The Donkey Show

A few weeks ago, my friend Roxie and I went to see “The Donkey Show” in Boston. I knew two things going into it:
1.) A “donkey show” is a euphamism for a sex act involving a woman and a donkey in which the woman fornicates with said donkey, typically performed in rural Mexican cities. I know this because of Clerks II.
2.) The donkey show WE were going to see was some sort of 70s sing-a-long musical where people were encouraged to dress up.

Imagine our surprise as we stood in line (adorned in sequined headbands) to see a man wearing a rainbow wig and women wearing items like zebra-print boots, flourescent leggings, and shiny metallic shirts. We realized pretty quickly that we were pretty tamely dressed considering our counterparts. Immediately before the doors opened, two women with faces and afros like permed Jan Brady (but dressed as twin men, akin to Larry from “Three’s Company”) ran out through the line chatting up patrons.

Walking in to the Oberon theater, I was agog.

There were shirtless men in gold lamé hotpants with every inch of their exposed skin covered in glitter dancing on pedestals and railings to disco music.

There was a man painted flourescent green in a gold singlet, a cape, gold winged headband, and glow-in-the-dark-glasses on rollerskates who whizzed by and UP SOME STEPS.

There was a topless dancer with butterfly pasties and a cape dancing on the balcony.

As we grabbed some drinks at the bar, we tried to stand back and take in the scene, but found ourselves being grinded on by a skinny silvery glitter-clad dancer with a whistle around his neck.

When purchasing tickets for said show, we went for the cheapest option: floor seats. What we didn’t know was that “floor seats” meant active members in a show about a show. Essentially, we had cast ourselves to play the role of “audience member” and found ourselves in a conga line dancing across the stage with some glittery dancers. During the show, the pedestals were rolled (with dancers dancing) through the audience, the rollerskater jumped from the stage through the crowd, and the topless dancer was carried past us a few times.

Talk about front-row entertainment.

The funny part is that as we walked into the theater, Roxie said something like, “This looks like something out of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’” Little did we know, but the entire show was inspired by the Shakespearan story told through the magic of 70s disco anthems. Forest fairies represented by men in glitter; a queen as a topless dancer; and some magic dust replaced with the 70s version of angel dust.

So it was educational. Kinda.