Last night after wearing a dress and slow dancing with a very drunk Polish boy of about my same age who insisted on thrusting into me while dancing, I then proceeded to do a striptease down to my underwear. The undies and the wig and make up were the only thing between me and my birthday suit, and the crowd of about 150 onlookers from all over Europe and Tunisia. But let me back up.
After dinner we decided to take a stroll as a family unit along the corniche, the beachside pathway that runs the length of Boujaafar Beach, the principle beach of Sousse. Bilel, Kamel, Cherifa and I all strolled together, and then Bilel and I continued on to the more touristy area of the downtown center of Sousse. When we turned back, we passed a hotel that was having "animations et spectacles" the cheesy sort of shows for guests at all inclusive hotels that typically involve hula dancing and roast pigs despite not having any sort of relation to pacific islander culture. Needless to say we decided (Bilel decided) that we should go up and check it out. So we did.
The show was in full swing, and it seemed to be geared at children, there was dancing with hand motions and German lyrics that everyone seemed to know. They were dancing in circles and doing a samba line and all those silly sorts of things. Just watching it made me embarrassed. Bilel was trying his best to get me to dance too, but that sort of embarrassment is the sort of thing I loathe, so I declined and said I was happy enough watching.
After the show ended there was an awards ceremony for the previous night's "Miss Hotel" show where three women competed against each other to be the queen of the hotel. They all got prizes and were publicly embarrassed by kissing the MC who was running the whole show. After they stepped down, the music died down and the MC said for tonight he needed 3 boys to participate in the Mr. Hotel show. I chuckled thinking, I would rather die that do that sort of shit in public. Next thing I know, Bilel, much to my chagrin and ignorant of my protests, shot his hand up and said "This American wants to do it." Ant that was all there was too it. An American is far more exciting than another wasted Eastern European. And for the next hour I proceeded to descend down a shame spiral, witnessed by 150 of my closest strangers.
There were several parts to the show, each progressively more embarrassing than the last I would say. It started with introductions. I said I was Andrew from Los Angeles, and as the night progressed I became Andre from California. Whatever. I then had to sing a song for the audience, as did my competitors. Sensing that I wasn't that nervous, just slightly annoyed the MC told me I had to sing a song in Arabic of his choice. So after mumbling along with him for a while he said, "Now you sing own song from American." So I burst into Bohemian Rhapsody. Not the easiest a capella song to sing, but I belted it and the crowd was cool with it.
The next round, me and my opponents (a Czeck guy and an Italian guy, both around 19) and I had to repeat our songs with 3 large pieces of ice in our mouths. This was cold, and I sounded roughly like a beagle baying in the backyard along with Queen album. From the video footage, Bilel found this hilarious. The crowd again was pleased with my efforts. At this point after joking and yammering it was time for the intermission.
We three contestants for Mr. Hotel were shooed into a tiny backstage area and told to strip down to our underwear. I started taking off my clothes but the Italian and the Czech guy just looked at me blankly. They didn't really speak French or English very well. So I said in Spanish take your clothes off. I have never told another man to take his clothes off before. So there I was standing with two 19 year old Europeans in my underwear, when out of nowhere dresses, wigs and make up appeard. FUCK. We were now entering the drag show portion of the competition. In practical terms I was thinking the crowd must get bored at some point.
So after having greasy make up smeared on my face, a wig slapped on my head (god knows who else has worn that sweaty polyester wig) and a tight black dress thrown over me in my boxer briefs, I looked like a whore who had seen better days and too many buffets. "Don't worry" they told us back stage. 'this is all clean. professional." Right.
I was not a cute girl. But nevertheless we were paraded out in front of the crowd to cheers and shrieks of laughter from drunk men. We were instructed to make a lap and then come back. So we came back to the stage and sat back down on our contestant's stools. It was then explained to us that we each had to go 'seduce a man' to be our dance partner. One at a time the Italian got up, then the Czech, and then I stood up and this Polish rugby player came sprinting at me and hugged me, was caressing my wig/hair, holding my hand, and saying 'we gonna be win! we gonna be win! i love you! this is gonna be winning!" I got the idea hew as excited.
So in couples, one couple at a time we had to first slow dance. Here we are back where we started. So we slowdanced to turn around bright eyes and he insisted on being very intimate and 'real' and thrusting into my thigh. It was very uncomfortable and far too much Polish for me. After that we each had to take a turn fast dancing to 50s swing music. He spun me around, I spun him around then he charged at me with all his might (he was about 5'6 and stocky and muscular, but still) and picked me up oer his shoulder and then was too drunk and fell down, me on top of him, dress and all, crotch in his face. The crowd went wild for that. Then I the dainty lady picked him up and spun him around. If you aren't grimacing reading this, imagine watching it. It will make you wince. Then imagine doing it. I was getting more and more furious at Bilel for tricking me into doing this.
I thought the embarrassment would end there, but no. It was time for, as the DJ said in his mockery of good English, "time for each lovely lady make for teasing sexy dance boom boom striptease!!!" Again the crowd loved this. The speakers thumped heavily and Lady Marmalade came on. I insisted in French that I would not undress, and that the DJ could politely go f*** himself but he just laughed and made me do it. I think this is what prostitutes must feel like. But in any case I was in short order standing in my boxer briefs swinging a dress around in circles over my head. It was horrifying.
Then I had to beat my chest and yell like Tarzan, which thanks to my dad I can do well. After that I had to do beach body muscle poses. Then I had to go form conga lines in the crowd and I finished up, along with the other dudes, with a solo belly dance. In nothing but underwear, a wig and make up. At this point I wasn't really embarrassed anymore as they had all been staring at me in my undies for over 20 minutes. I was still mad at Bilel, and starting to laugh hysterically in my head at the utter insanity of the situation. Here I was in Tunisia at an all inclusive resort hotel at which I was not a guest, competing in the mr. hotel competition, in my underwear/dressed in drag, belly dancing, supposedly here for an internship for my masters, pissed off, embarrassed, and yet still wanting to win a little bit. It was all too much. Finally sexy belly dance music ended and I got to sit.
Then it was decision time. The judges conferred among themselves (two lovely Belgian women) and they came back with an answer. The MC said, thank you to you all, thanks to our contestants, and the winner is.......ANDREW FROM AMERICA!!!! There was anemic applause and some whoops from the drunk Tunisians and Polish kids, but the crowd was bored now. We had been doing this for over an hour. People wanted more drinks. I wanted about 10 drinks. I bowed and blew a kiss. Then finally we were dismissed. Supposedly, now, if I return tonight I will win very nice prize. Well I say fuck that. They can take their prize and stick it....somewhere else.
What a night, and all on a Wednesday and all totally sober. What a night.
After dinner we decided to take a stroll as a family unit along the corniche, the beachside pathway that runs the length of Boujaafar Beach, the principle beach of Sousse. Bilel, Kamel, Cherifa and I all strolled together, and then Bilel and I continued on to the more touristy area of the downtown center of Sousse. When we turned back, we passed a hotel that was having "animations et spectacles" the cheesy sort of shows for guests at all inclusive hotels that typically involve hula dancing and roast pigs despite not having any sort of relation to pacific islander culture. Needless to say we decided (Bilel decided) that we should go up and check it out. So we did.
The show was in full swing, and it seemed to be geared at children, there was dancing with hand motions and German lyrics that everyone seemed to know. They were dancing in circles and doing a samba line and all those silly sorts of things. Just watching it made me embarrassed. Bilel was trying his best to get me to dance too, but that sort of embarrassment is the sort of thing I loathe, so I declined and said I was happy enough watching.
After the show ended there was an awards ceremony for the previous night's "Miss Hotel" show where three women competed against each other to be the queen of the hotel. They all got prizes and were publicly embarrassed by kissing the MC who was running the whole show. After they stepped down, the music died down and the MC said for tonight he needed 3 boys to participate in the Mr. Hotel show. I chuckled thinking, I would rather die that do that sort of shit in public. Next thing I know, Bilel, much to my chagrin and ignorant of my protests, shot his hand up and said "This American wants to do it." Ant that was all there was too it. An American is far more exciting than another wasted Eastern European. And for the next hour I proceeded to descend down a shame spiral, witnessed by 150 of my closest strangers.
There were several parts to the show, each progressively more embarrassing than the last I would say. It started with introductions. I said I was Andrew from Los Angeles, and as the night progressed I became Andre from California. Whatever. I then had to sing a song for the audience, as did my competitors. Sensing that I wasn't that nervous, just slightly annoyed the MC told me I had to sing a song in Arabic of his choice. So after mumbling along with him for a while he said, "Now you sing own song from American." So I burst into Bohemian Rhapsody. Not the easiest a capella song to sing, but I belted it and the crowd was cool with it.
The next round, me and my opponents (a Czeck guy and an Italian guy, both around 19) and I had to repeat our songs with 3 large pieces of ice in our mouths. This was cold, and I sounded roughly like a beagle baying in the backyard along with Queen album. From the video footage, Bilel found this hilarious. The crowd again was pleased with my efforts. At this point after joking and yammering it was time for the intermission.
We three contestants for Mr. Hotel were shooed into a tiny backstage area and told to strip down to our underwear. I started taking off my clothes but the Italian and the Czech guy just looked at me blankly. They didn't really speak French or English very well. So I said in Spanish take your clothes off. I have never told another man to take his clothes off before. So there I was standing with two 19 year old Europeans in my underwear, when out of nowhere dresses, wigs and make up appeard. FUCK. We were now entering the drag show portion of the competition. In practical terms I was thinking the crowd must get bored at some point.
So after having greasy make up smeared on my face, a wig slapped on my head (god knows who else has worn that sweaty polyester wig) and a tight black dress thrown over me in my boxer briefs, I looked like a whore who had seen better days and too many buffets. "Don't worry" they told us back stage. 'this is all clean. professional." Right.
I was not a cute girl. But nevertheless we were paraded out in front of the crowd to cheers and shrieks of laughter from drunk men. We were instructed to make a lap and then come back. So we came back to the stage and sat back down on our contestant's stools. It was then explained to us that we each had to go 'seduce a man' to be our dance partner. One at a time the Italian got up, then the Czech, and then I stood up and this Polish rugby player came sprinting at me and hugged me, was caressing my wig/hair, holding my hand, and saying 'we gonna be win! we gonna be win! i love you! this is gonna be winning!" I got the idea hew as excited.
So in couples, one couple at a time we had to first slow dance. Here we are back where we started. So we slowdanced to turn around bright eyes and he insisted on being very intimate and 'real' and thrusting into my thigh. It was very uncomfortable and far too much Polish for me. After that we each had to take a turn fast dancing to 50s swing music. He spun me around, I spun him around then he charged at me with all his might (he was about 5'6 and stocky and muscular, but still) and picked me up oer his shoulder and then was too drunk and fell down, me on top of him, dress and all, crotch in his face. The crowd went wild for that. Then I the dainty lady picked him up and spun him around. If you aren't grimacing reading this, imagine watching it. It will make you wince. Then imagine doing it. I was getting more and more furious at Bilel for tricking me into doing this.
I thought the embarrassment would end there, but no. It was time for, as the DJ said in his mockery of good English, "time for each lovely lady make for teasing sexy dance boom boom striptease!!!" Again the crowd loved this. The speakers thumped heavily and Lady Marmalade came on. I insisted in French that I would not undress, and that the DJ could politely go f*** himself but he just laughed and made me do it. I think this is what prostitutes must feel like. But in any case I was in short order standing in my boxer briefs swinging a dress around in circles over my head. It was horrifying.
Then I had to beat my chest and yell like Tarzan, which thanks to my dad I can do well. After that I had to do beach body muscle poses. Then I had to go form conga lines in the crowd and I finished up, along with the other dudes, with a solo belly dance. In nothing but underwear, a wig and make up. At this point I wasn't really embarrassed anymore as they had all been staring at me in my undies for over 20 minutes. I was still mad at Bilel, and starting to laugh hysterically in my head at the utter insanity of the situation. Here I was in Tunisia at an all inclusive resort hotel at which I was not a guest, competing in the mr. hotel competition, in my underwear/dressed in drag, belly dancing, supposedly here for an internship for my masters, pissed off, embarrassed, and yet still wanting to win a little bit. It was all too much. Finally sexy belly dance music ended and I got to sit.
Then it was decision time. The judges conferred among themselves (two lovely Belgian women) and they came back with an answer. The MC said, thank you to you all, thanks to our contestants, and the winner is.......ANDREW FROM AMERICA!!!! There was anemic applause and some whoops from the drunk Tunisians and Polish kids, but the crowd was bored now. We had been doing this for over an hour. People wanted more drinks. I wanted about 10 drinks. I bowed and blew a kiss. Then finally we were dismissed. Supposedly, now, if I return tonight I will win very nice prize. Well I say fuck that. They can take their prize and stick it....somewhere else.
What a night, and all on a Wednesday and all totally sober. What a night.
Hahaha congratulations! I couldn't be prouder. Te echo de menos, Mr. Hotel.
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