It’s time for a confession. I am, in a solitary sad little word, a virgin. That’s right, the terrible V word. Every year I mean to do something about it and every year something just seems to come up. It’s as if the fates are conspiring to leave me in my unsullied state for all eternity. Or at least until thirty, which would be just as bad.
I’ve been sharing this deeply embarrassing secret with many a friend and acquaintance this year and the reaction is always the same. A gasp, a shriek, a sudden inhalation of breath. And once the initial shock has passed, a friendly pat on the shoulder, a pitying glance and an admonition to get that shit taken care of.
And so I did. I am proud to report to the world that I have been successfully de-virginized! No longer will I cast awkward glances to the ground when conversation turns to people’s first experience. No blank incomprehension masked by a smile and a nod when discussing specifics of the act.
Veni, Vedi, Vici bitches! I came to the Rocky Horror Picture Show, I saw the Rocky Horror Picture Show and I conquered the Rocky Horror Picture Show (That last part may be debatable, but that’s my story and I’m sticking to it!).
No less a de-virginizing experience than the midnight screening on Halloween night at the Rialto in fact. For the first time in my life I experienced the madness that is that camp classic.
Now I’d been warned to expect some strange things. Tossing toast (sadly, not as dirty as it sounds) was apparently to be expected. So I went in with a hazy understanding that some duck and cover might be called for, in the event my co-equipiers in horror got hostile.
Still, I really didn’t know what to expect and spent the better part of the costume contest convinced it was a staged part of the show. Speaking of which, although she came second to an admittedly impressive giant rabbit, my personal fave was the girl painted blue from head to toe in a pair of never-nude shorts and a bikini top (which she proceeded to remove to uproarious applause) dressed as Tobias Funke.
I won’t spoil the surprise for the other virgins out there or bore those in the know, but suffice it to say that one can expect a crowd dressed largely in underwear, a LOT of shit getting thrown around on cue, a six foot tall rabbit for an MC, at least one drunk guy throwing up outside (I’m going to go ahead and assume that’s a recurring motif), a great cast miming the action on screen, a series of really well choreographed dance numbers and a truly cheese-ball classic of camp cinema.
So if you, like me, are a Rocky virgin, then do yourself a favour and make next year the year. You can finally stop smiling and mumbling something when friends discuss it. More important you’ll have a shitload of fun.
One word of warning though, for the love of all that is holy get an aisle seat! Climbing over eight pairs of (admittedly scantily clad) legs to get a smoke or a drink significantly dented my alcohol consumption. And that my friends, is never a good thing!
More photos from the event can be found @ Rocky Horror Montreal Facebook Group.