👑 I Helped A Drag Queen Zip Up Her Dress

A couple of summers ago, a best friend of mine brought me to an invite-only event at the Met. I don’t remember the name of the event—I’m not even sure if there was one—but I do remember Alan Cumming and his neon pink suit, Taylor Swift’s You Need To Calm Down blasting through the bushes on the rooftop, and lots of chaotic gay energy. It was fuckin' awesome.

At one point, my best friend M and I had to use the restroom. It was a located on a fancy private floor with cream marble walls, a part of the Met I’d never seen before. I remember coming out of the stall and seeing a large figure from behind struggling to zip up their dress. “Excuse me—could you help me with this?”

Her bright red lipstick stood out against her dark wig and black gown. She seemed to be out of breath and in a hurry. M and I got her up and about in seconds.

The drag queen we helped turned out to be one of the performers at the event. Her singing was off-key and bursting with exuberant confidence. I don’t remember the exact speeches she gave, except for the fact that my cheeks hurt from all the laughing, rooting, and for once feeling comfortable in the sexuality that I had kept denying for years.

I also remember the intimidation and excitement from being in a horde of expressive adults who were so different from the ones I was surrounded with growing up, as well as the political satire against big corporations and anti-LGBTQ+ organizations. Oh, and don’t forget the rainbows. The whole party felt like a dream. A dream that would’ve been even better if Coco Peru were there. I would’ve brought her tension tamer tea so she wouldn’t have to drive all the way to Target only to discover that it’s out of stock.

Now, if only I could remember the name of the drag queen I met. It was a really funny name too…