5 Drunken Interactions I've Had With Famous Drag Queens

Yes. This is real life.

My Business Casual (the sweatshirt says I got an expensive degree and the tighty whities confirm that I'm not doing anything with it)

In the wake of my WRENCHING hangover I have realized that in some of my more glorified (and horrified) drunken stupors that have brought me to the beautiful paved, porcelain, tree lined edenic paradise that is West Hollywood (which when you look up West Hollywood in the dictionary you just see a picture of an anal plug coated in vomit and vodka red bull with a Hollister tank top gently draped off to the side) I have had choice interactions with minor drag celebrities I otherwise look up to (not at all). This is an account of the hazy memories that haunt me and, in the case of this morning, made me realize that NOT publishing them publicly means that I'm a sad person. So here we go.

1. Adore Delano

Yes it was only last night that I made the connection with one of my favorite queens. And of course by connection I mean "Made a horrendous fool of myself." Here's the skinny: I went up to Adore and offered him a cigarette (he was already smoking a cigarette). Upon his refusal, I reacted with a face of shock and terror. Why would he not take a free cigarette, MY CIGARETTE? Studies later revealed (and by studies I mean my leaving a haze into the harsh, unrelenting light of jobless day) that, in fact, I did not have any cigarettes with me. Interestingly, therefore, there WAS no cigarette in my hand, despite my stubborn insistence meaning that I walked up to Adore Delano, wagged my finger in the air and gently gurgled offers for things that clearly didn't exist. A triumph for this recent grad.

2. Sonique

I went to the "Dreamgirls Revue" the other week, where a marvelous queen who I know to be sober performed a fantastic number. I wanted to find her after the show but since it was a drag show I was PLASTERED (naturally) and the queen (who's name I unfortunately know not) wasn't at the meet and greet! THE AUDACITY. So I went up to Sonique, who asked "Do you want a picture with me." Affronted by the idea of wasting even a millisecond of my life engaged in an activity with NOT the person I was looking for, I replied "Absolutely not. I'm looking for the sober queen." Sonique, (rightfully) confused, said "I'm sober." As if repeating myself for clarity, I said (in what could be described as a moderate bellow) "NO, NOT YOU. I DON'T WANT YOU, I'M LOOKING FOR THE SOBER QUEEN." "You're not sober." (said Sonique, pointing out the obvious for reasons that still evade me) "It's a drag show, what kind of person do you think I am??" I said and flounced away. One of my prouder moments. Making real, long-lasting connections.

3. Laganja Estranja

I would feel really horrid if I didn't begin this one with an enormous disclaimer: I'm pretty sure but am not in ANY way positive this interaction was with the actual Laganja Estranja. Past a certain point in the evening all twinks start to look and sound the same to me (i.e. they may as well be butts with well coiffed hair and questionable though form-fitting fashions) but he was out of drag, hanging with Drag Race people at Micky's and he had annoyingly spray-dyed blue hair which is pretty characteristic of Laganja. HOWEVER if it wasn't you, Laganja, and you're reading this a. I'm sorry and b. I don't care because if you're reading this I'm probably like pretty famous and have over 1000 instagram followers.

I recognized (?) Laganja while out and about (as if grocery shopping but instead of tomatoes I bought mandarin 7-ups which I ate like candy and they taste like candy so I can never have them again because they probably destroyed my internal organs which are now withered sugar crystals gently pumping blood) and promptly sat myself down across from him. We had brief small talk (I stared intently into his face as he uncomfortably sipped the mandarin 7-up I slammed on the table for him) and his posse gaggled about, snapping instagrams and sashaying like the little unicorn fairies I now in my stupor literally saw them as (there was a definite ten-minute period where I stared at the lights on the bar sign and saw the entire pink elephant sequence from Dumbo play out before me. Or it might have been actual people. It was West Hollywood. Anything gay is possible) Anywho he was wearing some light make up (and by light I mean harsh contour, dark lips and purple wing-tipped eyes which for Mickys is like wearing a pair of sneakers to the Met Ball) and I inquired (pointedly) as to whether or not he was a drag queen. He looked at me funny and across that ferret-like face sprawled the dumbest smile. "No!" *looks coyly at his posse, who all cover their mouths in shock* After holding his face in this truly idiotic way for what felt like 455646 eternities everyone (sans me) burst into maniacal laughter as if I had just asked Julia Child if she knew what a France was. Needless to say he gave me his (her? I don't care) number and the text exchange was, again needless to say, magnificent. What was I thinking? Del Taco and Vomit probably at that point. I've thrown the screenshot down below (and yes, I saved his number as "Laganja" because I have the memory of the tylenol pill I'm shoveling into my face at this very moment)

My text message exchange:

#Fashionbottom did not receive the response I felt it deserved. (a job at Comedy Central and several TV spots and a sponsorship from at least Pedigree)

4. Raven

We made out. He was wearing lip gloss and smoked parliaments and looked bored when I told him my name (the most important moment of my young life) That was sort of it actually but the make out sesh was followed by an intense eye contact lip synch of "What Makes You Beautiful" by One Direction. (I might have been the only one lip-synching/there but who can really say?)

Also we exchanged numbers and I was going to visit him in Riverside but then phones ran out of battery after I had taken the last train out to the Inland Empire and I ended up sitting in a Coco's diner sipping on a Bud Light with a tiny overnight bag that was a Scooby-Doo lunchbox until my friend Cait came and rescued me. But that's not important or interesting...(continues to listen to "Someone Like You" and cry softly)

5. Willam

I have to say I think it's extraordinarily unfair that famous Drag Queens are allowed to be sober in their performance venues which are big bright dance bars with fog and 5 dollar well drinks. JUST SAYING.

I am a big fan of Willam-I think she's the funniest person every born (after all those other funny people I cannot remember at the moment but w/e nbd). Naturally, therefore, when I saw her standing alone I grasped my chance like I was Faye in Mommie Dearest squeezing the life out of the wooden mannequin that played Christina. We have a mutual friend (sort of--my friend from high school is her cousin). I meant to say "I know someone who is related to you!" But instead said (ego inflated by the massive courage I had summoned up to approach her in the first place) "WE'RE RELATED!!!!!" "I don't think that's true," she said, glancing nervously at the nearest bouncer (a gentleman who had recently informed me that all my dancing had to take place "not on the floor" which I found to be grossly unfair and an oppression of my artistic prowess) I corrected myself and mispronounced her last name ("Belli") but in my defense I didn't want to assume that it was pronounced "Belly." I took a chance. There's nothing wrong with making choices. After this series of what I would later consider "mistakes" but in the moment approved internally as "incredible networking achievements," I sloppily bought her a drink (attempted to hand her the drink I had recently purchased for myself). She said she would take it to Raja (righteously dump into the sink for fear of roofies which is ok because earlier in the evening I had attempted to tip Raja, for lack of dollar bills, with my credit card as if she had a little paypal swipe attached to her flapper wig)

6. (BONUS!!!) Vicky Vox

This didn't happen to me. It happened to my dear friend Mary. It does, however, make me feel slightly less pathetic knowing that IT CAN HAPPEN TO ANYONE. Mary went up to Vicky Vox (who was not in drag) innocently hanging out on the club patio smoking a probably well-deserved cigarette. Mary is a big Vox fan and we playfully referred to her as the Vicky Vox of our friend group back in college. Unfortunately for our noble heroine Mary, this pet name became jumbled in the Mandarin 7-up torrent that had replaced what is normally a high functioning, incredibly keen mind and she, upon meeting dear Vicky said, "I'm your doppleganger--I have two friends back at school who say I'm like you--I AM YOU." It's hard to say what Vicky Vox said (mostly it was silence and a furrowed brow) but I think she appreciated the sentiment. Anyway, who am I to judge? I was over by Detox, saying "you are the artistic inspiration for everything I've ever done." But Detox, like a GOOD DRAG QUEEN was shitfaced and blazed out of her beautiful (and probably somewhat empty) mind.

EPILOGUE

YOU DO YOU. (But don't use your real name and never under any circumstances bring your business card to a drag show)