Last night I did public service in the form of public drag. I ran the annual 17th Street High Heel Race again, with high hopes of winning. Two years ago I placed 2nd, and hoped to get near the front again. But the year I placed I was wearing a functional cocktail dress, but this year the crinoline in my circa 1988 pink bridesmaid gown got the best of me. I think I tripped on it, and I bit the asphalt hard. Purse and wig went flying, as did the contents of the purse. Now I have to track down Jon's keys, as they were in the purse.

However, as I look back, it was a lot of fun. Plus, people were smiling as we walked up and down the street, and I was happy to help make so many people temporarily forget about terrorist attacks and anthrax threats.

Oh, one odd thing happened while I was looking for Jon's keys. A guy came up to me claiming he met me five years ago in Rehoboth. I thought that was odd, as there would only be a slim chance of him recognizing me as I was still in drag. Plus, I don't think I was at the beach four or five years ago. I also have a face that seems to look like a lot of other people (Type "O" appearance?), so I get this a lot. Yet he engaged me for quite some time, and I realized he was hitting on me...while I was in drag! I was both shocked and flattered, as he was pretty cute. I guess it takes all kinds.