Mr. White Castle curtsies awkwardly behind the counter.

I smile and turn on my Office magenta velvet heel, taking up residence in a booth with Her Royal Highness, Princess Wanda Of Van Buren.  We wait expectantly on our feast to arrive.

People stare. It’s not everyday you see royalty in a fast food establishment in Brooklyn. I give them the royal wave. Minutes pass. My hand gets tired.

“Original Sliders Combo with cheese.

Original Sliders Combo with cheese?

ORIGINAL SLIDERS COMBO WITH CHEESE.” Mr. White Castle glares at me.

“That would be me fine Sir.” (As you well know)

He leaves it on the counter and turns on his heel.

I’m not sure what to do.  Does he expect a Queen to pick it up herself??

I look at Sherpa.  My loyal subject.  He takes the cue and carries the tray over to the booth.

Princess Wanda and I get stuck in.  

Crinkle fries. Coke. Ketchup. Crowns.


White Castle begins to fill up.  Word of the royal visit has spread.  There is much pointing and laughing. And frenzied photo-taking. People can get overexcited when they find themselves in the presence of royalty rather unexpectedly.

“Hey K-ween! How’s that burger going down?” (followed by explosive laughter)

“Why just tremendously!  Thank you for asking!”

The glances and sniggering continue Princess Wanda’s anxiety gets the better of her (she’s waiting on a Xanax refill). Too many people. Too much attention. We make a dash for the outside. And breathe.

It’s better out here.

A Queen needs a throne from which to rule (and eat her combo meal).  

We eat and drink our fill with a birdseye view of the carpark and the M train from the dizzying heights of the bin. Savoring every bite. Wanda gets vertigo and needs to sit on the kerb.  

(I think she might be hypochondriacal but that’s a story for another day)


I count my lucky stars the combo went through on my card coz I’ve just paid rent.  

There were prayers to Saint Matthew (The Patron Saint of Money) before we went in, but it could also be down to the vibes of the money cat flat out waving good fortune my way from atop my mantelpiece. Whatever greater power is responsible, thank you!


Combo meal polished off, I parade the grounds of my newfound kingdom (carpark) to burn off some calories. (Princess Wanda takes a cab home. Heartburn. Seriously.)

My Jaded London rainbow sequin catsuit glistens in the sunshine as my faux fur Cruella de Vil inspired animal print coat from Brandhunter Brooklyn billows behind.  

I pass and ponder signs of optimism.

“Anything. Anytime.”

“Open 24/7.”

Yes White Castle!  Yes New York!  

“Are you Baddie Winkle?”

A holler from across the street.


“Not yet!” I reply.  But I’ll take it.  Sherpa laughs (yes he’s still here).

Dressed like a Queen, I feel like nothing less.  

There’s nothing I can’t do.  

People may laugh.  But I simply don’t care.

Am I having more fun than they are?  Most definitely.

I savor this moment of contentment (they’re hard to find in this city) and round up my loyal subjects (em, okay subject, now that Wanda’s legged it) and return to the Kingdom of Bushwick for an afternoon of plan-hatching.

I may be broke. I may have a battery operated dog. But this excursion has been positively encouraging. 

World domination is nigh.

Thank you White Castle!


GLOSSARY OF TERMS (in order of appearance)

Sherpa - friend / helper of friends in need / explorer / human trip advisor / life coach / photographer / performer

Bin - Irish English for ‘trash can’ or ‘garbage can’

Legged it - Irish English for ‘ran away’ or ‘fecked off’, ‘absconded’ (in this context, plain and simple ‘left’)


Sequin Halter Catsuit: Jaded London / Pink Velvet Ankle Boots: Office / Animal Print Faux Fur Coat: Brandhunter, Brooklyn / Giant Pill Earrings & ‘Diamond’ Ring : ISLYNYC / Lips Glasses: A thrift find from Austin, Texas