Monday, July 12, 2010
Provincetown is no stranger to drag queens. They abound here. We were at The Monkey Bar yesterday afternoon when Barbie Q strolls in. The sweat dripping off her brow. The hair askew. We are lined up at the bar -- drinking a creamy, milkshake and liquor concoction called a Mudslide -- when she walks in, the door closing loudly on the warm, humid afternoon behind her. She drags her yards of black dress material onto the bar stool and announces that "I've just had my dress ran over by a guy in a Hummer...he must have a short dick." Of course, we turn our heads. She announces within the next 90 seconds that she's had a hellish day. Lost her boyfriend at 4am that morning and another boyfriend at 5am. Her right fake breast is exposed, twisted and loose since she put it in earlier in the day. I try to help her with the expose'. She remarks, "Oh hell," as she yanks that bad boy out and slaps the titty on the bar....nipple side up. Giggles and laughs ensue as iPhone cameras photograph the evidence. We buy her Jack Daniels and Sprite. She gets her legs up on a second bar stool and pulls up the dress -- "I need to air myself out...it's hot outside today." She tells me to look for her later that day at The Boat Slip Tea Dance. I'll be the guy in the tight jeans. I never did see her again. I looked.