My neighborhood

I love my neighborhood. After watching the basketball game (because I feel compelled as a heterosexual man to watch NCAA championship basketball games even though I prefer pro-basketball), I went to a local restaurant to grab some dinner. I ordered some carry out and waited at the counter with a couple of beers. I passed the time by talking to some of the other people working and/or sitting at the bar. I talked to one person for about a half of a beer before I realized something:

I was talking to a drag queen and didn't realize it.

This was a full-on FABULOUS queen, and somehow nothing felt out of the ordinary. In no other neighborhood in St. Louis will a person even see a drag queen, let alone have the opportunity to shoot the shit with one so cavalierly. I was talking to a man in a sequined evening gown, and the situation wasn't out of the ordinary enough for me to even notice it for several minutes.
I really love my neighborhood sometimes.

Congratulations

I was going to post a comment, but I realized that this was far too important for a mere comment because this is a momentous occasion. Congratulations, the Humongous, on acquiring the mythical third voucher. I realize and recognize what a big deal this is.