Saturday, November 3, 2007

Queens, Queers & Quitting All Urges to Ever Drink Fanta Again

“This will be my first gay experience!” Jonah told us excitedly.
On Wednesday, we left work early to watch the District’s Annual High Heel Drag Race, a one-minute sprint down a stretch of road off Dupont Circle. The entire scene felt ridiculously like Halloween at Ohio University (which makes it onto PubClub.com’s “Top Party Schools” solely for its town-wide holiday bash), only a little more adult — the drunk folks were mostly in suits, straight from their 9 to 5’s, or else they were in extreme drag.

Dozens of queens paraded down 17th — Condi Rice & Hillary Rodham Clinton both made somewhat masculine appearances (not so far from the truth, I suppose), as did the real-life Mayor Adrian Fenty, sporting a snazzy black fedora & waving to the crowd. Politicians weren’t the only ones in attendance: glittery Flinstones characters & a dozen Renaissance ladies were there, as were the Washington Monument & a slice of grapefruit. The costumes ranged from typical drag (dresses, wigs & boas) to the outrageous (hair as high as my torso is long, etcetera).

I stuck around for pictures, & the Latina queen I first approached was more than happy to oblige. Then the Fanta girls passed, chanting, “Fanta’s sweet and oh-so-fizzy, but what you need is something jizzy!” I requested a shot, but only Lemon took notice, screaming for Strawberry, Orange & Grape to return to her so we could take a full group photo. “They love this!” she insisted.


Heyyyy, Miss Lemon: I do, too.
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