Yet another trip to ....Detroit...., and this one with very little advanced notice. As has been the norm these days, my company booked me on a very early flight to save a few dollars and so yours truly had to get up at 2:45AM. Considering that I hadn’t got to bed until 11PM I wasn’t terribly enthusiastic when the alarm went off. Uggghhh . . . .
I had intended to wear a short and multi-colored skirt that I had recently bought, but when I tried the damn thing on I found it was unacceptably tight. It hugged my behind to the point where I looked absurd and so I found myself sneaking back into my bedroom where my wife and daughter were still sound asleep and grabbing an alternative skirt. So I went from short and flirty, to prim and proper. I also decided to wear my new boots, but later came to regret that choice. I hadn’t thought that the heels on the boots were any taller than the heels on my pumps, but I hadn’t even got to the ....Austin.... check in counter before my calf muscles started to complain, and by the time my 10 hour travel day was over, they went from complaining to down right howling.
Once again I made a trip with very little of any interest happening. No smiles, no grins, no frowns, no reaction at all from anyone. I still haven’t decided if it is cool that everyone is taking me in stride these days or if I’m kind of disappointed. After all, it used to make things interesting to see the way people reacted, and now things a re just kind of boring.
In ....Detroit...., the Avis shuttle bus driver was a young woman, probably in her early twenties..
“Are you a preffered member ma’am?” She asked me as I boarded the bus.
“Yes ma’am, I am” I replied
“What’s your last name?” she then asked.
“Huddle,” I replied. OK, OK, I gave her my real last name, but using Huddle here simplifies things. So she gets back to her seat and starts punching keys on her mobile PC and speaking into her radio as she drives off for the lot. As we are driving I can hear her giving names to someone on her radio, and some she has to repeat over and over.
“Huddle, first initial M” I hear her say over and over. Clearly she has pulled me up on a list and knows my name and of course my gender. Still, as we approach the lot she starts to call of names and the parking spaces where our cars can be found. As she gets to my name I wanted to run up and hug her.
“Mrs Huddle, your car is in F20.” She says with a smile on her face and a grin in her eyes.
Such a simple thing on her part made such a huge difference to me. She had considered the ramifications of what I was, made the decision to respect that, and shown me the courtesy and respect of calling me “Mrs” in front of the other passengers. Yup, I damn near hugged that woman on my way off of the bus . . .