read now, cry later

Provincetown update! Drag, seafood and sex in the Monkeypox era!

From left to right: Michael Musto, Abby Cummings, Anita Cocktail, Ania Bangkoks and Zola Powell at the Anita Cocktail Review at Post Office Cabaret. Photo by Citrus Hills.

Fire Island, but with actual streets instead of planks, Provincetown, Massachusetts is the crown jewel of Cape Cod for queers and allies who love seafood, shopping, nature, and drag, drag, drag. Let me pull the sequins out of my eyes and the remaining lobster tail out of my teeth, as I relate my annual trip to you in full, glorious detail. And yes, I will address various bugs going around—even though no one bothered to mention monkey pox until I brought it up!

Day one

I stayed in the heart of town at the inimitable Crew’s Quarters, which is true to its old-time sailor’s hangout vibe, complete with vintage physique magazines and hung portraits, old-time bathroom products, and vibrating pillows. The place is so friendly that some of the guys staying there lay in various states of undress, with their doors open. Can you imagine anything more welcoming?

At Crown & Anchor’s Wave Bar, I caught Mack’nifique & The Dolls, “a queer, cirque-style burlesque fantasy in the round” where they give you a “consent bracelet” on the way in, though nothing ever really becomes intrusive. As the audience of middle aged ladies in appliqued blouses filed in, I wondered if they mistakenly thought they were seeing a Chippendale’s show, though I then realized that this is the new answer to that kind of thing. It was a lively romp—based around a pole, a hoop, and a white rectangular stage—where Drigo (Andres Butler), Lady Prism (Maddi Wyda), and Spookey (Spookey Boylesque) did invigorating numbers, and so did non binary host Mackenzie Miller, who proudly admits “I don’t shave, tuck or pad” but who certainly knows how to whoosh around a stage with angel wings.

Mackenzie Miller in Mack’nifique and the Dolls, photo courtesy of Miller

Day two

I had coffee at the food court on Commercial Street, then hung out at Watership Inn, where a bunch of seasoned activists from NYC were enlightening me over hard boiled eggs. One of them (who’s old enough to have gotten the smallpox vaccine) had gone to the Dick Dock, the lower area near the Boatslip, where unbridled anonymous sex has carried on through many a plague. The man told me he nabbed lots of action there and specified that the vast majority of the other attendees were quite young. From what I hear, many P-towners feel that the initial monkey pox hysteria didn’t lead to huge symptomatic numbers (unlike 2021’s significant covid uptick after P-town’s July 4th weekend) and also, workers all around town got the first crack at the vaccine and seized it. What’s more, everyone’s weary from years of covid concerns and so, there’s an element of denial, but that’s counterbalanced by the fact that many gays don’t want to catch anything that’s potentially disfiguring. God forbid! And so, all kinds of mixed messages are spreading around town. The underwear party in its new venue (Red Room) is now more about dancing than grinding, but elsewhere, it’s doors wide open, honey. And though someone mischievously scrawled “Come get your monkey pox” in chalk by the entrance to the Dick Dock, most keep on sauntering right in.

On a cleaner note, I love that there are no chain stores in Provincetown, except for a CVS. You won’t find overpriced boutiques, just a lot of places that feel mom-and-popish and very accessible. Speaking of which, we lunched at Bubala’s By The Bay, which has a great jerk chicken sandwich with coleslaw and prime outdoor seating for the best people watching in town. Even the scary Joan Blondell lookalike at the door was in a good mood this time. Next, I rented a Townie from Ptown Bikes (42 Bradford Street) and had a stunning ride past the edge of town, whizzing by dunes, trees, water, and wildlife while somehow shrieking with joy and feeling quite butch at the same time.

But it was back to human interactions at the tea dance at the Boatslip, where the crowd was frisky, the music was retro disco, and last year’s Mariah Carey display on the terrace was still there. Having forgotten my consent bracelet, I studiously avoided the Dick Dock.

But there I was for Edie With A D. at Post Office Cabaret, where I caught up with Edie, the leggy showgirl played with great charm by Christopher Kenney. This show was a takeoff on Liza Minnelli’s award wining Liza with a Z TV special from 1972 (directed and choreographed by Bob Fosse, with Kander and Ebb songs), and it was delectable from start to finish. Edie not only managed to recreate the majority of the special—without backups–but she also interspersed talk about her own career highlights (Edie/Kenney MC’d Cirque Du Soleil’s Zumanity show for years and also was handpicked for a Fosse workshop), as well as interacting with “Edie-tini”, a cocktail version of herself that she kept urging to “Kiss me.” And it was all done with an obvious admiration for Liza—and a story about working with her too. I was stunned to learn that Edie had a swollen ankle; you never would have guessed it from the way she recreated those zazzy old dance moves. Cheers with a million Edie-tinis. What a star.

Some clubbing? Well, there’s the darkly lit bar at A-House, with an upstairs area that the door lady called “the porn room.” Come get your…leather dudes. And at the Brass Key, there’s the Shipwreck Lounge, a sprawling, indoor/outdoor hangout with a certain old world grandeur that appeals to me. There, I got to catch up with dashing actor Cory Michael Smith (Gotham, Carol), who was enjoying the shows and nightlife. But he happened to be hanging with a guy who the night before had gushed all over me—though I’m sure the person was doubly sincere, lol.

Mackenzie Miller with cast of Mack’nifique and the Dolls, photo courtesy of Miller

Day three

Lunch at the Mayflower was out of this world. It’s a glorified diner, but the utter lack of pretensions is matched by its crazy good seafood and pleasant vibe. My “Cape Cod Reuben” was a choice to be proud of.

The tea dance was rocking again, and eventually, we made it to a fancy dinner at Front Street, where the chicken francese on pasta was fab—and as for dessert, there were fudge, taffy, ice cream, gelato, and Portuguese pastry options awaiting elsewhere, for anyone that dared. Provincetown is not for dieters or self-deniers.

And up came the curtain! At his One Of The Girls! (Who’s One Of The Boys!) show at Post Office Cabaret, impressionist Randy Roberts proved to be a superb talent, who nailed Joan Rivers (“I have no sex appeal. Bill Cosby gave me an upper”) and Cher, and also scored as himself, with snappy banter and a serious song from Phantom of the Opera, done in his “legit voice”. The guy can sang! NYC needs to see way more of riotous Randy.

Another local legend is Anita Cocktail (a/k/a Michael Steers), who is talented, not to mention an important nexus for a lot of the other performers that she books. For the other night’s The Anita Cocktail Variety Hour at Post Office Cabaret, she featured Abby Cummings plus guest stars like Zola Powell and Ania Bangkoks. Whether live singing (Anita belting a Pat Benatar anthem or Abby singing about the hazards of anal sex) or lip sync (Zola doing a richly intimidating Grace Jones and Ania spinning around to Cardi B), the show was a delight, and I got to join in by performing my gender-updated classic “Stand By Your Them.” Thanks to the wondrous Anita for filling my schedule with so much subversive magic.

And it kept on coming. By now, in my cavorting around town, I had run into John Waters, David Drake (promoting a play called Jerker), Seth Rudetsky (producing/hosting a Town Hall night with Chita Rivera), singer Marieann Meringolo, and Tony nominated sisters Ann-Hampton Callaway and Liz Callaway. P-town is one of the few places where you can fill an entire day just wandering the streets and never regret a second of it.

Day four

I bravely climbed to the top of the Pilgrim Monument, a 252-foot tower with panoramic views of the whole area. My relentless bike riding has miraculously made my old legs strong enough to perform this stunt without need of a stretcher, and I felt triumphant about it! This is my Dick Dock! On the street level is the Provincetown Museum, which gives one much needed doses of history and culture before you head back to the pure hedonism.

And there were more shows at Post Office Cabaret. A wonderful surprise was Whitney: The Music of Whitney Houston, which, shockingly enough, had no drag queens in sight. The show stars Sheree Marcelle, backed by a combo, including keyboardist Mike Flanagan, who also narrated. Sheree exhibited perfect musicality, lots of soul, and also great personal style as she did a bunch of Whitney hits from “How Will I Know?” to “I Will Always Love You” and beyond. Flanagan remarked that P-town would have welcomed Whitney and Robyn (“whatever that relationship was”). He also showed behind-the-scenes footage from TV’s Cinderella, with Brandy as the title character and Whitney as the Fairy Godmother. The best part was Brandy weirdly singing in a basso register and Whitney advising her to “bring it up!” Mike also told the audience that they routinely hawk their show, but many people aren’t interested in coming because it’s not a drag show. That made it even more delicious when Sheree walked the aisle to collect tips, so she could feel like a drag queen!

By the way, Sheree and Flanagan alternate with an Adele tribute show, which they teased with an “Easy on Me” that was mind blowing. The remarkable Sheree needs to be on every TV competition show in creation, and I need to get a cut of the prize money.

At the same space, Schartt’s Creek: Honeymoon in P-town is a spoof by (and starring) Jamie Morris, who happens to be Edie’s partner in real life. I don’t watch much TV, so it was all Greek to me, but I don’t want to give it Schartt shrift since the audience seemed to get a kick out of some of the jokes (including local ones tossed in).

The night ended like every other night—hanging outside Spiritus Pizza, which is the best party in town (and the pizza ain’t bad either).

Day five

Another bike ride…another sandwich at Bubala’s…and then my surreally glorious escape was over. A hideous dinner at the Boston South Station provided a shocking return to reality. And by the way, a couple of days after I left P-town, there was a sewage crisis that led to restaurant and bar closures and hotels urging patrons not to flush too much. You hear that, Donald Trump? You won’t like it there!

Don't forget to share:

Help make sure LGBTQ+ stories are being told...

We can't rely on mainstream media to tell our stories. That's why we don't lock Queerty articles behind a paywall. Will you support our mission with a contribution today?

Cancel anytime · Proudly LGBTQ+ owned and operated