We have reached that very specific part of summer at the Delaware beaches when everybody starts acting a little … off. June was adorable. The tourists arrived, the restaurants filled up, the locals said things like, “It’s so nice seeing everybody again!” and I willingly put on four pairs of tights and a wig in 90-degree weather. We were so young.
It’s August now. The tourists are crispy. The locals are tired. Route 1 is Route 1-ing. Nobody knows where their other flip-flop is. My wig has absorbed enough humidity to qualify as waterfront property, and apparently THE JELLYFISH HAVE ARRIVED.
First of all, SpongeBob has some explaining to do. That little yellow liar made jellyfishing look delightful. Grab a net! Bring Patrick! Frolic through Jellyfish Fields! Meanwhile, in Delaware, somebody walks out of the Atlantic saying, “I just got stung,” and the rest of us are somehow STILL walking in. What are we doing? If somebody ran out of a restaurant yelling, “Something in there just attacked me!” I would simply eat elsewhere. But we paid for parking, dragged six chairs and a wagon across 400-degree sand and put sunscreen on places we haven’t personally seen since 2019. WE ARE GETTING IN THAT OCEAN.
The jellyfish aren’t even trying to hide. Rehoboth has a purple flag for marine pests, which is perfect. Of course it’s purple. Even the ocean is doing drag now. Honestly, I’m jealous of the jellyfish. They rolled into Rehoboth practically naked, caused a scene, got everybody talking and secured a summer residency without sending one booking email. Teach me.
Meanwhile, the rest of coastal Delaware is crawling toward Labor Day. Locals have started saying “after Labor Day” like it’s a medical treatment. Dinner downtown? After Labor Day. Shopping? After Labor Day. Rehoboth on a Saturday? Don’t be ridiculous. See you in September. Even my drag has entered survival mode. In June, if a rhinestone fell off, I replaced it. In August, I stand 10 feet from the mirror. Can I see the missing rhinestone? No? She’s couture.
And here’s where I apparently differ from a sensible person. After a summer of shows, Pride, wigs, lashes, humidity and running around Delmarva dressed as everything from Miss Frizzle to an ogre, you’d think I’d be looking forward to a quiet fall. Absolutely not. Apparently my response to surviving summer is: What if we went bigger?
So, on Oct. 4, I’m trying to get my weird little Delaware butt to PHILLY.
I entered the BUTTTOOTKING opener competition for the chance to open for Lydia B Kollins, Kori King and Suzie Toot. The problem? I need votes. A lot of them. So yes, I’m shamelessly using this column to ask for one. I never promised journalistic integrity. I wear foam hips for a living.
Go to butttootking.com/opener-1 and look for Kadet Kelly. Vote, send it to the group chat and tell anyone who will listen.
Summer is almost over. Soon the traffic will calm down, the beaches will clear out and the jellyfish will hopefully pack their tiny invisible bags.
Naturally, I’ll be trying to leave Delaware and cause problems in Pennsylvania.
The jellyfish took the ocean. Kadet’s coming for Philly.
See you Out & About!
