I’ve returned after a heavenly week, all expenses paid, from Porta Bloomers, Texas, for the first international convention of Bilingual Drag Queens for Jesus. Hola-la-la!
I flew first class with 50 lovelies, including Senorita Sinsational, Farmington; Lola Latinate, Royal Oak; Carmencita Dilamente, Ferndale; and Evangelista Connie Maricona, Flat Rock.
BDQ4J is Rev. Connie’s radiant dream come to fruition. “I was filled with the Holy Ghost while performing flamenco at a benefit for retired Catholic drag queens, when I just knew heaven had given me a special lip-synch calling.
“It blessed me like a whirling disco ball! There are Jews for Jesus. Muslims for Jesus. Plural Wives for Jesus. Tea Baggers. Lactovegetarians. Dykes for Jesus. Even psychiatrists. Why in hell shouldn’t there be Drag Queens for Jesus? Bilingual ones at that. Don’t we count?”
(She’s got a point. If other minorities can take a JC stand, why can’t cross dressers? The Big Guy rubbed elbows with tax collectors, prostitutes, sinners, and lately Rebiblicans. Surely drag queens are several notches above those misfits. And bilingual to boot! But, forgive me, I digress.)
The 15-hour flight, non-Las Vegas casino stopover, was fantasy in motion. Time whizzed by watching old Carmen Miranda movies, clacking and clicking castanets, singing romantic flamenco cantantes, sharing huevos rancheros recipes, comparing platform high-heel inches, giving and getting glossolalia. And praying. Mostly when taking off and landing.
Time for una confessione, semi-sordidto, mama mia …
Reluctantly I joined the mile high falling out in the spirit club. It was the thrill of a lifetime. Talk about turbulence! Truly, there’s a first for everything. You haven’t lived ’til you’ve been overcome by the spirit, going at it all tongues, getting a breathtaking rapture. A los pedos!
In spite of the fact it was devilishly hot – 120 in the shade, and my Spanish is limited to a basic gringo vocabulary of intransitive verbs – I had a fantastic time, thanks to the hospitality of Rainbow Airlines flight attendant Chance Las Alamos (who grew up with a gay third cousin, since turned Democrat, of Sarah P, as in pudenda).
Chance, it turns out, is into older gringos. (He said I’d look hot in Poncho Villa chaps and matching leather-trimmed sombrero.) When he found out I was planning to make my convention visit subject of a social work master’s thesis, his long-neglected paternal guidance fixation kicked in.
He hugged often. I tipped generously. Carumba! I love his South of the Borderline hospitality. Muy caliente!
My diary entries are here for sharing. Lunes: Spent most of the day visiting cacti sculptures. Ouch! Martes: Came in second in Taco eating contest (240 tacos!). Miercoles: A bummer! Spent day in bed with the Gringo Gallop. Jueves: “Hotter Than Tequila” parade beads of sweaty fun. Marched with Proud Putos of El Paso.
Viernes: Hung out with cowpokes from Porta Bloomer Bronco Busters. Rode side saddle six times. Sabado: Visited El Aricoris Hotel massage therapist for spinal adjustment. Loved midnight campfire Drag Singsperation. Surprise guests: Los Fregonos S/M Gospel Quartet, and multitalented Mexican Border Crossers for Jesus Belle Ringers.
Domingo: Can say without fear of perdition: the closing Drag Queen Living Rosary (I was third Our Father from the right) and the Stations of the Crossdressers Pageant at John Wayne Football Stadium were a climatic first in the history of Ecumenical Christianity.
I’m humbled to relate BDQ4Js really do know how to lip synch “God Bless America” and that perrenial “skirts up” gospel favorite, “Love Lifted Me.” Hopefully, their recent appearance in Porta Bloomers will hasten the day when same-sex marriage will be legal there.
Chance Las Alamos and I – call me, Sr. Carne de Gallina – Mr. Goose bumps – just might have Rev. Connie perform our wedding. Que cajones!