lehz’ur ledger: Burlesquities

As I nursed my bottle of Mickey’s malt liquor and peered off the balcony, I wondered—are those fireballs supposed to be coming so close to my face?

This was last Saturday, when I was confronted with a decision: I could loiter awkwardly at a rooftop party or I could see the Lucky Daredevil Thrillshow, a “fast paced and funny, death-defying daredevil stunt spectacular” at The Palace of Wonders, a bar on H Street NE (aka the Atlas District). I opted for the latter. A few years have passed since I last attended a stunt spectacular. Plus, the flyer promised nudity.

While I’ve never been to a circus, the idea of a sideshow has always fascinated me. The way I see it, if a guy decides he wants to risk his life hammering nails into his nostrils, more power to him. Am I perhaps jealous of this man, who has found freedom and happiness on a road so few dare tread? Possibly. But maybe I just like to see people doing weird shit, and weird shit abounds at The Palace of Wonders.

To wit: watching from the balcony, I was backed up against a display case full of skulls. From this vantage point, I saw host Tyler Fyre introduce the show in a blazing red suit. I don’t recall much of what he said, however, as I was too busy admiring his lovely assistant, Thrill Kill Jill, a busty gothic bombshell dressed mostly in tattoos. I was in love. Tyler won me back over, though, when he started swallowing swords.

As to be expected, everything in the show was excessively sexual. The parallels to be made between sword swallowing and other esophageal activities are obvious. I wasn’t so sure about the potentially horrifying concept behind the “reverse birth” stunt—but fortunately it only involved Thrill Kill Jill entering an enormous balloon, stripping, and escaping. Not as graphic as I feared, but the nipple tassels and nod to latex fantasies were certainly not for the kids.

The knife throwing was harrowing, and the fire breathing was exciting, but my friend and I decided it was time to leave after Coney Island Chris botched a set. His shtick was a bumbling newbie who was nervous with his act, which culminated in hammering a thirty-penny nail up his nose. The nail didn’t go very far, though. What we got instead was one tap, a yelp, and a trickle of blood. The blood seemed real enough, and we decided to leave before any more fluids were spilt.