Patrick Redmond | Huffington Post

The revelation occurred this past weekend after a morning text message from my best friend Marsha in Tennessee. Her elementary-age boys play little-league baseball. I never did. I was a boy who didn’t like sports.

Marsha: “Morning, doll. Sitting at first All Star B-ball Tourney of the summer. Yes, I do think I’ll drag you to at least one of these games when you visit. Definitely a little perspective for you. HA HA HA HA. I soooo do not fit in with these moms. Geesh.”

Me: “If YOU drag me to one of those sports-ball games it’ll be with a cooler full of beer and me dialing up the “You go, girl!” factor. Consider yourself warned.”

Marsha: “Oh, yes, yes, yes. You can endure one. We’ll sneak in some vodka. Gurl, you’ll be fine.”

Me: “I’m serious. I’ll wear cha-cha heels and a sundress! You better think long and hard about it.”

Marsha: “You need a two-hour stent of what I endure on the weekends.”

Me: “NO. I. DON’T.”

Marsha: “HA HA HA HA HA. But it’s such an easy button to push with you. Giggling thinking about it. Especially you in cha-cha heels!”

Me in cha-cha heels, I thought.

Marsha knows I love drag queens. I mean they entertain me. She loves them too. I introduced her to her first. Together we’ve attended shows in many cities throughout the Midwest and south Florida. I’ve often wondered, Why my fascination? When did it begin?And that morning it hit me: My fascination began in 1977, when I removed the Charlie’s Angels posters from my bedroom walls and joined the KISS Army.

My first KISS album was KISS Alive!, and I was hooked. I wanted to be Peter Criss. One Halloween I bought a box of KISS makeup at a local Main Street gift shop and painted up. That Christmas my parents gave me a set of drums purchased from J.C. Penney’s catalogue. My fascination with the drums didn’t last, but KISS had captivated me.

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