Life’s a Bombshell Ball!

Last week I found myself at the Life Ball in Vienna, Europe’s biggest HIV/AIDs spectacle of a fundraiser. It was bananas. On the bus-ride to JFK, Azealia Banks‘ choreographer asked if he could stroke my hair. ‘RuPaul’s Drag Race’ Season I dunno winner, Sharon Needles, was the most vocal of the queens. “I snorted an Adderall this morning!” she sassed. I banged my head on the window several times and unsuccessfully begged all surrounding for a Xanax or three. I really shouldn’t have drank that complimentary Red Bull, I thought. I then smelled pot from afar, which was reassuring for what was to come.

Then, the all-you-can-drink party plane! I’m not sure what pills Greg Louganis swallowed, whose reclining seat mistreated my knees, because homeboy somehow slept through a gay porn star chasing a flight attendant with his private parts. Other “highlights” included voguers vogueing (shirtless) in the aisles and Needles kicking and spitting beer against a bathroom door. I at last found a Xanax which resulted in Adam Lambert suggesting I “sit down before you fall.” Thanks babe.

Twas a sight to see post-nap — the sweet 40-something-year old man across from me was now Cleopatra. The drag queens were frenetically beating their faces (gay term for “applying makeup”) as reality TV crews filmed. The porn star put his private parts away. We had landed in Vienna. Down the steps I went and we were suddenly on a red carpet…! Lots of smizeing occurred in a sea of flashing lights. Scandal: Sharon Needles was reportedly sent back to New York City due to a very offensive joke which involved a Hitler mention.

As for Life Ball, it happened at the Vienna’s City Hall, which looked something like a pink Disney palace. Trumpets blared, a violinist descended from the rafters, Bill ClintonHilary Swank and Elton John gave speeches that no one paid attention to. There was a Roberto Cavalli runway show, which featured the drop dead gorgeous Karolína Kurková, and a Vogue Ball judged by a pregnant Fergie and Kelly Osbourne. Bombshell Carmen Electra served up a sizzling performance. Azealia Banks performed “212” clad in her best cat couture. Mewow! I was nearly blinded several times via feather headdresses. Nearing three a.m., nightlife icon Susanne Bartsch took her ta-tas out on stage next to Amanda Lepore, who, duh, did the same. Amanda’s performance was some medicated Marilyn Monroe trans realness — she executed a few slow-paced twirls, champagne in delicate hand, and talk-sang her jams which featured fab lyrics like “My v is expensive!” Galore favorite Nomi Ruiz aka Jessica 6 and her amazing dancers were the true belles of the ball. A super sexy performance complete with Janet Jackson-tinged hair-whips and pelvic thrusts. SO GOOD, SO HOT, SO ICONIC

On the murderous 10:30 a.m. flight home, everyone, even the voguers, slept for nine hours. We landed on the runway, not a red carpet. Drag queens were in sweat pants. Adam Lambert/Carmen Electra/Amanda Lepore/The Misshapes did not remove their massive sunnies. It was super depressing. I then noticed many a side-eye/giggle from the JFK employees as a result of the colorful crew. The majority of us might have felt like death, but at least we were brightening up the employees’ day… or “giving them life,” as the queens say.

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