Whoever invented air conditioning deserves their own national holiday. I’ll sign the petition. I’ll host the fundraiser. I’ll even perform at the gala … as long as it’s indoors.
Summer at the Delaware beaches is a fascinating social experiment.
Thousands of people voluntarily leave perfectly air-conditioned homes to sit in traffic for an hour just to spend another hour looking for parking so they can stand in yet another line for fries. We complain the entire time … then post, “Best day ever!” before we’ve even left the parking lot.
We’re all a little unwell.
As the area’s least-qualified meteorologist and most-qualified drag queen in synthetic hair, I’ve put together a few survival tips.
If someone says, “Let’s grab a table outside,” politely ask what you did to deserve this punishment.
Hydrate. If your beverage glows in the dark or comes with a souvenir cup the size of a toddler, that’s entertainment, not hydration.
Wear sunscreen. Looking “golden” is cute. Looking like a boiled lobster that lost a fight with the sun is considerably less glamorous.
And if you see a drag performer smiling while wearing six pounds of hair, enough makeup to survive a Category 5 hurricane, a corset tighter than vacation traffic on Route 1, and tights that have cut off circulation since noon … just know she’s smiling because crying would ruin the eyeliner.
Every summer we act surprised.
“It’s hot.”
“It’s crowded.”
“The Boardwalk is packed.”
Yes. That’s literally the brochure.
And yet, we keep coming back.
Maybe it’s because summer here has a weird kind of magic. It’s sticky, loud, sunburned, over-caffeinated, and held together with boardwalk fries and blind optimism.
Which is exactly why one of my favorite weeks of the year is almost here.
July 15-19 is Rehoboth Beach Pride, when our little beach town transforms into one giant celebration. The streets fill with music, drag, families, visitors, allies, rainbow everything, and at least 17 people who somehow look flawless despite the forecast actively trying to ruin their lives.
Meanwhile, you’ll find me slowly becoming soup.
By the last day of Rehoboth Beach Pride, my wig will have its own weather system, my tights will be making medical history, and my makeup will be hanging on with the determination of a tourist refusing to give up a Boardwalk parking spot.
That’s part of the fun.
Because Pride has never been about looking perfect. It’s about showing up. Sweating together. Laughing together. Celebrating together. And reminding people that joy is worth a little discomfort … even if that discomfort is 96 degrees with enough humidity to steam dumplings.
Until next time, if you see me melting into the sidewalk, don’t panic.
Just peel me up, point me toward the nearest air conditioner, and tell everyone it was performance art.
