LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
High CAMP |
by Brent Mundt |
Four Less Years! Four Less Years! Reflections on a Fiftieth Birthday
When one turns 54 and one was born in '54, something fabulous is supposed to happenbut instead of lamenting the fact that I'm fifty plus four I'd rather hearken back to that day four years ago when I was a blushing 50-year-old Queen for a Day and something cosmically and jaw droppingly fabulous actually did happen to me. Because of my Rehoboth Beach familya/k/a The Dover Street Society(pictured at right) I had the experience of a lifetime. If I live to be a hundred, I'll still never repay them. My fiftieth birthday wish was voiced when I was a mere 47 years of age. Exiting the movie Priscilla Queen of the Desert, I mentioned in passing, "All I want for my 50th is to ride on that bus in full drag in a stiletto heel!" Who can forget that scene with the star in full drag in the stiletto as the bus, Priscilla, roared through the Australian outback. At the time, I thought, "the impossible dream." Perhaps I'd get dinner at Outback Steakhouse. Little did I know that they were thinking, "We have three years to find a 5' tall stiletto shoe and a bus." And not to ruin the endthat's exactly what they did, so what unfolds from here is a surprise unlike any other in my life. A month out I was told to be sure I had full dragand totally unsuspectingI began asking around who else was going to party with me in a proper party frock. The answers were evasive but I soldiered on, giving couturier "Scott Spahr of Rehoboth Beach" a Vogue pattern and five yards of hot pink silkthen making my hair, nails and makeup appointment at Bad Hair Day?my entire outfit was assembled within two blocks of downtown Rehoboth. I was going to be one homegrown tomato! It turns out I was a rather overstuffed hot pink inebriated tomato riding on a stiletto, but that comes later. I provided Scott Spahr a size 16 pattern and well, let's just say I'd had a Shelly Winters summerpizza, potato salad, and pina coladas. We discovered this bind three hours before showtime. He quickly sewed in a panel but I still looked like 100 lbs of potatoes in a 50 lb sackso to quote Don Rumsfeld, a drag queen goes to her party in the dress she has, not the dress she wishes she had. I still had three hours of hair, nails and makeupso immediately went on the all merlot diet. The weight was melting off of me as we applied jungle red acrylic nailsgallons of foundation and wandsfull of mascara! Tornados were swirling outside and the three hours inside turned into four plus. Every now and then they'd call from Dover St. and I'd look up over my glass of wine and say, "It's out of my controlmy people are scurrying about as fast as they can." Long about my third glass of merlot, I realized I wouldn't have time to shave my legs, so as Darlene applied pancake, Joe got out the clippers and began shaving my legs. It was a multi-tasking miracle and I twirled out of the chair faster than the funnel clouds over Lake Gerar. The skies parted about the same time as my unruly wig and when we turned onto Dover Street all I could see was Mylar and bubblesas if Lawrence Welk had blown up on the front lawn. Inside there were champagne fountainsexquisite floral arrangements and a spread of food Martha Stewart would envyplus a six layered pink cake decorated top to bottom with delicate little porcelain high heels. Given my day of beauty and booze, I was seeing each and every thing double. So I loved my friends twice as muchand then, the big whammya Toyota Tacoma draped in Mylar and carrying in the back, my throne: the famed Stiletto. (For those keeping track of how a surprised 50-year-old drag queen can support the local economy, the Stiletto was from Abizak'swhen it was still here in RBand the cake from Pasqualini's.) Priscilla was born. I was shocked. The "parade" though downtown was a blur. The return included cake, champagne, and presents galore. But the surprise of surprises was the shoethe Priscilla standard exceeded by a mile. We kicked Priscilla's Aussie ass. I write today from Dover Street. The stiletto is in the basement and the bubbles we blew have hopefully reached Australia. In four short years, we've wonand lostlocal elections. Lost a house to fire. Lovers left and new ones arrived. Some beloved pets have departed usLucy the lovely redhead feline. Dermott, the sweetest dog who ever roamed the earth, will forever walk the beach between here and Dewey in our hearts. Crash, Buster, Bear, Bella, and Roxie have come into our lives. For me, I leave my family these words by Sondheim, adapted from "In Buddy's Eyes"In Dover's eyes, I'm young, I'm beautiful In Dover's eyes, I can't get older I'm still the princess. Still the prize. In Dover's eyes And all I'd ever dreamed I'd be The best I ever thought of me Is every minute there to see In Dover's eyes. Brent Mundt makes a living in Washington and a life in Rehoboth Beach. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 18, No. 13 September 12, 2008 |