Prom Queen Diaries

One of the trickiest challenges on my list was how to be prom queen. Considering that I’m not American, not in high school and I’m 28, my only option was to date someone ten years younger or storm a prom and overthrow the promarchy.

Both options would’ve raised eyebrows and carry a penalty in most states. And although revolution would be based on some my constitutional right to look good in a tiara, I realised that I didn’t have time too add “regime change” to my list.

That alternative came from a lovely couple in a Thai restaurant who suggested that Gay Pride would be the perfect place to be a queen. And I met my queen-maker, Lou, just as randomly at a baseball game. She happened to be sitting next to me, she happened to see my list, her mother happened to be called Iris and she happened to be on the Gay Pride Board of Directors. These random encounters shouldn’t be a surprise to you my now. They happen all the time.

So Lou waved her wand and made my dreams come true. I was prom queen, riding high on the pinnacle of Americana and a float of the Golden Gate Bridge. My dress was so big you can see it through the Hubble telescope. Tests show that it can house a small family. in fact, if you look at the photos, it’s bigger than planet earth.

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