He spends the next 15 minutes going from table to table, humping up against patrons while they tuck dollar bills in his briefs. But once he gets down to his green thong underwear, his body is all muscle. He’s finally forced to sit on the floor to take off his motorcycle boots. Lightning is a terrible dancer - and for that matter, not much of a stripper. The stage lights flash wildly, there are loud motorcycle sound effects and Miss Beaver introduces Mr. “Haven’t you ever seen a man in a woman’s dress before? We don’t bite - unless you ask us to.” Miss Beaver gives a free drink to the first patron to demonstrate he’s wearing no underwear, another to the first who can produce a condom. On the small stage is an emcee in drag who calls himself “Miss Fever Beaver.” “What’s the matter?” he asks at one point. At 11:30 on a Saturday night, about 40 or 50 people have made their way here, nearly all of them men and men dressed like women. It’s the kind of place that if you didn’t know where it was, you’d probably never find it. There’s only one small hard-to-read sign.
THE BAR, CALLED FUSION WAIKIKI, IS LOCATED UP a dark staircase off a deserted Kuhio Avenue courtyard. The message? We’re here, so get used to us. Forced to organize by the AIDS crisis, the island Gay community is flexing
