{The Beardsgaards don’t get out too much, but the other people who work here still have lives. These are their stories.}
In the shimmering 95 degree Chicago heat, Lauren and I half expected the glitter blanketing the crowd to burst into flame. Bears were everywhere, but we were armed with stickers and merch aplenty, and we were ready.
This past weekend Lauren and I, the youngest Gaardians of Beardsgaard, cut up some Beardsgaard shirts, fueled up with a ramen side quest at the Furious Spoon, and then threw ourselves into the fray, better know as the Chicago Pride Fest.
Our journey took us from booth to booth, filling our bags of holding to the brim with enough items to last us through the fest, while simultaneously emptying our pockets of Beardsgaard stickers along the way as we met the many walks of life that make up pride. Those being two, as well as four legged ones (see that top photo with those rainbow-bedecked handsome fellas).
We braved the glistening crowed, battling our way up to the main stage to be greeted by lovely lady that shined with the glow of a thousand opals. She was our host for the main event. And my, was she magnificent.
Song after song she brought out the charming ladies of Pride, whom each slayed the stage, time and time again. With their fierce wigs, and snatched makeup, they showed that they were the true Queens of Drag.
Star struck, Lauren and I were lucky enough to grace the presence of the Disco Queen of Pride. And what a Queen she was, with her 39 year reign in the Chicago Drag scene. She proved that disco never died, it was still alive, just prowling in the shadows of Boys Town’s night life.
Our adventure was nearly over as we made our way back through the bustling festival. We stopped every so often refresh our elixirs, and then finally to chat with an electric garden spirit, in their booth of rainbow flowers, before making our way back to our quiet little river town.
A farewell to Pride Fest, but just until our next quest awaits with thee.
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