Just a couple of weeks ago I was in Indianapolis covering a service contract of ours with a customer in the region. Normally we have a dedicated engineer for this customer, but he wanted to take a vacation and so they mailed me in to fill in while he was out. Well, as luck would have it (bad luck for him, good luck for me) shortly after he got back from his vacation he had some sort of crisis with his family and had to turn right back around and leave again, and so here I am back in Indy.
You know, for many years I’ve avoided wearing dresses, feeling that they were not flattering on me. Lately though, I’ve been rethinking this and giving them another go, and to be honest, I’m having a ball. I just bought this dress on sale from JC Penny through the internet and adore it! It fits well, and the white tabs on the sides sort of help give the illusion of a waist AND JC Penny’s was practically giving it away for something like $30! It was a win-win the whole way around.
When I checked in at the Delta counter for my flight, I was helped by the very same gentleman who had helped me the last time, and we had a very similar conversation.
“Hey! Nice to see you with us again! So they aren’t making you take US Scareways anymore huh?” he said with a smile, poking fun at his competition.
“From time to time they still are. Believe me, if I had my way, I’d fly Delta all of the time.” I told him.
“Yeah, that’s what you were saying the last time we talked.” He said with a compassionate tone of voice.
“Well, I’m also Silver on their program, but I never get upgrades from them. You guys have me in first class almost every time I fly.”
“No kidding? I wonder why they don’t upgrade you?”
“I think most of the time they actually don’t even have first class sections, but my last flight with them they had three empty first class seats and still didn’t upgrade me.” I told him with a bit of a pout.
“Well then, we’ll have to make sure that we do better than that!” he said, and he did, because I flew first class the whole way!
I’ve sort of made it my mission to try and chat with the TSA folks at least a little bit while going through the lines and process. I’m not sure why, I guess I just sort of want them to see me as a person and not just as a cross dresser.
“Good morning! How are you doing this morning?” I asked the female TSA inspector who took my ID and tickets. She looked up at me and smiled.
“I’m just fine thanks! How are you?” She replied
“Oh, I couldn’t be a hell of a lot gooder, but I guess I would rather be home and still in bed!” I replied and we both laughed.
As I was placing my stuff on the x-ray belt, a flight attendant walked up behind me. Flight crew can walk right to the front of the line, and often do, but she got behind me. I sort of waved her forward, letting her know it was fine if she wanted to get in front of me.
“Oh no! Thank you, but I’m in no hurry!” she told me.
We were both standing there bored, and waiting for the woman in front of us to get her act together and out of the way, so I looked at her again.
“You know, sometimes I feel like I spend as much time on these things as you flight attendants do.” I told her with a grin.
“Oh I dunno, I pretty much live in the airports and airplanes.” She replied, and we both went back to waiting for the woman in front of us. By now she had set off the metal detector twice and been sent back yet again to take off more jewelry. I looked at the flight attendant behind me, nodded toward the woman that had now held us all up for five minutes, and rolled my eyes. She laughed, and then caught me off guard with a comment.
“Do you ever get tired of smelling dirty feet?” She asked. I was absolutely clueless and had no idea what she meant, and it must have shown on my face, because she pointed at all of the shoes on the X-ray conveyor belt. Until that very moment, the thought had never struck me, and as soon as she planted the thought in my head, I’d swear that I did indeed smell dirty feet. I couldn’t help myself, I busted out laughing.
“You are a mean and evil person!” I told her when I had stopped laughing enough so that I could speak. “That thought had never entered my mind until you said that, and now every damned time I fly, that’s all I’m going to think about when I’m going through this line!”
At last it was my turn to go through the metal detector, and the TSA inspector waived me forward.
“Well! It looks like you made it!” he said with a grin as I passed through with out setting it off.
“Yeah, you would almost think that I had done this before huh?” I asked him with a grin and was greeted by his laughter. Pretty much, this was the last thing to go according to plan all day . . .
You know I flew for years without a single delayed or canceled flight, but these days it seems to be a rare trip indeed where there isn’t some sort of delay. Well that turned out to be the case for my connecting flight from ....Atlanta.... to Indy – it was delayed by an hour. At long last, they start the boarding process. As those of us in the first class section are boarding, they are making their apologies and are telling us that they can’t serve drinks during the boarding process because the aircraft hasn’t been catered yet. This turned out to be a foretelling of things to come, because once the plane was fully loaded, we still sat there. . . and sat there . . . and sat there . . . After 20 minutes the aircraft catering service guy explodes on to the plane, and with lots of frantic activity, swaps out carts and supplies, and in about five minutes he is gone like the wind. As soon as the catering door is closed and he has pulled away, the flight attendant inspects things and starts to grumble. I’m in the first row of seats so I can hear her explaining to the captain that they have not supplied them correctly – there are NO sodas, and NO juice. Apparently airplanes can’t fly if those on board don’t have soda and juice, because we sat on that damned plane another 20 minutes waiting for that guy to come back again and do his job right. Soon people are complaining and joking about the situation. The guy across the isle from me is a real comedian and he leans over and taps me on the shoulder.
“If they will just get this plane in the air, I’ll donate my bottle of water to anyone that needs a drink. What do ya think?” he says with a huge grin, while holding up the small bottle of water they always leave in the first class seats.
“I’m with ya’! Besides, this is only like an hour long flight. If they had just gone, we would have been there by about now!” I replied. About this point, 40 minutes after the flight was loaded, there is another catering guy on board and he and the flight attendant are arguing. I can’t hear the conversation, but this cute flight attendant is clearly PISSED. While they are arguing, the comedian across from me looks around the first class section and starts trying to instigate a riot.
“This is the STUPIDEST reason for a delay I have ever seen! I’ve been doing this for over 20 years and I’ve NEVER been delayed for ‘sodas and juice’!” he says with a grin, though he clearly really is agitated.
Soon the catering guy is throwing little bins of sodas on the galley floor, and as he turns to run after another load, I hear the flight attendant gasp in frustration.
“Those are the wrong bins! They are for a different type of aircraft and wont FIT here!” She almost yells at the catering guy and the captain.
“These are for a ..!” She tells the Captain, raising her hands in defeat and frustration. Finally someone got the bright idea to take the drinks OUT of the bins and just stack them in the carts. One of the Atlanta Delta reps is now standing on the plane, looking apologetic, and clearly trying to see what he can do to help get this flight moving, when the flight attendant had clearly had enough. The flight attendant talks to him, consults with the captain, then comes back to him.
“No, we are aren’t waiting for anything else. Get that man off my plane, we are pushing back NOW.” She said while pointing at the caterer.
Two hours late, my flight at long last takes to the skies, and first class is getting comfortable with an assortment of alcoholic beverages being served all around, and everyone joking about the delay the entire way.
The comedian across the isle from me is apparently a bit of a ladies man. He spent the entire hour and twenty minute flight with the flight attendant kneeling by his seat and him chatting her up. I deeply envy them both. She is young, skinny, and beautiful, with long blond hair in a glorious pile on top of her head. He is not young, but he is clearly comfortable and capable when it comes to talking to beautiful women. I can hear that much of the conversation revolves around wine, and that is convenient as she is bringing him bottle after bottle of it. Later in the flight, after a few too many of those little wine bottles, I hear him tell her with a slight slur to his speech, that he would be delighted to send her a bottle if she would tell him where to send it to. I wonder if this is an honest gesture between two people who had spent an hour talking about wines, or if it was a thinly veiled excuse to try and get her number?
As the plane is landing, I see the lady in the seat next to me getting clearly nervous. She is gripping the armrest so hard that her knuckles are turning white, and as the plane approaches the runway, I can hear her talking softly while staring out the window.
“He’s going too fast, too fast, too fast . . . “ she says under her breath, probably not realizing that I can hear her at all.
“You know,” I said, trying to distract her a little “landing is the one part about flying that makes me nervous too! All the rest of it I’m fine with, but landing gets my heart racing a little.”
“Yeah, well, a couple of flights ago, they landed fast like this and skidded the damned plane on the runway!” she told me, clearly not in the least comforted by my speaking to her.
“Well, I can see how that might tend to make you a little nervous!” I told her with a laugh as the wheels hit the ground with a distinct “thump”.
As the plane approaches our gate, you can hear most of the first class section laughing and cutting up about the silliness of being delayed waiting for sodas. You can tell that most of them have had a drink or two, because they are really letting loose and cutting up. You should have seen the looks on their faces when the plane stopped just short of the gate and the captain comes over the intercom, clearly disgusted with the way this flight has gone.
“Uh folks, it looks like they don’t have a crew ready to guide us in, so we are going to have to wait here for a few minutes. I’m sure they will be here momentarily, so please remain seated and we’ll get you in just as soon as we can.” He says. Now the conversation on the entire airplane goes into over drive, with lots of angry voices mixed in with lots of laughter and joking. I’m kind of with the folks that were laughing, because what is the point to getting excited about it? There is nothing you can do to influence things, so you might as well just relax.
The comedian across the isle from me is having a ball, cutting up left and right, so I get his attention.
“What do ya’ say that you and I go guide the plane in for ‘em?” I asked with a wink.
“That’s a GREAT idea!” he then looks at the flight attendant. “Hey! Let us out! She and I will guide the plane in. You got any of those bright orange vests? I think we ought to have a vest. Don’t you think we ought to have a vest?”
Thankfully, twenty five minutes after we landed, the plane starts to throttle up to pull into the gate area.
“Their just teasing us.” Quips someone.
“Thank God! We’re finally there!” someone else comments.
“We aint there yet! Don’t jinx us” replies a third person to the laughter of all.
Once the seat belt sign goes off, people rocket to their feet and start to grab bags, clearly sick to death of being on this airplane. I’m in the first row of seats, so I was standing right behind the flight attendant as she is peering through the little round window in the door to get a look at the jet bridge. Minutes drag by, tick-tock, tick-tock, when I see her forehead fall against the glass so hard it makes an audible thump.
“It’s not moving. They can’t get it to move . . . “ she says to no one in particular, with her head still buried against the door and slowly shaking it back and forth. After a bit, she lifts her head and looks out of the window again.
“All right! Here comes someone else to help!” she says, with a voice filled with hope, but soon it was dashed. “Noooooo . . . he can’t get it to move either . . . “
“Thump” goes her head against the door again. . .
Then we all hear the static of the captain triggering the PA.
“Well folks, your not gonna believe this . . . “ he starts to say in a weary voice, but I couldn’t hear the rest of the announcement over the groans and complaints from the passenger cabin.
“You know, at this point I think we would all be thrilled just to use the stairs.” I told the flight attendant.
“Hey, don’t y’all have one of those fancy inflatable type emergency slides?” I asked her with a grin. “You know I’ve always wanted to try one!”
She turned around and looked at me with a smile.
“You know, I’m starting to consider that an option!” she said. We continued to wait and wait and wait . . .
“So, umm, what happens if they cant get the jet bridge to work? Do you have to get all of these pissed off people seated again and move us to another one?” I asked
“Ayup, and wow would I NOT want to do THAT right now!” she said with a laugh. She cut her laugh short, and her head whipped toward the door.
“I hear bells! I HEAR BELLS!” She said, clearly excited. “YAY! They got it to work!” she shouted, and the entire plane started to applaud. At almost 730PM I stepped off of the flight that was supposed to arrive at 330PM . . .
As I did on my last stay here, I had booked a room at the Staybridge Suites. I like this because they have fully stocked kitchens, with dishes and everything, so you have the option of cooking something instead of eating out. To most people that don’t travel a lot, eating out is a treat, something to be looked forward to and enjoyed. A lot of us that travel a lot though, grow sick and tired of restaurants and would rather eat mac and cheese or top ramen in the comfort of our own room. The bad news though, is that if I was gonna cook something, that meant I had to go grocery shopping, so off I headed to the Super Walmart grocery store not far from the hotel.
After I parked, I took a good long look in the mirror and decided that I was really pushing my luck. Sixteen hours after I had started getting ready at home that morning, my makeup and I were both starting to look kind of rough and tired. Still, I was tired and just wanted to get this over with, so in I headed. When I entered the store, I saw the carts all parked off to the side, and went to get one. There were two teenage boys and one girl sitting on carts and bullshitting, and I see one tap the other on the arm and nod my way. Soon he looks at me and gives a mock cough.
“*cough* dude *cough*” he teased.
I was too tired to really care much about his comment or attitude, and so I grabbed my cart, smiled at them, and entered the store. Despite the greeting of the asshole at the door, I had a fleeting moment while shopping where I started to fantasize about what it would be like to be a house wife, just out doing her grocery shopping. Of course I doubt many house wives go shopping in heels and a dress, but still, it was kind of a profound moment.
More than eighteen hours after my day had started a thousand miles away, I was in my room and washing and brushing my sweaty and nasty wig out. That accomplished, I then collapsed in the bed and went went sound asleep!
The following day of course involved doing my job, but I did get to break free long enough to eat lunch with Dana (http://www.crossdressers.com/forums/member.php?u=12163). We both met drab (dressed as males) so I’ll use male pronouns. I was shopping at what is becoming one of my favorite stores – the Vanity Fair Outlet. I had just found three summer tops that I thought might be OK on me despite the fact that they were intended for juniors, and I was looking for the dressing room when Dana calls and suggests meeting at Arbys for lunch. I agreed, wrapped up my shopping, and headed off to meet him. While I’m parking the car, I get a call on my cell.
“So is that you that just pulled in?” He asks.
“Yup, I just got here!”
“Good! I wasn’t sure I’d recognize you, but thought that was you!” he said.
I got out of the car and started looking around but didn’t see him. Then I entered the restaurant, looked around, and STILL couldn’t see him.
“Ummm, you apparently saw me, but I’ll be damned if I see you anywhere!” I told him.
“Yeah, it wasn’t you that I saw earlier. So where ARE you then?” he asked with a laugh.
“I’m at Arbys, just parked and am standing inside looking for you!”
“Well that explains it then, because I’m at Hardies across the street!” he said with a laugh.
“I’m so sorry!” I said between laughs “I thought you said “Arby’s” not “Hardies”!”
We sat and talked for an hour or so, about everything and about nothing much. Wives, jobs, women and men and the differences between them. . . It was an entirely pleasant lunch and strongly recommend you take the chance to meet Dana if you ever get the chance. A really nice person, and a “real” person too.
We said our goodbyes and I went to get a refill on my iced tea to tide me over on my drive back to Indy. I had to wait a few moments for an older woman who was moving kind of slow, with her hands shaking, and moving in a slow and deliberate fashion. I noticed that she had a cute little butterfly clip in her thin and gray hair and leaned over to tap her on the arm.
“That butterfly is such a pretty hair pin!” I told her with a wink. She looked up at me, clearly surprised that someone had bothered to speak to her.
“Well thank you! I think you’re the first person to ever comment on it.” She said with an odd smile. I got the distinct impression that she was grateful for the comment.
“Your very welcome. My six year old daughter just loves pretty things like that. After all, what’s the point of being a girl or a woman if you can’t wear something sparkly once in a while, right?” I asked.
“Well, I’m just an old woman, but I still like ‘em!” she said with a smile, patting my hand as she turned and walked away with her drink.
I made the drive back to Indy and I had just parked my car when the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile pulled in, circled the parking lot, and parked directly behind my car! The first thing I thought, was that no one was gonna believe this if I didn’t get pictures. Last week I wrote about Dora the Explorer walking right by me, and if I now claimed to have touched the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile, folks were gonna think that I have been wearing my wig just a touch too tight. Scared the thing might just be turning around in the parking lot and then leaving, I dove across the drivers seat to snatch my camera out of my back pack and snap a few shots as it drove around.
Much to my surprise, it parked, and after a long delay, two small women got out! Why I was surprised that this icon from my childhood was being piloted by two women, I have no idea, but there it is. The urge to go talk to them was killing me, but it was late, I was tired, and they were probably tired as well, so I left them in peace. Still, I couldn’t help myself and so went and peaked in the windows. Did you know that things has a first class interior, huge leather seats, and looked to me like it could put a Limo to shame for comfort!
The following day I was tied up with an assortment of customer issues on the phone and by email until almost noon. At long last, all know fires were put out, issues addressed, and I had the chance to head out the door ‘pretty’. Guess what was still parked in the parking lot?
Once again I went to the Castleton Mall, but this time I hit up the Sephora cosmetics counter. The lady that approached to help me couldn’t have been but about five feet tall. I’m five feet nine inches tall AND was wearing three and half inch heels, so the conversation gave us both a neck ache. She tried to be helpful, but in the end didn’t have any products I really thought were going to take the place of my current foundation, so I thanked her and moved on to the movie theater. I went to see “Inception” and had to smile most of the way through the theater. As I was buying my ticket, a manager walked up and stood behind the girl at the counter, and she kept grinning at me. When I was buying my coke and candy, another manager came over to “help” the girl that was taking care of me, and she also grinned from ear to ear as she handed me the soda and told me to enjoy the movie.
The movie . . . I just don’t know what to say! I’m sitting here thinking about it a day later and still can’t decide if I liked it or not! The special effects were of course stunning, but we knew that going in to it. The plot was pretty good too, but it was just so damned confusing, even for a huge sci-fi buff like me. Circles in circles, puzzles inside of puzzles. I can’t really explain it any better than that with out being a spoiler, but I guarantee you that if you go see the movie, you will come out thinking ‘Damn! Kim was right! That was confusing!’
As I was leaving, the adorable blond manager from the ticket counter grinned from ear to ear and shouted out to me as I was walked by.
“Thanks for coming and come back soon!” She was so cute. Sigh . . . .
I went back to my hotel room for an hour or so to freshen up, and then took off for English Ivy’s where I was to meet up with Kim (http://www.crossdressers.com/forums/member.php?u=27750) and Sarah (http://www.crossdressers.com/forums/member.php?u=62741 ) for dinner. I got seated about ten minutes before they were to arrive and decided to revisit the whole white wine thing from my recent visit with Missy and Anne.
“Hello Hun, would you like something to drink while you wait?” the waiter asked me.
“I would, thank you! Do you have a chilled white wine?” I responded. I couldn’t recall the details of the wine I’d had and liked a few weeks ago, but I recalled that it was white and chilled.
“Of course we do! I’ll be right back.” He said, then he left to go and get it. A moment later he is back, but empty handed.
“Did you want like a chardonnay?” he asked me.I'm getting the distinct impression that he doesn't know any more about wines than I do, and is stuck playing the go-between with the bartender and I.
“I’ll be damned if I know! I don’t know a thing about wine and am just trying to kind of check the stuff out.” I replied. He laughed and then left to return to the bar. A moment later he returns, but is again empty handed.
“Did you want it kind of sweet?” he asks me, clearly doing his very best to be sure I’m going to like what ever I get.
“As a matter of fact I would like it sweet! So, white wine, chilled, and sweet! That ought to do it!” I told him with a grin, and once again he took off to the bar. In a moment he returns, and this time he is holding a glass of wine. He waited while I took a sip and assured him I did indeed like it, then he started to leave but I stopped him.
“Hold on just a sec! What is this?” I asked, quickly swallowing my drink so that I could catch him before he walked off. He just got kind of a confused look on his face, clearly not understanding the intent behind my question, so I expanded.
“I just want to know how to order it again in the future, so that I don’t look like a damned idiot again!” I told him, and we both laughed. I was in the midst of making a note “Barefoot . . . “ in my cell phones memo app when Kim and Sarah walked up to the table. I stood to greet them and in a moment of uncertainty I offered to shake hands while they offered to hug. I’m never quite sure which way to go when it comes to shaking hands or hugging . . .
Both were very likable and attractive people. They joked about how Kim’s look and wardrobe got an upgrade when Sarah got involved. Sarah must have done a good job, because Kim looked terrific, and very much like your every day woman out and about her life. Sarah was cute, with pretty eyes and a head full of hair that I’d kill for, and she had that wonderful quality of being a pretty woman that might not actually know she’s pretty. Funny how often that happens . . .
Clearly she did something right in her life where I did something wrong, because she’s only a few years younger than I am but hasn’t got a single damned wrinkle on her and looks at least 15 to 20 years younger than I do. That’s just not fair I tell ya, not fair!
We talked for quite a long time I think, and much like my conversation with Dana the day before, we spoke of everything and nothing. We swapped stories of meeting our spouses, dating, the pros and cons of having children, careers, and of course being transgender. Kim had just left a job she had had for eighteen years and was now exploring her options for the future, and Sarah has an interesting job that she enjoys and finds fascinating. Both are considering having children and I’m not sure if I encouraged them or discouraged them! There is nothing like having your child sleeping in your arms, or getting a hug from them, or having them say “I love you”, but there is also nothing like having them scream and cry all night when you have to be up at 4AM in the morning!
Just off to the side of our table was a large group of older folks having a birthday party. It was really kind of sweet, and I found myself hoping that maybe someday when I was that old, I would have a group of friends that would care enough to share my birthday with me like that. We had been there talking for a couple of hours when someone picked up and moved one of the tables near the party. I had thought it was just that the birthday party group might have had someone else arrive and so they needed more table space, and so I paid it no attention. Shortly though, I discovered that I had misread the situation, because they were laying one of the birthday party folks flat on the floor and doing CPR on him. It seems that he had decided to have a heart attack. I sat there watching a couple of men working on him, and tried to decide how much I remembered of my CPR training from 20 years ago in the army. Ultimately I decided I recalled very little of it and so was most grateful that the two men who were doing CPR on him really seemed to know what they were doing. Despite their best efforts, the poor man on the floor was turning gray, and clearly wasn’t breathing. One man was doing the chest compressions for a few moments, then he would stop and check for a pulse while the other would do mouth to mouth.
“I can’t feel a pulse.” The one would tell the other, and they would start the cycle over.
A few more cycles and the news gets little better.
“I can feel a pulse every once in a while, but it’s weak.” And then back they would go to the CPR. I looked at Kim and Sarah, they looked at me, and I think at first we were all pretty sure we had just watched a man die. We discussed calling around the restaurant for a doctor or EMT, but I think we all decided that the two men working on him already sure looked like they were professionals and knew what they were doing, and so we just waited. Time has a funny way of stretching and contracting during events like these, so I’m not sure, but I think it was about five minutes later when we notice that the mans chest does appear to be expanding and contracting on its own, but only every once in a while. I was holding my mothers hand when she died about a year ago, and this was exactly the way she had been breathing a minute or two before she went. It sure wasn’t normal breathing, but it was something, some small sign that might still be there. It was right about then that the paramedics arrived, and never has there been a more welcome sight. They started shoving tables farther out of the way, we all helped them get the piles of chairs moved to the back, and we watched the pros go to work. They wired him all up to a portable defibrillator, shouted at everyone to back away from him, and zapped him once or twice. Unlike the movies, you didn’t hear anything – no loud pop and no electrical sound at all, you just see the man go rigid for an instant. By the time they carried the man out on a stretcher to the applause of the entire restaurant, he was breathing and did have a pulse, so I can only hope that he made it. Soon the tables and chairs are being moved back in to position, the lights are once again dimmed, and the few remaining party goers are clearly in shock. So is most every one else in the room for that matter. After watching the heart attack, all levity was gone from the evening. It just didn’t seem proper or appropriate to return to a frivolous evening after watching the heart break of a man coming so close to death that he may yet not escape with his life.
The following morning I again spent on the phone and in emails with customers. Such is the life of a field service engineer! Somewhere around 2PM I got it all done, and so got to head out in to the world again. I had decided to visit a resale shop that Kim had told me about – the Toggery (http://www.toggeryresale.com/). As I entered the store I was greeted by a woman behind the counter.
“Hello! Come on in!” she said as I hesitated at the door. I smiled at her and entered, still looking around. I can see several older women looking at me with that ‘What the hell! That’s a guy!’ look on their faces, but I ignored them and returned my attention to the woman behind the counter.
“Hi! I’ve heard good things about your store!” I told her with a smile. She actually paused and stopped working for a second to look up at me in surprise.
“You have?!” she asked, sounding almost incredulous.
“I have!” I told her again, mimicking her excited attitude. She just kind of laughed and again invited me in to shop. I found a gown there that I liked but just couldn’t bring myself to buy. It was short, green, size 12, and adorable! It was very short, and sort of poofed out at the bottom, and I liked it enough to go try it on. It actually fit, but I decided it would be silly to spend $30 on something I know I’m not going to have anyplace to wear. Trying to do the intelligent thing, I put the dress back with a disappointed sigh . . .
Next I raided the mall and made it a point to visit JC Penny. That is quickly becoming one of my favorite stores as I really love their “....Worthington....” brand. I found a couple of tops I was interested in and headed for the dressing room . . . where I was stopped by an attendant. Since I had thought the joint was empty she really caught me by surprise, but all she did was look up at me, smile, and tell me to take my pick of open rooms! Both of the tops I tried on looked awful so I took them out to the rack where they ask you return unwanted items. The attendant was standing there as I hung them up so I tried to make her smile.
“They were both terrible mistakes! I have no idea what I was thinking . . . “ I said with a grin.
“Oh . . .” she replied, not even thinking about smiling.
You know, some days I feel very confident, and some days I don’t, and today was a “don’t” day, so I decided to call it quites at about 6PM.
In the hotel, they serve kind of a light dinner most week nights, and so it makes the dinning area a popular place to be in the evening with many of the guests, so when I got to the elevator I found two children on it. I’d say the girl was maybe 15 and the boy about 10, but since its getting harder for me to tell with people that age, I’m not really sure. The girl was adorable with long, light, red hair, and she was chewing gum and staring at me. As she was standing right in front of the panel, I asked her to press 2 for the second floor but she just stared at me, still slowly chewing her gum. I didn’t know if she hadn’t heard me, or had decided that lifting a finger was too much work on my behalf, so I smiled and leaned in front of her to push it myself. When I got off at my floor, I had made it maybe ten feet out of the elevator when they both erupted in laughter, and I heard her yell at him “That’s it! Get out! Get out! GET OUT!”
The next morning was my flight home, and I stood staring at the old man in the mirror and trying to decide – pretty or comfortable? First I decided on comfort and going male, but then I changed my mind, changed it again, and then changed it again. In the end I selected a new skirt and sandals that I had just bought last night. I’d have to admit that the shoes really didn’t work so well with the outfit, but I was dying to wear them anyway.It was hot as hell making the long walk from the rental car lot to the airline counter, and by the time I got checked in, through security, and in to the bathroom, the back of my top was soaking wet and had a huge dark spot where my backpack had rested. I was kind of grossed out and depressed, thinking to myself that this was just more evidence to everyone that saw me that I was just a sweaty old guy. I took my top off, and since they didn't have a hand dryer I tried to use towels to soak the worst of it up. In the end it remained wet and looked terrible, so I gave up and headed to the gate area to wait for my flight. I was sitting there reading my book when a beautiful woman walked up to the gate counter, clearly in a hurry and concerned she might have missed her flight. I was looking at her flawless hair and outfit, and then just couldn’t keep from grinning as I realized that her back was also soaking wet. . .