This or That

I go to the Coney Island show called "This or That" with a couple of friends last night. It's a burlesque/freak show thing they do at Coney Island in the summer.

It had been a long time since I had been to it, and I didn't remember much at all. My friend Amy says, "just so you know, if you volunteer to go on stage, you will be stripped to our underwear."

I was wearing particularly modest underclothes- a grey cotton bra and long striped boy shorts, clean and new, so I wasn't worried.

They start the show, and they're looking for "contestants." I volunteer.

I really had no idea what I was in for.

There's 8 of us. One by one, we're asked to fake an orgasm. The first guy goes. I am already embarrassed as hell.

Two guys go, then one girl. Then me.

The host, named "The Great Fredini," asks me my name and to tell something interesting about myself.

"I am a high school math teacher," I reply.

The crowd roars. I think it was at this point that I won.

I have to fake the friggin' orgasm. So I do, avoiding any eye contact, while thinking to myself, "what is the most offensive thing I can moan while doing this?" and it instantly occurs to me.

"Mom."

I win. Hands down.

I beat out the boring lesbian, the award-winning sword swallower who bounced up and down on the ground in splits, and the sexagenarian sex therapist, clad in leopard panties and tight purple leggings.

Evidently, people are really into the idea of a math teacher making a fool of herself. Payback.

It turns out that being a part of the show isn't just one little contest... you're part of the entire show. 2 hours I was engaged in contest with my male opponent, ALSO coincidentally a teacher, or backstage hanging out with the burlesque artists.

On an aside, this was "furry" night. All of the burlesque artists were wearing cartoon-y animal outfits.

They take me backstage and I sign a waiver. There's no turning back. They ask me if I'm wearing clean underwear. I wonder what would have happened if I said "no."

I "competed" in 4 events.

• One of the furry burlesque artists puts a roll of toilet paper between her legs. I put a broom between mine. Without using my hands, I have to insert my broom in her toilet paper. I win.
• They put two long tubes of fabric on the ground. I have to crawl through the tube three times, each time trading an article of clothing with the stripper. It is at this point I am on stage in my bra and panties. I win. I wonder how I am going to explain the bruised knees to my boyfriend.
• I bob for phallic-shaped vegetables and fruit. It's really hard bobbing for carrots without drowning. I cut my head on the bucket. I lose, by one squash.

At this point, we go backstage for intermission. I hear the two words no one wants to hear after they've simulated sex with a furry and been on a stage in her underwear.

"Ms. Ph****ps???"

That's right. A student I had ten years ago was working security at the show. I am positive he was much more traumatized than I was.

And, the rest of the show, Fredini keeps referring to me as "Ms. Ph****ps." I cringe each time, wondering what I might like my next career to be.

The piece de resistance, the last challenge, was a "banana eating contest." It didn't matter how many I ate, but how I ate them.

"It's not quantity, it's quality," I'm reassured.

This was not a banana eating contest. It was a free-for-all. I was biting bananas from a burlesque artist's crotch, between another's boobs, from her ass. They put me on all fours and shove and squash bananas in my underwear. My opponent's burlesque artist comes over to double-team me for some GOGA. Which clinches my win.

A fantastic time. I am so very proud.

I've never worked so hard to win a blow-up doll.