Drag queen race

Yesterday I went to the "Drags on heels" race with a friend. It was not really planned. We just happened to be there and we jokeyed ourselves to the front and watched.
It was amazing. Crowds so thick around the "race track" (about 3 blocks in the city) that we could not walk on the sidewalks. The race is run quickly (about twenty second from start to finish) and then the fun begins. We mingles with the racers: One guy dressed in the famous little black dress and who was absolutely gorgeous. Another one who ran in impossible high heels and a white dress. He is not made up and his face expresses a sadness that cannot be explained by losing the race (no one really cares) or by some foot discomfort. He looks isolated in the crowd. By himself despite the number of people around him. I move away from him as if he was affected by a contagious disease. Then they are the others, the laughing ones dressed as Krispy Kreme or Dairy Queen stores, the leather bikers and the devil, The "Cows for Kerry" and the "Chickens and Eggs", the flight attendants and the Hawaiian dancer. I ask each one of them for the permission to take pictures with them, forcing my French accent. They are gorgeous and I tell them so. A tall guy with a blond wig and enormous breasts tells me behind an heavy layer of make-up "It's just smoke and mirrors, honey, just smoke and mirrors".