"The girls are gone!"

It's been a fairly busy month for me!

Almost all of my service calls have been relatively local and so I have been driving instead of flying.  I've made all of these trips in ugly mode for a host of reasons – I’m trying to cut my wife some slack, it's too damned hot, and I'm not sure that I entirely trust my poor old F150 anymore because she has over 165,000 miles on her. Risking a breakdown in the heat in boy mode is one thing, but I wasn't willing to risk getting stranded out in the heat while "dressed"!

I bought a new wig several months ago because the two that I have worn for years are both showing their age and starting to look pretty rough. This is a lot more traumatic to me than you might think! I have been unable to find hair that looks exactly like my two favorites, and this is a problem because let's face it, hair is a major part of making or breaking my confidence. After purchasing several wigs online just to discover that they were nowhere as close to my originals as I wanted, I did at last find one that I thought might work for me and purchased it. Now my problem became getting the darn thing trimmed to fit and flatter, because with my being on the road non-stop, I just couldn't get an appointment that I could make. I wanted to get it trimmed by Beth Boy'e because she is both, one of us and and does a freaking awesome job with hair, but I was a victim of her success! She, and her salon are so popular that she is a booked at least a month in advance, and given the nature of my job, it is impossible to predict where I will be a month from now. We traded lots of emails, with my explaining to her why I was such a pain in the ass when it came to scheduling, and ultimately she agreed to let me know if she ever had a cancellation or free hour, and I would do my damnedest to get there if I were not on the road. So there my new wig sat, in the closet, month after month. . . .

I was working down in Pasadena Texas, south east of Houston last week, when I received an email from Beth saying that she had a little time free at 730pm if I could get there. Of course several thoughts went through my head at that point - how awesome it was of her to be willing to work so late to take care of me, and oh shit - how can I try and get done with my customer in time to make the three or four hour drive back up to Austin in time to make the appointment?!

At first, I was depressed as hell because I didn't think that I could possibly make it, and I even sent her an email saying so. Later that day though, the universe took pity on me, and I finished with my customer early enough to head out with a realistic hope of being there on time. I sent lots of frantic emails and voicemails to Beth, pleading with her to go ahead and schedule me in, and then I entered the Houston rush hour madness.

When I arrived at "Salon Muse" that night in boy mode, I was carrying four wigs - the two that I was trying to replicate or replace, the one I had recently purchased, and also one I had bought quite a while ago, but was unhappy with because it looks too much like a wig. The short and flippy wig she was familiar with, because I had bought it from her several years ago. It had gone obsolete shortly after I bought it though and so I had been unable to find a replacement when it started to wear out. Imagine my surprise when she told me that she actually had one! It was darker than mine, but I really thought it would look ok on me, and she made me a hell of a deal, so I swiped it!

The irony is, she was thoroughly unimpressed with the wig that I had brought for her to trim, and told me that the OTHER wig I had brought (Henry Margu) was a much better wig. She took a look at it, and explained that the reason it looked so much like a wig, was the tight curls all over it, and she then showed me that by washing it in very hot water, I could get those curls to relax. So - I walked in with one wig to trim, and walked out with three that I was thrilled with!

So as long as we are at this point in the story, I'll give a shout out to Beth Boy'e and"Salon Muse", because she really does a fantastic job. If you want your hair to look absolutely real and fashionably modern, you really should give her a call. In fact, it was a makeover by her many years ago that gave me the confidence to actually head out into the world and travel pretty, because she taught me how to achieve a believable and acceptable look for myself.

The results of a makeover by Beth Boy'e at her salon

The next day was Friday and the start of a three day weekend, and so we had arranged to go and spend the weekend at the Galveston beach with my wife's brother and his family, and with my wifes sister and her family. I'm telling you, you have never been exhausted until you try to wrangle three families, and five children at the beach!  Our little adventure got off to a REALLY rocky start too!

At my sister-in-laws suggestion, we had all pitched in and rented a house near the beach for the weekend. With the three families splitting the bill, it was about the same as a hotel would have cost, and so didn't seem like too bad of an idea. You can guess how thrilled we were though, when the couple in the house next to us was in the middle of a shouting match when we arrived and were unpacking our children and supplies. I opened the drivers door just in time to hear the man shout drunkenly to the woman "I work HARD and I'm sick of paying your F'ing bills!"  Oh boy . . .

That wasn't the worst of our rough start though. Nope, not by a long shot! The next morning I was awakened to the sound of my wife and sister-in-law shouting out the names of all three girls and within seconds I realized from their tones that they were not shouting at them but for them! The two oldest girls were only eight, and the youngest was five. Knowing how paranoid my wife is about never loosing sight of our children, the very concept that we were in a strange city and the children were so far out of sight that no one knew exactly where they were, scared the hell outta me. 

When I got to the front door, my wife and her sister both had the look of terror in their eyes. . .

"What's going on?" I asked my wife.

"They're gone!"

"What do you mean 'they're gone'?!" I asked.

"A minute ago, the girls were all sitting on the balcony and now they're gone! The gate is wide open and her shoes are still on the stairs, and she is GONE!" my poor wire almost sobbed.

You have to understand - my wife is the most cautious person that you will ever meet when it comes to keeping track of our children. If she lets one of our children out of the door to be with me when I am working on a car, she always makes it a point to get a verbal response from me, almost like the captain of a ship a giving over the CON.

More or less "YOU have the children, got it?!" followed closely by my acknowledgement "Yes ma'am, I acknowledge that I have the children, aye!"

The very thought that my daughter and nieces had managed to leave the yard and get out of sight was just utterly foreign to me.

Without another word, my wife headed off in one direction, her sister in another, and I went my own way, shouting out their names and stopping everyone that I passed. Part of me felt like the lowest thing in the world asking people "Have you seen three little girls?" while holding out my hand about waist high. All of them gave me a look that was part pity and part disgust, because after all, what kind of person looses sight of three little girls? They all assured me that they had not seen them. I canvased all of the stores and shops that were open, but so early in the morning there were few people out and about, and in about ten minutes I started to feel real dread - the fear that my little girl might not have just stepped a few feet out of our sight for the first time in her life, but that she might indeed be gone.

This place was a tourist trap, with thousands of people coming and going every day, and I was starting to realize that there was very little hope that the police would find them if they were taken intentionally.  With the very real thought in my head that my daughter might even now be in some pedophiles car speeding off of the island, I called my wife.

"Have they come back yet?"

"No. . . " she almost cried.

"All right, call the cops and call them now. I've looked down all of the streets and talked to everyone I saw, and no one has seen them." I told her, on the verge of crying my darn self.

"We already did and they're on the way."

I kept calling out their names as I made my way back to the rental house. . .

You know, if you haven't been through it, you just can't imagine the relief that swept over me as I saw my OTHER sister-in-law walking toward the house with all three girls in tow.  None of us had known that she was even awake, let alone had our children with her. I guess she had walked out on the balcony and the girls asked her to walk them across the street to the beach, and being the cool aunt that she was, she obliged. It had never occurred to her that we might not realize that she had the girls with her, and SHE cried when she realized what we had all just gone through.

As you can imagine, our children all received a great deal of attention for the rest of the weekend, and never got more than five or ten feet away from us at any moment . . .

Tuesday morning I was sitting in my cubicle, sun burnt and bored, when I received a call from one of my very favorite customers in Detroit. This lady has been working on Infrared Mass Specs longer than I have, and she was one of my very first solo service calls many years back. At that time, she knew far more about my instrument than I did, but she was patient and kind with me, and I will never forget her for that. In the many years since then, I have learned to hold my own with her, but I sure couldn't back then on that first service call to her. Anyway, she was having problems that she couldn't address, and so she wanted a service call. That was fine by me, because I can't stand siting in my office, and so the following morning I was off to Detroit via Charlotte NC.

It has probably already occurred to you that the democratic national convention was taking place in Charlotte at the time, but there wasn't much to be done about it, and so off I went. The only problem that the DNC caused me is that our plane was forced to sit on the runway for almost thirty minutes after landing before it was allowed to taxi up to the gate. Since my connection layover was only for fifty minutes as scheduled, that meant that I once again had the pleasure of sprinting from one end of the Charlotte airport to the other. This little voice kept whispering in the back of my head as I huffed and puffed my way across the airport "aren't you glad that you were too tired and sunburned to fly pretty?!"

I put in a very long work day the following day, but I pretty much expected that. Like I said, this customer knows her stuff pretty well, so if she is going to call me in, it is going to be a tough one by definition.

When it came time to fly home, I was stunned to realize that I was honestly scared at the thought of flying pretty. I've been doing it for years now, and know damned good and well that there is nothing to worry about, but still I was filled with fear at the idea and my head was filled with all of those nasty thoughts and doubts.

"But you're old and wrinkled now - what's the point?"

"You look terrible! Everyone will know that you are a male!"

"You're too fat and will look like shit in every outfit you brought. You should just cowboy up and fly like a guy!"

"Your wife hates it that you do this. You really should stop for her!"

Sigh . . .

I sat there looking at the outfits and wigs that I had brought, and absolutely could not decide if I should fly pretty, and if so, what outfit would make me look less like a fat old cow. I actually took a photo of all three outfits and put it on Facebook, asking for opinions, of which there was no shortage.


About a half an hour later, dozens of people were suggesting one particular outfit with a top that I had never worn before, and so I went and tried it on. With my confidence already at rock bottom, I was seriously bummed when I saw that this cute red top was most definitely straining at the buttons that go across the cleavage. I had tried this top on in the store before I bought it, but I was in boy mode at the time and with no boobs! It fit just fine then, but throw a pair of breasts in there, and this top had just hit the "no fly" zone. Damn . . .

With plan A shot all to hell, I went with the outfit that I had originally intended to wear - a blue skirt with a very girly blue and white blouse. I was more than a little relieved to see that it at least fit me well!

Once I got my makeup on, I tried on one of the new wigs that had just bought from Salon Muse:

This one is the perfect color, but flatter than I would normally have considered. I had gone ahead and bought it though for three reasons:

1 - I thought the color was perfect

2 - AmySykes at Face it Photos had done a digital makeover of me with hair kind of like it, and I had loved it. Why not give it a shot in real life?

3 - Beth made me one hell of a good deal on it!

At first I wasn't thrilled with it, but the more I messed with it, the more that I thought that it just might work! I had even made up my mind to go ahead and wear it for the day, but decided to go ahead and see how I looked in the new short and flippy wig that I had also got that night:


This one is the same model as the short hair that I have worn for years, but it is quite a bit darker, and so I had feared that it might not look right on me. I was filled with relief when I started messing with it though, because in the end I thought it looked terrific! I've always loved the look of a girl with bright blue eyes and dark hair, and I think that this wig almost gives me that look. No question about it - I was gonna wear this one today!

I was just overjoyed (NOT!) when I handed the car in at Avis that morning and the lady there asked “How was the car sir?”  
POOF – there went the confidence right out the starting gate.. .

Inside the airport, I was tickled to see one of the TSA inspectors apparently has a sense of humor, and was wearing a kind of silly hat and outfit, so I snuck a photo of him.

“Awesome hat!” I told him with a grin as I walked by him. He just grinned back at me and said “Thank you!”

After I had landed in Charlotte, I was surfing the internet while I waited for my connecting flight and was surprised when I received a short email from someone that I didn't know through one of the forums that I spend time at.

“You looked very lovely this morning if you were the one flying pretty.”

I couldn't help but grin, wondering who this person was and where they had been when I went through there that morning. It’s a darn shame that they hadn't said something though, because we could have chatted for a moment or two! Of course I already know that I wouldn’t get along with this person, because they have already shot their credibility all to hell with that fib!

How to "Fly Pretty"

If y’all are reading this, you presumably know that I travel a LOT for my job, and I do the majority of it cross dressed. Yepper, I definitely qualify as an expert when it comes to “flying pretty”. In fact, at the risk of bragging, I'm pretty sure that I am the one that coined that particular phrase a few years ago.  :)

I get countless comments and emails asking for advice on flying, and so this post is intended to address the majority of those questions and concerns.

Anyway, here is my post on the “do’s”, the “Don’ts”, and the “how to” of flying when you are transgender.

1.      Surprisingly enough, the airlines and the TSA are experienced and well trained in the proper way to deal with the transgendered. You are not going to shock or surprise them, and they are not going to hassle you.

2.      Never try and fool the airline or the TSA as to your real name or gender. If you are gonna fly pretty, you just need to accept it in advance that the airline and the TSA people you are going to deal with will know beyond any shadow of a doubt who and what you are. If you can not accept this, then you should just go ahead and skip the whole adventure and fly drab. The reality is, if you make any effort to hide your real name or gender from the airline or the TSA, I can 100% guarantee you that you will not be boarding an airplane and you may even end up spending some quality time speaking with law enforcement.Don't get me wrong, this does not mean that you need to approach any of these people and wave your hand frantically above your head while shouting "I am Transgender!"  What it does mean is that you need to give your real information when you book the flight, and you need to present a legal and unaltered state or federal ID that gives your true and legal information.

3.      As implied above, you do not need to specifically tell the people that you interact with "I am transgender."  Let's face it, when you are dressed as one gender, and present an ID showing that you are technically the other, this is abundantly clear and so there is no need to state it.

4.      Don't worry, your legal ID will be just fine. As I said, the TSA is used to seeing this and it won’t throw them for a loop. The inspector will probably look long and hard at you and your ID, but he will ultimately pass you through. In the hundreds of flights that I've taken, I only ran into an issue once with this and it was because of a brand new inspector who was still being trained. In that case, she just quietly called her supervisor over and he politely asked if I might have another form of ID to show them just to give them more confidence that I was the same person shown in the ID. Even with this small hiccup, they were quiet and respectful, and at no time did I feel like I was getting undue attention. Quite honestly I was honored - they really had trouble believing that I was a guy!

5.      Shoes! I can't speak for anyone else, but I love my pretty shoes and it will be a cold day in hell before I travel in flat or boring shoes! Now having said that, you do need to use a little common sense. Two or three times I have headed off to a 12 hour day in airports wearing new shoes that I thought were awesome and reasonably comfortable, just to discover after a bit of walking that I had made a serious mistake because the shoes were too tight or too loose and wound up being very painful by the end of a day of walking. The moral of the story is that you need to keep in mind that a day of traveling by airline can involve a lot of walking and so you need to be sure that your shoes are going to be comfortable enough for the long haul and hike.

6.      You also want to keep in mind that your shoes will have to come off when going through security. A lot of women's shoes have a number of small straps and buckles that can make for an amusing spectacle for those around you while you are balancing and hopping on one foot while trying to take them off. So my advice is to plan ahead - either wear shoes that are easy to get off and on while you are standing, or just stop and loosen the buckles before you enter the security line.

7.      With the advent of the new back-scatter body scanners, traveling pretty just became a bit more annoying. It will quite likely flag you for further inspection if you wear a corset or if your garment has any kind of decoration on it like sequins. Not to worry though, because the worst case scenario has you pulled to the side and patted down by a TSA inspector of the gender that you are presenting as. In fact, in my opinion, you should just go ahead and be mentally prepared for this pat down inspection to happen in any case. It is quick and professional and no big deal, so just be mentally prepared for it and don't get anxious if you are called to the side for one.

8.      When it comes to wearing breast forms, you enter a slightly gray area. They are considered a medical prosthesis and so are allowed through the check point despite exceeding the maximum size for liquids and gels. The gray area is that I think you technically should declare them and send them through the x-ray machine to be inspected. In practice though, I have gone through these check points twice a week at countless airports around the United States and not one single time has anyone commented on it. My advice is to say nothing and just go ahead and wear them through the check point. If they want to make a fuss about them (and again, I fly a lot and they never have said anything) then the worst case scenario is that you may be asked to step aside for further inspection.

9.      Something that most women would think of but that might not occur to all of us MTF, is that the makeup you are carrying in your purse or carry-on is probably a liquid or a gel, and so it must be treated as such. This means that it has to be placed in a medium sized zip-lock bag and sent through the x-ray machine. If you leave it in your carry-on or your purse, it will be caught, and you will be pulled aside. If you do not want the hassle or the attention, then just place it in the zip-lock bag and place it in the bin as you are supposed to.

10.  Oh, and don't forget that your sparklies (jewelry) will have to come off before you go through security. Your wedding ring can stay on, and if your ear rings are small and modest, you can probably get away with leaving them on too, but nothing more. So take the bracelets, bangles, and large ear rings off before you go through security.

11.  Bathrooms can be a bit more dicey, but probably not the major show stopper that a lot of us would fear it to be. Most modern airports of any size will have "special needs / Family" bathrooms available that are gender neutral. Again, this is with the larger airports - all bets are off for the really small regional airports. All of the international airports I have been to have these private bathrooms, but some only have one or two, and some have a lot of them. I have not made any effort to specifically note which ones have them or where they are, but off of the top of my head I can tell you that Austin, Detroit, and Atlanta have them all over the place - pretty much everywhere there is a male and female bathroom, you will also find these "special needs" bathrooms. Salt Lake City, DFW, and Charlotte have a few scattered here and there through the terminals, but they are not at every restroom location. Oh, and don't forget that the bathrooms on the plane are gender neutral, so if you can hold it until the plane is up in the air, then you will be good-to-go!

12.  What do you do if there is no gender neutral bathroom available? I would have to be honest - I don't have a full-proof answer for you on that one and so you will need to make your own decision. Considering the possible consequences, I am going to be brutally honest here. In my case, I am not entirely passable, but I think that I am close enough that people are not sure if I am male or not, and so they are unlikely to make a fuss if they see me entering or leaving the women's bathroom. Now you are gonna have to be brutally honest with yourself. Are you at least passable enough that people won’t be sure that you are male? Do you think it will make a difference if they know for certain that you are a male? I can't answer those questions for you . . .

I think that takes care of most of the fussy details, so I'll also offer a few general suggestions:

1.      The very first trip that I made, I was scared to death, and so I had a “back up and punt” plan in place. I had a Tupperware container filled with water in my car, along with a washrag, soap, and a change of clothes. I figured that if things got ugly, my worst case scenario would have me washing up and changing my clothes in the car, and then returning to the airline counter. Mind you, I know for certain that you will not need this plan, but it may give you confidence knowing that you will have that option available to you.

2.      When I travel in the summer time, I carry a small bar of soap (think Hotel soap) and a small thing of deodorant in my liquids and gels bag. Wearing a wig, breast forms, hip pads, nylons, and a face covered in makeup, all while carrying my tool box, luggage, and a backpack around in the heat, can make for a bit of an unpleasant situation. While I have only rarely had to actually use them, I want the option of cleaning up and smelling presentable if I need it.

3.      I always stop before entering the TSA checkpoint and get prepared for it. I take my sparklies off and put them in my purse. I undo the buckles on my shoes, and depending upon the shoes, I may just take them off entirely and carry them with me. I take out my laptop and liquids and gels bag. That way, when I get to the x-ray belt, all I have to do is put my stuff on the belt, and reach down and slip my shoes off. This sounds silly, but I guarantee you that the first time you fly pretty, you are going to be very nervous and extremely self-conscious, and you would be surprised at just how ungraceful this is going to make you. You will be likely to fumble with and drop things, and otherwise look silly as hell, so it will be much better for you if you just get prepared before entering the checkpoint so that you just have to set your stuff on the x-ray belt and go.

4.      At the other end of the x-ray belt, don't stand right there to put your stuff back together. When you sent it through the x-ray machine, you probably had to place your things into a plastic tub or bin. Just pick up your bags and that bin and take them off to the side where you can always find seats set aside just for this purpose. There, you can put yourself and your things back together in comfort and without everyone standing around you and waiting for you to get out of their way. If you want to demonstrate the value of this principle to yourself, next time you get dressed, try putting your strappy heels on while standing, and just imagine that there are a dozen people standing behind you and waiting on you, and the conveyor belt in front of you is shoving all of your things and theirs down to the end in an avalanche of bags and belongings. But no pressure  . . .

5.      As hard as it may be to do while you are scared and nervous, try to relax and enjoy yourself, and try to be friendly to people. We are a bit unusual, and not everyone has actually met people like us. You have the chance to make their first impression of the transgendered, so do us all a favor and try to show them someone that smiles and is friendly!

All that I have provided above is based upon my own personal experience, and so may be considered subjective, so I am also adding a link to a page on transequality.org that provides you with the official links and information regarding the topic. My thanks to Amanda Daniels and Mara Keisling for bringing it to my attention!

http://www.transequality.org/Resources/AirportSecurity_November2013.pdf

Nuthin, Zilch, Nadda . . .

Well, it finally happened – I took a trip and absolutely nothing interesting or amusing happened! NOTHING~!

So I commented on facebook the other day about getting a $140 dress at Nordstrom’s Rack for $15 – this was it:

Makeovers by Face It Photos

Me (I wish I looked that good!)

   

OK peeps, y'all don't hear me plug a business very often, and when I DO, it's usually because I am deeply impressed and because they treated me very well. I think that I've plugged Delta airlines and the Holiday Inn chain of hotels here before because both have greeted yours truly with open arms and an honestly inviting attitude for years now.

Well, I’m plugging a new one today – Face it Photos.  The young lady that runs the joint used to digitally alter photos professionally and can do what I consider to be nothing short of an incredible job with a run-of-the-mill photograph and give you something awesome in return! Not only that, but she does it for a VERY fair price, more or less asking only for your donation – as little or as much as you can afford and think fair. As an example, for this photo that she made over for me, I sent her $15, and that makes it by far the least expensive makeover that I have ever had, and all without my ever leaving the house!

Tears literally filled my eyes when I saw the photos that she did for me, because I just can’t believe how young and beautiful she made me look. I figure that if her work can have that kind of effect on me, it is worth sharing with you. So go and give her facebook page a quick look and consider what she might be able to do with one of your photo’s!


 

 

Oh, and do me a favor?  Tell her that you heard it from me, would you? I’m not going to get kickbacks or anything like that, I just want her to know that we spread the word and try and take care of people that are good to us.

 

The Quick Change Artist (Detroit June 2012)

It’s been a while since I last traveled pretty, and that has been for an assortment of reasons.  For one, the summer heat is brutal and makes it tough to look and feel your best. It’s hot for anyone, but when you add hip pads, breast forms, nylons, and a face caked with makeup, it becomes truly unbearable.  The other reason I’ve been flying in boy mode is because my wife has become increasingly unhappy with my activities and has been letting me know this pretty much every chance that she gets.

As I was packing my things for this week’s trip, I was running around in shorts and a new t-shirt when my wife made a comment to me.

“I like the way you look in that shirt.” She said with a smile.

“This ol’ thing? I just found it hanging in my closet.” I replied with a grin. After a brief pause, she started laughing and then replied.

“You are so broke in the head. You have no idea what is in the boy side of your closet, but I’ll bet that you know every single thing you have hanging on the other side!”

Of course, that’s just plain silly, I thought to myself, because I have a really shitty memory and way too many female clothes for me to even come close to recalling each and every one of them! I suspected that I wasn’t going to be doing myself any favors if I told her that though, so I let it ride and only replied with a laugh. She wasn’t done though. . .

 “I miss Matthew.” She said with a forlorn look on her face. It took me a second to realize what she had said as it seemed kind of out of context.

“What do you mean?”

“Just that – I want Matthew back.”

“Umm , I never left. I’m still here ya know?!”

“Yeah, but it seems like ‘Kimberly’ is taking over.”

“Hell, I haven’t traveled as Kimberly in over a month!”

“I still think you’re obsessed with it.”

“I don’t know if that’s entirely fair. I go to great lengths to only do this when I travel and am away from home you know? You never have to see it or deal with it, so I’m not sure why it is a problem for you. I can’t help thinking that maybe you’re obsessed with it.”

She decided to change her angle of attack after that comment.

“You know, every single time you leave the house that way, you risk our family.” She said. I wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that one, and was a little taken aback by the anger in her voice.

“Sweetheart, you know that your mother has already told everyone in your family right? I have no idea how she found out, but she made sure that everyone else knows now. What risk is left?”

“How about your job? If they find out that you are misrepresenting the company when you are traveling on their time and money?”

“I’m not representing them this way – I wouldn’t dream of going to a customer like that. How I travel is my business.” I replied, getting more than a little defensive.

“I just miss Matthew.” She said again.

“Baby, I’ve never changed. This is me, and has always been me. I honestly don’t know what to tell you if that makes you so unhappy.  I hate to say this, but maybe you should decide if you want me anymore. I know that this is not what you signed up for or expected, and I do understand that. If you can’t stand to be with me, I’ll let you go. I don’t want you to leave, but I I’ll let you go if you want to.”

Funny thing – you expect that I would recall her answer, but I was so upset that I guess I don’t. Obviously she didn’t say “get out” though . . .

I didn’t share this to air my dirty laundry in public, I just figure that I always share the amusing and fun stuff with you so it’s only fair to also comment on the bad things that happen and on the consequences that go hand in hand with my choices. Sigh . . .

So Monday morning I found myself back in the Austin airport as always, and I made my way to the US Airways counter. The ladies there still aren’t quite as friendly as the Delta folks have become with me, but I think that they are warming up a little. It goes without saying that I had the full attention of all of the women behind the counter as I stepped up. We exchanged the usual pleasantries, just minor chit-chat and nothing of note, and then I made my way to the security check area. As I was removing my shoes and sparklies, an absolutely stunning woman wearing a flawless “business woman” dress looked at me for a moment and then approached.

“You aren’t Linda are you?” she asked, very hesitant and clearly pretty sure that I wasn’t.

“Nope!” I told her with a laugh.

I wonder if she has found Linda yet?

After I put all of my things onto the x-ray machines belt, I made my way over to the body scanner to wait for my turn to go through it. For just a brief moment I was delighted to find that there was a large fan behind us, desperately trying in vain to cool all of the folks waiting in line. I say I was delighted for a moment, because that’s all it took to realize that I was in trouble! The cute summer dress that I was wearing was made out of a very light material, and it very much wanted to help me do an impression of Marylyn Monroe. One second I was prim and proper, and the very next second the skirt of my dress was trying to climb up to my ears. Needless to say, I frantically grabbed at the dress and held it in place against the offending breeze while I waited my turn with a bright red face.

I’m pretty sure that I didn’t show anyone more than is proper, but I’m not positive. . .

After I boarded the airplane, I was off in my own little world, listening to my music and reading a book on my IPAD, when an off duty flight attendant took the seat directly in front of mine. I had to laugh though, when part way through the flight she went to the lavatory for about five minutes, and when she came out she was wearing casual clothes and had her hair down.

“Now that was a quick change!” I told her with grin.

“I know! You get pretty good at it with practice!” she laughed.

“I’m especially impressed given the lack of room in those bathrooms! There is hardly enough room to sit in there, let alone change clothes!”

We laughed about it for a minute or two, and then she started telling me about how her divorce had just been finalized, and she was going to meet some girl friends for her first night on the town as a single woman in 17 years. The thing that struck me was how very happy she seemed at the whole idea!

I had one giggle moment that was work related while I was in Detroit. The machine I was repairing uses several gold plated mirrors, and sometimes these need to be cleaned, so I asked my customer to show me the way to the men’s room so that I could run the mirror under hot water. He was leading the way, and I was following him while carrying a $4000 mirror that was still at around 190 Celsius (HOT!). There were several men leaving the restroom as we entered it, and he turned to me.

“Do you want me to hold it for you?” he asked as we entered the men's room. Of course he was referring to the mirror, but the guys that were leaving the room didn’t know that, and the looks on their faces was priceless!

“All things considered, maybe you should consider rephrasing that question?” I asked him.

When I returned my Avis rental car, the lady that took care of me was one that I have dealt with several times before, and she happily greeted me.

“There’s my favorite girl with the killer shoes, and oh, those are awesome!” she said.

“Thank you!” I laughed

“So - how did you like the car?” She asked while pointing at the Ford Flex I had rented

“I loved it. To be honest, I don’t care for the boxy outside, but the interior is awesome.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought about the outside too, but I really like the car.”

“I liked it too. Can I have it?” I asked with grin.

“Sure! I’ll trade you the car for the shoes?”

“Your on!” I told her, and we both laughed at the absurd trade.

I think that the Detroit airport must set their equipment to be a bit more sensitive than other airports, because I’ve been breezing through the body scanners for months now with no problems, but I hit a brick wall here. As I exited the scanner, I turned to look at the display that shows the inspector that I am either good to go, or shows them where they need to inspect my person. I groaned as I saw that it was marking my chest area and my waist. The chest area is no great surprise as I was wearing breast forms, but I still have no idea why it flagged my waist. Anyway, the inspector apparently wasn’t happy with the results and asked me to enter the body scanner again. I’ve been frisked quite a few times, but this was the first time that I’ve ever been asked to go through the machine again. The only flaw with that plan was that another woman had already entered it and was standing there with her hands above her head waiting for them to scan her. The inspector asked her to step back out of the machine but the woman apparently didn’t hear her and so continued to stand there with her hands up.

“Ma’am!” The inspector called out firmly to her. “Please step back out of the machine!”

The poor woman turned dark red as she put her hands down and backed out, and I turned dark red as I re-entered and took her place.

Nothing changed on the second trip through though, and I still wound up getting frisked. This time they even took swabs on my hands and put them through a machine. The woman taking the sample gave me a regretful look that seemed to say “I’m sorry about this” and so I tried to lighten up the mood.

“What? Do I look like a terrorist or something?” I asked with a laugh.

“Not at all, it’s just procedure!” she replied

“Sure sure . . . “ I said with a skeptical and sarcastic tone of voice, and gave her a wink.

I’m sure that you’ll all be happy to know that she didn’t find a trace of any explosives on my hands . . .

Rednecks at the beach!

My Daughter-in-law, granddaughter, daughter, and youngest son.

You know, I'm really not much of an out doorsy kind of person. As a teenager, I grew up out in the sticks of the Mojave desert and spent most of my time out hiking, climbing the mountains, and bike riding, but somewhere along the way things changed. I think that in some ways it was the US Army that killed any desire I ever had for spending time outdoors, because after you are forced to live out in the woods for weeks at a time, freezing your butt off in the snow and rain with little to no sleep, suddenly spending time outside just doesn't sound like all that much fun anymore. Therefore it was with mixed feelings that I found myself headed for the beach in Rockport Texas for the weekend with my wife, children, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter. I have to admit though that I really enjoyed myself and I'm pretty sure the rest of my family had a great time too, at least judging by my daughters repeated comment "this is the most fun I've ever had!"
The bad news is that we all got the snot sun burned outta us, but I sorta figure that is a part of the beach experience.

My Youngest son

My daughter

 

My old bat . . .err . . I mean my lovely wife.  :)

 

When Monday rolled around I found myself in the Austin airport headed for Columbia SC. Between the awful heat, my sun burnt face, and just the simple fact that I was tired as hell, there was no way I was gonna fly pretty, and so it was as a tired old dude that I made my way through the airport. For this reason, I found it kind of surprising when both, the lady at the US Airways counter and one of the TSA inspectors, recognized and spoke to me.
"Let me guess - You're going to WA?" said the young lady behind the US Airways counter when I approached her.
"Close, but no cigar!" I replied with a laugh.
"I just thought that since you had flown there twice recently, you might be headed that way again."
"Wow, you must have one hell of a memory considering how many people that you must deal with every day!"
"Well, just sometimes!" she answered with a funny little laugh. When I got to thinking about it, I realized two things:
1 - I had made those trips as Kim and so like her counterparts at the Delta airlines counter, this young lady now apparently recognized me in both male and female modes.
2 - Her odd laugh probably added some unspoken words to her reply, something along the lines of "Yeah, my memory rocks when it comes to recognizing someone that flys cross dressed a lot!"

As I was handing her my ID, it struck me that she wasn't entirely wrong about where I was going either.
"You know it just occurred to me that you were partially right about my destination. This is a two part trip! Guess where I am going from Columbia on Wednesday?!"
"DC?" she asked with a grin.
"Baltimore Washington International as a matter of fact! Say, you ARE good!" I told her with a laugh.

A few minutes later while making my way through the TSA check point, there were two inspectors at the desk where they check your ID. The one that checked my ID was a young woman with really pretty eyes, and the other was a guy standing close behind her. I don't know for sure, but they gave me the impression that he was training her.
"Please state your full name for me?" the young lady asked.
"Matthew Huddle" I replied. I noticed that while she and I were talking, the man was looking at me, and he spoke as I looked directly at him.
"You fly a LOT don't you?!" he asked with a grin.
"I do indeed! What can I say, it pays the bills!”


When I was setting this trip up, it kept nagging me that there was something about Columbia SC that I should remember and eventually it came to me! I had a cousin that lived there! When I had last seen him, he would have been a very young child, and I was a teenager, so neither of us actually recalled meeting before. For all intents and purposes, all that we knew of each other was our respective Facebook accounts.

We are related through my fathers side of the family, and if you have been reading my blog for any time, you might know that my mother and father separated when I was very young, and so I knew virtually no one from my fathers side. Anyway, a few years ago I connected with one of my aunts on that side of the family and Richard is her son. It didn't take long looking through his Facebook to discover that he was openly gay, and happily married to another man. The more I read, the more I got the impression that he seemed to be a really nice person, and before I knew it I was sharing my story with him. Funny thing is, I'm still not sure WHY I told him, as it is not something that I typically rush to share with people that I don't know well. I'm pleased that I did though, because in the year or two since then, I've grown kind of fond of the man. It goes without saying that when I found out I was to be working in his home town, I sent him a message and invited him and his husband to dinner.

My Cousin Richard and I

I was delighted to find that Richard was exactly who his Facebook page had led me to believe he was - an honestly nice and friendly person. His husband either couldn't join us or decided not to. I suspect it might have been a little bit of both, because let's face it, it takes quite a bit of courage to hang out in public with a cross dresser, and despite my telling them that I wouldn't be coming that way, I'll bet he still worried about it.
Well, we spoke about just about everything you can imagine - our family history, his being gay and how his family had reacted, my being TG and how MY family had reacted, etc, etc.
Oddly enough I found myself often at a loss for the right words while speaking with him and I even found myself feeling a bit like I had dropped the ball somewhere. Here he had come out early in life to a conservative family, had dealt with the consequences, and was now proudly living his life in freedom and setting an example for all who met and knew him. On the other hand, here I am, still sneaking out of my own home so early that it is still dark outside, and living in abject terror that my company will find out and fire me. I honestly felt just a bit ashamed of myself.

I think that when I grow up, I wanna be just like my cousin Richard. .  .

Good Luck Charlie

So this started off as yet another blog that was almost completely lacking in anything interesting to talk about. That seems to happen more and more lately and I’m starting to wonder if it is because the world is getting used to seeing people like me out and about or if it is just that my own excitement level at the little things has just dropped over the last few years? Maybe things that I once thought were interesting and neat have now become old hat? Honestly, I don’t know and can’t think of any reason to spend a lot of time dwelling on the question. Anyway, it wound up getting a little more interesting on the last day – at least if you are a teenager . . .

Normally I get a bit of warning before heading out on a complex or long term service call, but not this time. One Friday afternoon I got a call from my manager telling me that he needed me in Albany New York the following Monday night. No worries, that’s what I get paid for though, so over the weekend I spent the time to set up flights and hotels and the like, and Monday morning my happy ass was on an airplane bound for the North Eastern United States.

The dress that I wore on the way to Albany was another thrift store treasure. It had been part of a two piece suit and had a price tag on each piece of about $10. I thought that the coat that went with it was a bit over the top, with a huge fake diamond clasp on the front of it, but for $10 I was willing to give it a whirl. When I went to pay for it though, the young lady behind the counter rang it up at over $20 and so I stopped her.

“Hey now! The price tag says $10 but you just rang it up for twice that. What’s the deal with that?” I asked her with a grin and a wink.

“Nope, it is $10 for each piece.” She replied.

“You’re kidding? It’s a two piece suit, and y’all are pricing each piece of it?” I asked her, trying to clarify it, because it just didn’t make sense to me.

“You got it!” She replied with a laugh.

“Well, I’ll tell ya what then! I think that the coat sucks anyway and I was just gonna throw it away. Since you priced them individually does that mean that I can just buy the dress and leave the coat?” I asked.

“You can!” she answered.

“Well cool then. You keep the coat and I’ll take the dress!”

And there ya have it – Kimberly has a pretty green dress . . .

I don’t imagine y’all want to hear all of my work related problems and activities, but let’s suffice it to say that my one and a half week trip ended up being a three week trip with my making multiple trips between Albany and Fishkill New York. I had originally intended to meet with Lisa Gayle Harris, but the way my job was yanking me back and forth between the two cities and customers, combined with late nights I had to spend helping customers by phone, it just didn’t pan out.

One night on the way back to my hotel I stopped and hit up a Marshalls department store in boy mode and found a pair of shoes that I really liked. Even better, they looked to be perfect for a dress that I had brought with me. The problem is that I have learned over the years that women’s shoe sizes, just like sizes on just about all women’s attire, are highly unreliable. Some shoes that fit me perfectly are size 9, some are 10, and some (ugghh) are size 11. Suffice it to say that I have learned not to buy shoes without trying them on first, and that of course presents a bit of a challenge when buying women’s shoes while dressed as a man. With my heart in my throat, I grabbed two pair of the same shoes – one in size 9.5 and one in size 10, and headed to the dressing room with both pairs. The young lady behind the counter had a bit of a puzzled look on her face as a 46 year old man placed two pair of women’s shoes in front of her.

“OK, I’m pretty bold for a cross dresser, but I’m not bold enough to sit out there in front of all of your other customers and try on heels. Do you mind if I take these into the dressing room and try them on?” I asked her with a sheepish grin.

“I don’t mind at all! Go right ahead!” she told me with a grin.

“Thanks!” I told her and happily headed on back with the boxes cradled in my arms.

Like a lot of us, I am cursed with one foot that that is smaller than the other, and so the ideal shoe sizes for me would usually be a 9.5 on my right, and a 10 on my left, and I found these shoes to be no exception. The size 10’s fit well enough, and so I put them back in their boxes and headed back out to the counter with them where I struck up another conversation with the lady manning the door there.

“So? Did you choose one?” she asked.

“Sure! I’ll take the size 10’s please!” and then I proceeded to tell her laughingly that the ideal pair for me would be one of each size. She laughed, because it turns out that she has the very same problem.

After she was done ringing up my shoes, I took out my phone and showed her one of my favorite ‘Kimberly’ photos.

“Just in case you were gonna have nightmares tonight about the ugly old crossdresser, this is what I look like.” I told her with a grin. She was gratifyingly surprised.

“No way?!” She said looking at it. “Do you do your own makeup?”

“I do! My wife refuses to travel with me just to do my makeup.” I told her with a wink, and then gave her my heartfelt thanks.

Yeah, when I got back to the hotel and took the shoes out, I discovered that she had very kindly given me one of each size! What a sweetheart!

That Thursday I was supposed to meet up with Lisa Gayle Harris from the vanity club, but instead wound up stuck in my room trying to help two customers by phone and email. As seems to be more and more common these days, they have older equipment and I am the only remaining field service engineer in the company with training and experience with it, and so the headache came to me. Then, in a perfect storm, I got a call from my manager telling me that tomorrow morning I had to head for Fishkill New York because a huge customer of ours there had the same type of equipment and they needed my help. So much for a free weekend to hang out in Albany! Instead of laying around all day and going out in the evenings over the weekend, I found myself driving to Fishkill where I spent the weekend helping one of my colleagues who was already there and struggling with the system.

Monday morning I drove back to Albany to take care of the customer that I had originally been staying the weekend to take care of. That Thursday night, the night before I was supposed to head home, my manager called me again to tell me that he really needed me to go back to Fishkill again, because my colleague was still struggling there and needed help. He offered to fly me home and then back the next week so that I could get some time with my family since I had already been gone two weeks, but I looked into it and found that it would cost well over a thousand dollars in flights, AND I would spend a huge part of my weekend stuck in airports and on airplanes, and so I just stayed another week and weekend in New York instead. At least I wound up with all day Friday free just to make the two hour drive, and so I chose to go ahead and road trip “pretty” to my next hotel.

 
 
The only thing of any interest that happened on the drive was the reaction that I got from a woman in the toll booth when I stopped to pay her.

“Honey, you look so cute!” she told me with a grin while handing me my change and my receipt.

“Well thank you! That’s kind of what I was aiming for, but I wasn’t convinced that I got it right!” I replied with a laugh. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll take a grin and a compliment any day, but this sort of comment is kind of a double edged sword. Yes, it’s a compliment, but it also makes it entirely clear that I am not passing as a woman.

Later that weekend I had an afternoon free, and since my colleague headed back to his own home in New Hampshire for the night, that left me free to get out and about for the afternoon. Fishkill is not exactly the height of social activity and so I decided to have a bit of a movie marathon. When I walked up to the counter to buy my tickets, I couldn’t help but notice that the young woman there was very pretty, and with long blond hair.

“Hi there!” I told her with a smile. “I’ll take a ticket for ‘Mirror Mirror’ please, and also one for the four PM showing of ‘John Carter’.”

“Sure!” she told me with a great smile, and then as she handed me my tickets. “That is a really pretty top!”

“Well thank you! I just got it and wasn’t really sure if it looked right on me or not.”

‘Mirror mirror’ was already in progress when I entered, and I was a little concerned when I found the theater was full of young children. I suppose I should have been expecting that, but since the lobby area of the theater had appeared to be almost empty, I had hoped there weren’t gonna be a lot of people. The children don’t bother me at all, don’t get me wrong, I just worry about the possibility of some over protective parent getting upset about the ‘dude in a dress’. The movie was delightful by the way, and the women’s costumes were absolutely to die for!

‘John Carter” was really more my speed though, and I really enjoyed that one. The woman that plays the lead female role in the movie is an absolute stunner, and given the costumes that they had her in, she was hands down one of the hottest women I’ve ever seen in a movie.

The rest of my time was dedicated entirely to my job, and quite honestly it was a rough few weeks. One night after we left the customers factory, my colleague and I both stopped for dinner and a beer at a little pub called “Handshakes”. It was really nothing to write home about, but we were too tired to look for anyplace else. About mid-way through our beers a drop dead gorgeous young woman came in and sat at the bar next to us along with her boyfriend. I hate to admit it, but I was almost obsessed with the woman, because she was pretty much everything that I wish I could be. She was in her early twenties, a flawless figure, a huge head of dark hair, and wearing a short little black dress with a wide belt. I had to actually devote effort to not sneaking peaks at the young woman. Things can get a little confusing for someone like me, because sometimes I am torn between the normal male thoughts (“Damn but she is hot!”) and those of envy (“Damn I wish I was her!”). Such is my strange life . . .

So at long last, three weeks later it is time to head for home! I wore my new dress and the shoes that I had just bought at Marshals, and headed out for the two hour drive to the Albany airport. Once again I had to pass through the toll booths, but this time I received an entirely different reaction as the man inside the booth literally just stared at me for a solid 5 or 10 seconds when I handed him my ticket. At long last, he snapped out of his stupor and spoke up.

“That will be $4.25.” he said, paused, and then continued. “Just because. . .

Huh? What the hell was that supposed to mean?! “Just because??!!”  Was he implying that it might have been less, but he as charging me $4.25 “just because” he didn’t like me?!  I dunno . . .

“ ‘Just because’ huh? Well then I guess I’ll pay $4.25 . . .  just because. . . ”

In order to save my company a buck, I had set up this flight with two connecting flights, so I had to fly from Albany to Philadelphia, and then from there on to Charlotte, and then at last on to Austin. As I boarded the flight from Philadelphia to Charlotte, the flight attendant took one look at me as I entered.

“That’s a really pretty summer dress!” she said with a friendly smile.

“Thank you so much.” I replied as I made my way to my seat, thinking that once again I clearly wasn’t passing. She surprised me though, because she went on to compliment almost every woman that came on board. At least she wasn’t singling out the cross dresser. 

As usual in first class, the flight attendant made the rounds asking everyone what they would like to drink, and I told her that I would like a screw driver.

“Every flight has to have a lush on it, and I’m gonna be it on this flight!” I added with a wink.

“A lush? Now there is an interesting word.” She replied with a grin. Shortly she had provided everyone with a drink and then carried a basket of chips and snacks around and offered those to each of us. I grabbed a bag of chips and laughed.

“So this is lunch then?!” I asked.

“Sure it is!” then she paused. “So we are using all of the “L” words today? Lush and Lunch?”

“I suppose we are.” I answered her. I really have no idea what her fascination with “L” words was. Maybe she was just nervous and so sort of babbled? I dunno . . .

When the flight landed in Philly, I had a hard time trying to figure out where the heck I was supposed to go. Signs in one direction said “B1 to B8 this way” and in the other direction a sign said something along the lines of “B10 to B20 that way”. The problem of course was that I needed to find gate B9 and it didn’t appear to be anywhere near me. There were literally signs telling me how to find every gate except for the one that I needed. My confusion must have been obvious . . .

“Ma’am, you look confused. What gate are you looking for?” said a voice from behind me.

I turned to find an airport employee looking in my direction.

“Well, I see signs for every gate except B9!” I laughed.

“No problem! Go right around this corner and it’s on your right.”

“Thanks!”

When I got to the gate area, it struck me that one of my TG friends, Sophie, lived in Philly and it was a shame there was really no realistic way to see her while I was there. Still, I took the chance to make her laugh and sent her a text message something like: ‘I’m in the Philly airport. If you get here in the next 20 minutes we can wave at each other past the TSA inspectors!”  Needless to say, she declined.

As I was making myself comfortable in the gate area, I couldn’t help but notice two young ladies enter the area. They looked to be in their late teens, probably close to twenty years old. One of the girls had dark hair and was wearing nothing of interest. The girl with her though was a little blond thing, and wearing an absolutely adorable little sun dress. She looked kind of familiar, but I couldn’t place her. Let’s face it, I don’t know a single girl that age, and so I let it go. When it came time to board the plane, I was standing next to these two near the door while we waited for the boarding to start, and the cute blond dropped her water bottle three times. On the third time, I picked it up for her.

“I think your water bottle doesn’t want to go with you.” I joked with her.

“I know!” she replied with a laugh and then thanked me as she took the bottle back. It kept nagging at me that she looked familiar. . .

When they called for first class to board, I was surprised to see the two young ladies step forward, because let’s face it, very few ‘children’ that age are found in first class. It turned out that they sat directly across the aisle from me and I was mildly surprised when a woman on her way past stopped to talk to the blond girl.

“My daughter loves your show. Would you mind signing an autograph for me?”

NOW I knew where I had seen the girl before! She was Bridget Mendler who plays “Teddy” in “Good luck Charlie”!