly. And we were having a great time discussing things, but Donna needed to make it an early evening so she could get back to the City for her next social engagement.
Me: And that was?
Coworker: Escorting Prince Charles to see Beach Blanket Babylon.
I let this significant chain of events soak in. (I'm quite pleased with that 'chain' metaphor, by the way.) I was deeply impressed. But I rallied.
Me: Oh good! Perhaps she'll give him some fashion and accessorizing tips to pass along to his mother.
Coworker: I'm going back to my desk.
Now Beach Blanket Babylon is just the sort of thing that the rest of America deplores about the Bay Area. We even offended Hollywood with it! I suppose it is our combination of scenery, weather, fantastic restaurants, and an all-embracing liberal ethos for life's pleasures -- and the 'pains' we take to get those pleasures -- that makes San Francisco the target of others' ire and poorly-masked inadequacies. (Yes, I AM looking right at you Bill O'Reilly. Anything happens to Coit Tower and you are going to find yourself waking up with a crowd around you. That last name buys you nothing with Gavin Newsom. Or me.)
Me: Rambling again, aren't I?
Coworker: Yes, but it was worth it for the Bill O'Reilly swipe.
Me: He's a bastard! But go on.
Coworker: They say that the design of Coit Tower is based on the nozzle of a fireman's hose.
Me: Do they really?
Me: Oh Yes. I see that now. Was there a particular fireman they had in mind?
Coworker: So anyway, I'm sure that there's been some coverage of Charles and Camilla at the show.
Me: I'll check.
From the Contra Costa Times:
Outside Club Fugazi, a red carpet and patient paparazzi. Inside, spines are straight. Language is proper. There is no denim in sight. It feels like a European city, not an American one.
Dressed in suits and sequins, San Francisco's glitterati is on its best behavior, laughing a little harder at a show they've seen dozens of times. This San Francisco institution is the longest running musical in history, and even the prince's mum likes it.
A rosy-cheeked Prince of Wales, dressed in a navy suit and seated next to his wife, Camilla, leans forward, grins, and asks a local dignitary, "How many times have you seen this show?" The prince knows: This is the place to bring visiting heads of state.
And when a show can be tailored to tickle even the most royal funny bone, why not? In tonight's journey to find her prince, Snow White is escorted by a French-prostitute-Italian-waitress-Jewish-yenta who introduces her to celebs of the past decade.
Enter Hillary Clinton, dressed as the Statue of Liberty in a 2008 presidential campaign and gripping a larger-than-life bottle of Viagra for her hubby, Bill, who's busy flirting with anything that moves.
Outdated, yes, but roars ensue regardless. It is safe to laugh. When weapons of mass destruction or Scooter Libby's career come up, the laughs are thinner, more hesitant. The closest we get to current politics lands Snow White in "gay" Paris, where a flamboyant Louis XIV in a Pepto-pink wig croons, "I'm still a twosome/Thanks to Gavin Newsom."
And indeed, there's a new page on the Beach Blanket site with photos of the royal visit. They take ages to load. But if you click on it, you'll enjoy the site of Prince Charles and King Louis XIV sharing the stage.