a literal boat load of drag queens (Fire Island's 4th of July Invasion of the Drag Queens)

I’d never been to the Fire Island Invasion of the Drag Queens because there was always a family cook out, but this year, I ditched the family and trekked out for the 4th of July festivities.

I was supposed to be meeting up with the Ivy League Crew et al at Penn Station, but by the time I went across the street for a breakfast sandwich, the train was already on the platform. I ended up running into ASFKAB and his glamorous fruit fly first, so I sat with them for the ride out.

The train was full of shameless homosexual activity! First, as the tall, handsome, black conductor walked up the aisle to punch everyone's tickets, an older white guy leaned all the way into the aisle to watch him walk. Then some 130-lb twink in a see-through American Apparel tank top popped open a box of Muscle Milk at like 11:30 am. Really, girl?

To get out there, we had to take two Long Island Railroad trains, a mini-bus, and a ferry. Total cost (with the LIRR package deal): $30. I caught up with Bottomless Pitt, Urban Sprawl, Arm'n'Hammer and Bronx Newbie on the mini-bus, and the line for the ferry was crazy! We squeezed our way onto the upper deck of the ferry where took the opportunity to break out my “juice” with “extra pulp” (the first sip of which made Bronx Newbie cough with his eyes bugged out). By the time the 5 of us got to the Pines, the first Gatorade bottle was empty.

Everyone was lined up waiting for the arrival of the drag queens. I’d been invited to Bologna’s house with the Long Island Gays, but I’d forgotten to ask what their address was. Eventually, they came prancing through the crowd gathered on the dock and informed us that it was the same house as the year before.

The drag queens came in on a water taxi around 2. Picture a literal boat load of drag queens, many in coordinated costumes, pulling into a harbor of cheering, shirtless gays. I figured it’d be sort of like a parade of drag, but it turns out that they announce each individual drag queen or group. There’s a contest (for which the Architect was a judge) with prizes like “Best Group” and “Best Individual” and hilarious prizes like “Most Tragic” and “Best Attempt.” My favorite won the latter with her Venetian-blinds top.

With all the announcing, it took forever to go through everyone. Most of the boys were over it halfway through and took a seat to the side. For whatever reason, they were determined to go to the beach first, so I told them to meet me at the house later.

When I got out to the house, Bologna wasn’t back yet, but Dirty Sanchez was a drunken mess, prancing around in a speedo and clear platform heels.

Eventually, more of the Long Island Gays came home. I think I might have been the only one not to take a turn with the stripper heels or the 3" Messica Simpson booties.

At one point, we were up on the roof deck, and Dirty Sanchez was lying on the railing like a 50s cover girl. Just as someone was saying, "Maybe that's not such a good idea," I saw her flinch, scream, and disappear over the railing! We all gasped, forgetting about the foot and a half of roof that extended beyond said railing, which is exactly where she landed. She blushed and (still in the heels) clicked her way back down to the second floor.

Did I mention I got no sleep that night (but you're have to wait til next post to find out what [or who] kept me up)? Yeah.

Click here to check out more photos of the Invasion drag queens on Facebook.

Click here to check out when my cousin brought his Japanese girlfriend Sin home to my very Christian aunt's house for 4th of July last year.

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