So after you get your baggage at the Detroit airport, you have to go up a series of escalators to get to a bridge that takes you to the area where the rental car shuttle buses pick up and drop off. This is nothing new to me, because I’ve made this walk about a million times, or so it seems anyway, but this time things didn’t work out quite right.
Now you have to sort of get this picture into your head before you can really “see” the event I’m about to describe. I have a HUGE suitcase because let’s face it, I gotta carry enough clothes, shoes, makeup, and stuff for two people for a week. I also have to take a large rolling toolbox with me that carries all of my tools and spare components in it. Then, just to top it all off, I also have a backpack with my laptop, notebooks, kindle, GPS, and a good 25 pounds of assorted stuff in it. So, there I am, pushing my tool box in front of me and pulling my huge suitcase behind me as I head up the fairly narrow escalator. When I got the end of the escalator, I pushed the tool box forward and stepped off of the escalator just as I always have.
Well, that was the plan anyway, but it didn’t quite work out that way. . .
At the end of the escalator I pushed the tool box forward and it went absolutely nowhere – it simply stopped at the end, trapping me behind it on the still moving escalator. Realizing that the escalator was moving me, and the people behind me, toward the now blocked exit, I reached out my foot and shoved the box as hard as I could . . . and still the damn thing wouldn’t budge. Now things are really getting exciting, because the box is blocking the narrow exit of the escalator, the escalator is still happily moving me and everyone behind me toward the blockage, I’m off balance because I’ve got one foot desperately trying to shove the tool box forward, and I just ran out of room. You know, I would have paid good money to have someone filming or taking pictures when I was left with no choice but to leap over the toolbox, while wearing a dress and four inch stiletto sandals! Once on the other side of the tool box and now looking down the escalator at all of the people that are about to run into my little road block, I grabbed it with both hands and yanked it as hard as I could. At last, the tool box came free and went sliding about ten feet across the floor, along with the backpack that had been sitting on top of it. With the tool box now out of the way, my suitcase was free to tip over, and so I reached out and snatched it out of the way just as the next person behind me got to the top of the escalator. Horribly embarrassed, I made my way from bag to bag, picking them up and apologizing to the folks behind me that had come within seconds of also having to jump over my baggage. The man that was behind me helped me grab my things and even offered to take one of the bags up the next escalator for me. The woman that was right behind him just gave me this horrible “You are SUCH a loser” look that it made me want to wilt and die on the spot.
When I got to the rental car lot and stepped off of the bus, I was making my way to the board where they display your name and the space where your car is located, when an Avis employee walked up to me.
“Your car is in space G11 ma’am” he told me with a smile
“Thank you!” I replied, and then turned to find the space when it struck me. He hadn’t asked for my name or anything, and yet knew which car was mine. Now despite the show I had put on at the escalator earlier, I am not an idiot, and so it doesn’t surprise me that he recognized the cross dresser that has done so much business there, but the fact that he remembered the name that went with the cross dresser was pretty impressive. I was still thinking of this when I handed my contract and drivers license to the female guard at the gate.
“Well look at you!” she said as she compared the two documents. “Looking all pretty and everything!”
“Awe, thanks!” I replied. And then things got a little weird as she continued to gush
“You are REALLY pretty, and wearing your pretty little dress and everything. You make me think of Rupaul – he is so gorgeous!”
“He IS pretty, isn’t he? Yeah, but I’m nowhere near being in his league!”
“Have you seen his show before? Rupaul’s Drag Race?” she asked.
“You know, believe it or not, I’ve never seen it!”
“Well you should check it out!” she said, and then continued to just stare at me without handing me my things back. “You just look so cute with your perfect hair and pretty dress!”
“Thank you . . . “ I told her again, trying to give her a smile, but starting to get distinctly uncomfortable.
I wonder if she realizes that she ran a serious risk of offending me? Nothing against RuPaul, but your average TG out and about and living their life, isn’t necessarily going to like being compared to a self-proclaimed drag queen, even if we are talking about a world famous and pretty one. Still, I like to take into account what someone’s intent is, and she was trying to be nice.