Of all the peacock headdresses I’ve seen, this is my fave.
Okay, I’ll admit defeat. I got up this morning and jumped on the below red bike and off I sped, camera in tow, to capture the perfect image of “loud”. My plan was to ride parallel to the train tracks by our house and catch the train as it barreled towards me for the perfect photo opportunity.
Didn’t happen. I missed the damn train altogether.
So, I give you New York City! In case you’re unfamiliar, by and large drag queens are loud, y’all. Subtle and demure aren’t adjectives I’d use to describe them. This one, in particular, was quite boisterous. Years ago my BFF and I were in NYC drinking to excess, being wise-asses and behaving badly. In other words, we were just being ourselves. It was quite the trip. In no particular order we may or may not have 1. passed out IN a bar, 2. taken some random drugs given to us by strangers, 3. done those drugs together in a port-o-potty, or 4. passed out in a cab and found ourselves wearing our clothes inside out. Allegedly.
There was also a Yoko Ono sighting that almost got me arrested but alas, this trip became the subject of myth and legend and that’s exactly where we’ll leave it.