Garage days

It has been a long time since I last let you know about something stupid I have done. Left nude at the naked beach, trapped in an elevator or even going to paintball are all situations I’ve found myself in and something always goes wrong. My latest mishap wasn’t really my fault, but isn’t that always the way?

Due to all the rain we have been experiencing here in Sydney over the last couple of days, Vanity and I decided to clean out our drag room (the double garage out the back) and sort through all that had gotten wet. This seemingly easy task became an all-day job. After the mopping, sweeping and constant yells of in the bin it goes, I had to get ready for a full night’s work.

When I finished running around from venue to venue, I decided to settle down for a lazy bevvie or six. I’m not sure whether it was because I hadn’t eaten dinner, or the big clean-up, or I had drunk to excess but I soon found myself dancing up a storm till the wee hours of the morning. Before I knew it I was staggering home with boy in tow trying to beat another downpour. Though I was absolutely exhausted with feet full of bunions, I quickly tucked the boy under the covers -“ or, at least, rolled him onto the bed after he passed out (a great lot of use they are when they pass out).

Then I decided to go check the garage for any more leaks. In my PJs and slippers I braved the pissing down rain to make it to the outside drag emporium. The next part happened so quickly it was a little surreal. I had only gone two steps in the door when a huge gust of wind and rain slammed the door behind me, locking me in the garage. Standing there stunned for what seemed minutes, I started my bashing and screaming, which went on for about 30 minutes before the cold and dripping started to wear me down. Still under the influence but knowing I might be stuck for a long while, I conceived a plan. With a room full of drag, I fashioned a nest-like structure in the only dry corner and stuck the brightest rainbow dress Vanity owned under the door.

I am not sure how long I was asleep but I woke to Vanity’s hoots of delight, screaming, What are you doing, you maniac? I was soon snuggling in bed next to the boy, who was snoring like a train, oblivious of anything that had happened. I’d spent six hours under a tonne of drag coats in a garage in the pouring rain. Moral of the story: fuck the dresses -“ even a passed-out boy beats a garage full of wet frocks.