Lots of friends in Philly

Sunrise at the Austin-Bergstrom Airport

Phew! As I start to write this, I am on an airplane, at about 34,000 feet, and my head is killing me. Of course since I did it to myself, I can’t complain TOO much, now can I? But I’m getting ahead of myself . . .

This week I went to the Philadelphia area to work with yet another customer who was deeply angry at my company due to the service he received from the guy my company just had to fire for alcoholism. It seems that he had been there to do routine maintenance on one mass spec, and before it was all over, the customer had to return four instruments to our factory. Right or wrong, the assumption and perception of the customer here was that the guy we fired caused the problems, and so they are mad as hell and have no faith in our field service department. We have rehired a guy that we laid off last year to cover this region, but as angry as this customer was, my manager decided that he would rather send me than this other guy. I will sure be happy when the dust settles from behind the guy we lost. He was one of the best guys I’ve ever worked with, one of the few I truly respected. It hurts like hell to think of him, and every time I have to do something like this, it is like opening the wound up over and over. The good news is that I have several really good TG friends in the Philly area and so I was happy to have the chance to see them again.






Tuesday morning I checked in at the Delta counter as usual. While I am not as friendly with him by a long shot as I am with the lady I often mention, I did at least recognize the gentleman that checked me in as I’ve seen him many times over the years.

“Well, I haven’t seen this ID before!” he said with a huge grin as I handed him my Texas state ID with my female picture on it. It has all of my legal and male info on it, but I took the picture while I was dressed as female.
“It’s me, I promise.” I told him with a smile and he just let out a laugh.
“Oh, I know, it’s just that I’m used to seeing your other ID!” This was of course referring to my male driver license.
“Yeah I like this one much better! It doesn’t tend to raise as many eyebrows!” I told him with a wink.
“Well it certainly looks more like you. I’m guessing it’s a lot less hassle with TSA down the hall too huh?”
“Oh Yeah, big time, and it’s a lot less stress on me. They used to look at me pretty hard!” I told him, while demonstrating how the TSA used to compare my ID and I by glaring at my ID, glaring at him, glaring at my ID, and glaring at him again.

When we stopped laughing, I made my way to the very TSA line we had just been yapping about, and was rewarded by the inspector looking straight in to my eyes, grinning from ear to ear, and wishing me a safe flight. Once I’d gone through security, I sat on a bench putting my shoes on, putting my laptop away, and getting my jewelry back on. Imagine my joy when I realized that I had apparently dropped my ticket somewhere along the way! I made my way back to the security line where a TSA agent stopped me.
“Excuse me ma’am!” she said, holding her hand up to stop me from moving any closer to the X-ray machine. “Can I help you?”
“Well, I hope so! Being the brilliant individual that I am, I apparently managed to lose my ticket on the 30 foot walk through the check point.” I told her. She told me to wait there and soon she returned, carrying my ticket.
“Awesome! Thank you so much!” 
I’d known that it would be relatively simple to get a new copy printed at the gate, but I still hadn’t wanted the hassle.

You know, I love flying Delta because they treat me well, and the majority of the time I get to fly first class, but I have come to realize that they really seem to suck at getting flights out on time. As seems to be the case so often these days, they informed us that our flight was going to be delayed by half an hour. Since I had only had 50 minutes to make my connection in Detroit as it was, I was less than thrilled about this. It made it almost certain that I was going to be missing my connecting flight and get the hassle of waiting in long lines of angry people to try and get a new flight, and then arriving many hours later than planned. I was sitting in the gate area worrying about this when a Delta customer service representative walks directly up to me.
“You should still be able to make your connection, but I just wanted to let you know that I’ve gone ahead and reserved you a seat on the next flight from Detroit to Philly just in case you don’t make your scheduled flight.” She told me, with a friendly and sympathetic smile.
“That is SO awesome! I was just sitting here worrying about that very thing, so thank you so much!” I replied, deeply touched by the concern and courtesy she had shown for me. As I sat there a moment longer, it occurred to me that I had not dealt with this woman today, and so she must have my name memorized from prior visits. As usual, I’m not entirely sure how I feel about so many people at the Austin airport knowing my name and being able to match it to my face in both male and female mode. Oh well, it’s a bit late to worry about that now, now aint it?!

As is my habit, as soon as I was in my seat on the plane, I turned on the overhead light and pulled out my paper back book and began to read it as people boarded and the plane began to taxi. As the plane starts moving, we all hear the loud “Bong” sound from someone pushing the flight attendant call button.  Two or three seconds later, it goes off again, and then again, and continues to go off every few seconds.
“Bong. Bong. Bong bong. Bong bong bong.”
Over and over the damn thing sounds off loudly over the intercom until every one starts looking around in concern and irritation, trying to find the impatient person that must be pushing it over and over. Well, it turns out that no one was pushing it – the damned thing was going off all by itself. A couple of rows away from me, I can see the call button light above a gentleman going off and on all on its own, with no one pushing it. About the time I realized the thing was going off and on by itself, my reading light turns itself off, so I reached up and turned it back on.
“Bong. Bong. Bong bong. Bong bong bong.” Goes the attendant call button over and over and then off goes my reading light again, then again, then again. Everyone was looking at each other in bewilderment and irritation at the loud and persistent “bonging” noise over the intercom, and I was just beginning to think to myself that maybe this is a sign that I shouldn’t be on this plane, when it took off. Fortunately the problem went away shortly after take off, and the rest of the flight was made in blessed silence.

When my plane landed, my next flight was already boarding. I had only 20 minutes to get off this plane and make my way to my next plane two terminals away. I wasn’t about to run across the airport but I was stepping it out pretty good as I approached the next gate. Today I was wearing one of my favorite peasant skirts that I have told y’all about before. It’s long and made out of extremely thin and light weight materials, so it tends to swirl around your legs when you walk. It looks absolutely beautiful in motion, and boy was it ever in motion given how quickly I was walking to catch the flight.
“That is a beautiful outfit!” said the Delta rep as I walked up to her and handed her my ticket.
“Awe thanks! It is definitely one of my all time favorites!” I told her.

Part way through the flight, the flight attendants make their rounds asking everyone what they would like to drink. I went ahead and got a screwdriver (Vodka and Orange Juice), figuring ‘what the heck, might as well take advantage of flying first class!’ When I finished that drink, the adorable flight attendant returned and asked me if I wanted a refill.
“Hmmm . . . . “, I thought about it for a moment, but figured I really didn’t want to arrive tipsy. “Nah, how about a coffee?”
“Are you sure?” she said, with a huge grin on her face. Clearly she had noted my hesitation.
“You’re a bad influence aren’t you?!” I asked her with a grin of my own.
“Who, me?! Not at all! You want some Bailey’s cream in that coffee?” She asked me, and somehow her grin had gotten even bigger.
“Don’t tempt me! No, I think I’ll stick with the good old fashioned cream and sugar, but thanks!”
“Ok, ok! One coffee coming up!”
In about half an hour I was finishing my coffee when she walked by again. She looked at me with one eyebrow up, lifted her hand with her thumb and pinky finger extended, and rocked her hand back and forth near her mouth to simulate drinking a beer. I started laughing so hard that I startled the guy sitting next to me.
“You are SO bad! No thank you, I think I’m done for the flight.” I told her. Funny, her smiles and teasing made the flight so much more pleasant . . .

When the plane landed in Philadelphia I was shocked at the heat when I stepped off the plane! Usually when I travel from Austin to anyplace in the East, it feels like going back to spring or fall to me because it is so much cooler. Well not this time - it was HOT! I stood out in the heat waiting for the Avis shuttle bus, but apparently Avis is not running as many buses as their competition. I sat there for ten minutes and watched the shuttle buses for other companies come and go several times, and still no Avis bus. About to die of heat stroke, I dragged my bags back in to the terminal and waited there, peering out of the windows for the bus. In a few minutes I could see the Avis shuttle bus approaching, so I grabbed my bags and headed out to the stop. Much to my major irritation, the damned bus went right by me and never stopped, and since I had waited for ten minutes or more, this really irritated the hell outta me. I grabbed my bags and went back in to the terminal, and once again waited. I watched three National Car buses come and go over the next ten minutes, until at last, I saw another Avis bus approach. This time the damn thing stopped.





I had been invited to dinner tonight by Missy and her wife Anne. This is one of the sweetest couples that I have ever met. They are full of light and brightness, and their love and respect for each other is evident in all that they say and do. I couldn’t even point to any thing and say “See, this is why I feel this way about them”, because it’s not one big thing, it’s the countless small things that make it clear they love each other. They picked me up at my hotel, where we chatted for just long enough to be sure that we would be late for our dinner reservations. I don’t recall the name of the place, but it was a very nice restaurant. Missy and Anne have become pretty good friends with the owner, and have eaten there many times in both male and female modes, and the owner doesn’t seem to think it’s any big deal at all. He personally approached our table to ask what we would like to drink. Anne ordered something, I think a red wine, and then the proprietor looked at me waiting for my drink request.
“You know, I have to admit that I don’t know a thing about wines, so we’ll just assume that she knows what she is doing and I’ll go with the same thing she ordered!” I told the man, trying to be just a bit amusing as well as honest. I’ve never really cared for wines and so have never bothered to learn anything about them.
“Well no, that’s not a good idea at all!” he quite bluntly replied, and much to my surprise. “Tastes in wine are very personal. She might very well like something that you wont. Do you like warm wines or would you prefer something chilled? The red wines are generally heavier and the white wines are a bit sweeter.”
He said quite a bit more, but I’m afraid my memory sucks and I don’t recall the entire conversation word for word, but in the end I chose the chilled white wine and LOVED it! Like a good host, he kept checking back in to see if I had enjoyed it or not.
We spent the night chatting about just about everything from electronics to the Transgender lifestyle, and I thoroughly enjoyed the evening with them.

As a result of my time waiting in 103 degrees for the rental car shuttle bus, my wig was nasty, and so the last thing I did that night was to wash it, and hang it in front of the air conditioner to dry overnight.

The following morning I had to go and earn my paycheck, and so off I went to visit a customer that had initially refused to let us come fix his instrument in the field due to the experience he had had with that guy we just fired. In short order I had his instrument fixed and asked if he wanted me to look at his others. He hesitated a good 20 to 30 seconds and then told me that his boss had specifically told him not to let me touch any of their other machines because he didn’t want to risk a repeat of what had happened the last time, where four instruments had to be returned to our factory. I assured him that I understood his reluctance, and offered a compromise – I’d check their instruments through the software just to be sure that they appeared to be operating reasonably well but I wouldn’t touch or change anything with out talking to them first. He agreed, and off we went! The next instrument I checked had been damaged by them, and the threads intended to hold an external tank full of liquid nitrogen had been badly stripped. It doesn’t sound like such a big deal, but when this happens, it results in the entire weight of the five liter container resting on the infrared detector of the instrument, and knocking it out of alignment. In just a few moments, I had determined that this was indeed the case, and that the instruments Infrared detector required realignment. I didn’t have to work too hard to convince the customer that this really wasn’t an optional thing, and the instrument really had to be worked on, and so soon I was taking it apart. When I was all done with that instrument, and the customer was properly impressed that I had dramatically improved the performance of both instruments I’d worked on, they decided to set me loose on all of their others, and fortunately I found no other problems.

At about 2:30 PM I was free and headed out in boy mode to look for Goodwill stores to raid. I was going to be hanging out with Sophie tonight, but that wasn’t for a few hours yet, so I had a little time to kill. The first Goodwill I found was a fairly nice one but I didn’t find anything I liked there. The next Goodwill I found really didn’t look all that impressive, but I was pleased to find a really neat wedding gown there in my size! I picked it up and found that it was very heavy and very well made, and so I started looking for the price tag, fully expecting to find it selling for around $80 as most wedding gowns at Goodwill do. Much to my shock considering the obvious quality of the gown, I found the price to be only $35! Still not believing my luck, I grabbed it and headed in to the dressing room to be sure that it fit. I found it to be a little shorter and tighter than I’d really like, but for $35 I wasn’t about to pass it up. Soon I was at the check out counter with my arms full of the white explosion of satin and lace fabric. The cashier, a woman in her late 50’s I’d guess, grinned from ear to ear as I covered her counter with the huge pile of fluff.
“Your going to make a beautiful bride!” she told me with her smile and eyes beaming.
“Well thanks! I thought it was awesome, and since y’all are just about giving it away, I wasn’t about to pass it up!” I told her, no doubt with the skin on my bald head turning red in a blush. She found the price tag and then looked up at me.
“Oh my God, you sure aren’t kidding about that! I wonder why they priced it so low?” she said, looking kind of puzzled.
“I dunno, but I’ll take it!” I replied with a grin.
“I don’t blame you.” She said, and then after a moment. “Now I don’t want to see any June brides! Besides, it’s July so your too late for that!”
“Ma’am, I’ve been married for over 23 years, so it’s WAY too late for that!” I told her with a laugh.
When I got back in to the car, I placed my daily call to my wife to tell her I love her, and to chat for a bit, and of course I mentioned my new found treasure.
“I just compounded my lack of closet space problem!” I laughed.
“Oh no! Matthew, what did you do?!” she said with a serious tone. For those of you that aren’t named Matthew, I’ll clue you in on a little secret. The name is ‘Matt’ right up until your in trouble. When you have done something wrong, the name suddenly gets elongated into ‘Matthew’, and if you really piss your wife off, the middle name gets thrown in there. Her calling me ‘Matthew’ implies that she is assuming I have done something wrong.
“I bought a wedding gown and it’s awesome! They were practically giving it away so I snatched it!” I bragged. Here is where things started going south. . .
“What is it with you and wedding gowns? That’s kind of weird and creepy . . .” she said.
“It is not creepy! What is creepy about it?” I said
“It’s just creepy!”
“No it’s not”
“Yes it is!”
“Come on, your OK with my being a cross dresser but you have a problem with my buying a beautiful wedding gown?” I asked, getting kind of flabbergasted.
“But it’s a wedding gown! That’s creepy!” she repeated
“Well what’s possibly more feminine and beautiful than a wedding gown in the modern world? What else is there these days that comes even close to a wedding gown for something beautiful?”
“Fine, but I still think it’s creepy.” She mumbled.
As near as I can tell,  my wife is hung up about it’s intended purpose and possibly even the implications of the wedding night, while I’m just looking at the gown for it’s own sake. I couldn’t care less that it’s intended purpose was for a wedding with all of it’s implications, I just like the fact that it’s elaborate, gorgeous, and sophisticated. Still, the conversation did bring me down a notch or two.

As I was getting ready for my evening out with Sophie, I kept glancing at the clock and trying to decide if I had the time to try the gown on and get a picture or two of it. As much as I may have wanted to, I had no where near enough time for that, and so I had to ignore its continued pleas for attention.


I was going to wear a long orange skirt that I had liked the last time I’d worn it, but when I tried it on it just wasn’t flattering. I guess I’ve gained too much weight or something, but it just didn’t look right. I tired a second outfit and it also didn’t look right. Plan C was this rust colored skirt and brown flecked top. For those of you that worry about that sort of thing, I have not developed a fetish for leather, it’s just that leather skirts are very flattering. They hide lots of flaws like the lumps and bumps of hip pads or nylon waist lines, etc.

Having finally decided what to wear, I started to get my wig in to shape, and this is when I discovered that I had left my hairspray at home! This wouldn’t have been a huge problem, but I’d been forced to wash my wig last night, and it looked like hell! I also had my new wig, but it had been washed at home and then thrown in a box for the trip, so it looked terrible too. I tried and tried, but I couldn’t make it look at all decent, not even good enough for a short walk through a store to buy hairspray. No way around it, this was going to end up with me embarrassed. I was just stealing my nerves for walking through a store with hair that looked terrible when I recalled that there was a small shop in the hotel where they were selling incidentals so I gave the front desk a call. Much to my great relief, he confirmed that they did indeed have hairspray there, so now I just had to look like hell in front of one person, instead of walking past dozens in a store. I had just finished getting my new wig into shape and looking fairly decent when Sophie arrived. Since I’d had the little hairspray fiasco, I was running behind and didn’t have my act together, so poor Sophie had to wait around while I grabbed my jewelry, put my purse together, and ran around in circles accomplishing nothing at all . .


.  
At long last I had it all together and asked her if we should take a few pics in the small and somewhat drab hotel room, or take them outside in the sunshine and trees. Considering it was 100 degrees outside, we chose to take a few indoors. Since the room was so small, we had to kind of improvise an area and a suitable place for my little tripod and camera to take them. When I got this idea for the tripod, Sophie started laughing and dragged out her own camera, saying that everyone needed a behind the scenes look at this one.







First we headed off to a hotel restaurant where Sophie had read that they were going to be doing karaoke tonight. As we started to pull away in the brand new Mustang the rental car company had so nicely upgraded me to, I looked over at her and grinned.
“You have GOT to hear this!” I said and then I floored the car. The car hesitated for just a moment and then roared like an angry dragon was under the hood, and we shot down the road at break neck speed! I was grinning like a lunatic until I realized that Sophie had had a lap full of odds and ends, and my little bit of fun had just tossed it all on to the floor. She managed to pick most of it up as I continued to drive on at a more sedate pace. After a few more minutes though, I just couldn’t stand it, and let the Mustang loose again, reveling in the angry roar from under the hood. Sophie looked at me and started to speak.
“Two things. First, remind me to pick up my cell phone. I think it’s on the floor by the door. Second, the cops here drive Chargers. I’m just saying . . . “
Well, now I had tossed poor Sophies things on the floor twice, and so I started to feel a little bit guilty, and started to drive like a more respectable and decent person.
Most of the way.
Most of the time . . .





I don’t think Sophie was terribly excited at the idea of karaoke, but she knew I loved it and was trying to be a good host and take care of her nerd of a friend. Unfortunately it turned out that their web page had been incorrect, and tonight the restaurant was doing trivia, and not karaoke. It was getting a little late in the evening, and we were both hungry, so we decided that we would stay for a while anyway and at least eat dinner there. We had arrived between trivia rounds and so had time to make a toast with a double shot of Jack Daniels and time to order our dinner before the game resumed.
If you get four questions right, you get a chit for a free drink, and if you win a round, you get a chit for a free snack. Like I said, my memory sucks and so I don’t recall the questions, but I sure recall Sophie’s expertise in answering them. The guy would just barely start asking the question when Sophie would shout out the answer. This happened time after time, and it would have been something like this:
“In 1876 this popular author. . . “ the MC would start to say.
“Mark Twain!” Sophie would pipe up, interrupting him before he even got the question out. After the fifth or sixth time in a row, one of the women at the bar shouted our way.
“That’s it. You're not welcome here anymore!”
After a few more questions very much like this, another one shouted our way.
“Next time I’m sitting at your table!” and everyone laughed.
Soon the game was over and we had two or three white chits for free drinks and a red one for a free snack stacked up in front of Sophie. Being the awesome person that she is, Sophie took the snack chit over to the group of women at the bar and offered it to them. The drink chits on the other hand, we made good use of for ourselves.
“So what was your masters degree in again?” I asked Sophie, just stunned that she had answered so many questions correctly and so quickly that I hadn’t even comprehended the question before she was responding to it.
“In education!” she said with a huge grin.



We played a little bit of pool while we discussed our options for the remainder of the night. I don’t recall who won the pool game, but we did finally decide that we would make the drive in to Philly and see what kind of trouble we could get in to there.

After a little bit of hunting and pecking, Sophie got us to the parking garage near the pub we were going to visit. There were two guys sitting in lawn chairs outside the garage, which I thought was kind of odd, but I drove past them anyway. I was about to head up the ramp and find a parking space when Sophie yelled.
“Stop – STOP!” I hit the brakes but still had no idea why we were stopping.
“What the hell?” I said to her.
“Umm, the sign says ‘stop’” she said, as though educating an idiot. She was pointing at a stop sign and the huge word “STOP” painted across the concrete, as if to imply ‘you DO know how to read right?’  As we were sitting there laughing, one of the lawn chair guys approaches the window. It turns out that you don’t park your own car there, you give them the keys and they park it. Oops. . .
Soon Sophie had paid for the parking and we headed off to walk to the pub. It had been about a half hour drive from the restaurant and part way through our drive I’d discovered that the beer I had drank wanted back out, and it wanted out NOW! I guess I was pretty much doing the “I gotta potty” dance most of the way on our walk to the pub, and so Sophie kept offering to go in to assorted places with me.
“This looks like a good place! Let’s go in here, you can go to the bathroom, and then we’ll leave!”
“Are you crazy? I don’t know if these are friendly places, straight places, or what. I don’t want to die tonight so I’ll just wait for the place you know is friendly!”

We continued walking, and after a few blocks, I realize that Sophie doesn’t look at all confident about where we are going.
“Holy shit! You're lost aren’t you? You have no freaking idea how to get there do ya’?” I asked her with a laugh, just trying to yank her chain. Of course, I’m trying to yank her chain and be cute, but I really DO have to go the bathroom something fierce!
“No no, I know how to get there, but we must have gone past the street.” She reassured me, so we turned around and headed back the way we had come. It turns out that she was right, we had just gone a little too far, and just a couple of streets back she turns down an alley.
“You have GOT to be kidding?!” I asked her. “You're gonna get us killed walking down a dark alley late at night in Philly aren’t ya’?
“Hell no, we’re only going to where those people are standing down there.” She said and pointed down the alley. The only people I saw “standing down there” were a good three or four blocks away so I started to give Sophie hell again.
“No you idiot, not down there – the people standing right over there!” she said, pointing to a couple of folks standing only about 50 yards or so away on a stair case.
When we entered the Tavern on Camac, Sophie went one way, and I went the other – straight to the bathroom. Phew . . .

When I got out of the bathroom, Sophie had got us a couple of seats at the piano where a tiny and adorable woman was playing. She was playing a good variety of music and encouraging folks to sing along, and so it wasn’t long at all until I was having a great time.

At one point I looked over at Sophie and see her in an animated conversation that at times seems to be

getting a little loud. I start to pay attention, just to be sure that she isn’t getting into any trouble and almost fell off of my seat when I realize that she is arguing with the two men about Star Trek! They are going back and forth about good series and bad series, good episodes, and bad ones.
With a laugh, I go back to listening to the music and chatting with the young couple seated in front of me.
As the night goes on, the man is getting friendlier and friendlier, and we talked about where we were from, what we do for work, and where we had been. When the night drew to an end, he looked at Sophie and I.
“If you have any trouble at all, or need any help at all, you just give me call.” He told us. He was clearly sincere and also clearly drunk.
“I know you don’t have my number though. . . “ he said and then paused. “Do you want it? Do you want my number?”
“Awe, that is so sweet, but no thank you. We will be just fine and I’m headed home tomorrow morning anyway, but thank you so much!” I told him.

We got back to the parking garage with no problems, and while we stood there waiting for the attendants to bring my pretty pony around to us, a Taxi cab stops in the middle of the street and honks his horn – twice! We looked over to see what I assume is a young Indian man behind the wheel and we waved him on, making it clear that we didn’t need a ride. Having told him we didn’t need his services, we turned back away, and the guy honked at us yet again! When we looked back at him, the guy is frantically waving at Sophie, clearly inviting her to join him in his car. At this point our car arrived and we climbed inside, trying to look graceful and classy doing it, but failing miserably. Those Mustangs are low to the ground, and there is no way in hell to get in and out of it in a lady like fashion. As the doors close, Sophie looks over at me, and looking maybe just a little bit wistful.
“You know, I think that’s the first time anyone has ever hit on me!”
“No kidding?! Well congratulations!” I told her, and we both laughed as I drove up the ramp toward the street that was STILL being blocked by the love struck Taxi driver. Finally getting the message, the man did eventually move his car so we could leave.
By the time we got back to my hotel, Sophie got washed up and on her way home, and I got washed up and packed, it was about 3:30 AM. It’s funny, poor Sophie spent half the night apologizing that her plans for karaoke had gone wrong. She seemed mortified that the night had not gone entirely as she had planned, and yet I had an absolute ball. To spend an evening with friends, gathered around a grand piano with someone that knows how to play it, was nothing short of magic to me. It was an AWESOME night!




In about four hours the alarm went off, and I was absolutely hating the world. Up way too late, drinking way too much, and with way too little sleep, I headed to the airport in boy mode to meet with yet another friend from the Philly area – Jenny! Jenny and I have traded countless emails and messages over the last couple of years, and I’ve found her to be a lot of fun to chat with. She has always struck me as being a reasonable person and with a great sense of humor. She also happens to be good friends with Missy and Anne and Sophie, and so I’ve wanted to meet her in person myself for some time now. Apparently the feeling was mutual, because she went to a great deal of effort to rearrange her work schedule to allow her to meet me at the airport for an hour or so before my flight. Considering that she is a pilot for one of the airlines, the airport was a fairly convenient place to meet!
As I made my way through security my head was pounding and I was utterly miserable as I gathered my things from the belt of the X-ray machine and found a bench to put my stuff back away. Soon I had my act back together, stood up, and entered the terminal proper, and even though we were both in boy mode, it only took a second to identify each other. There stood a pilot, in full dress uniform, and he was grinning like a kid in a candy store as he started walking toward me. I tried to smile back but I’d wager that it came out more like a pathetic and lopsided grimace instead. As we approached I had wanted to hug her, thinking of the many amusing messages we had traded over the last year or so, but this was her work place and I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, so we just shook hands as I suppose guys are supposed to do.
“You look so very official and professional!” I said with a grin. He’s a good looking guy, with a happy face, and eyes that sparkle like an 18 year olds. I’m not “in” to guys, but there was just something adorable as all hell about the impish face and eyes staring out from under the captains hat.
“You know I wore this damn thing just for you!” He said with a laugh. “I got all dressed up for meeting Kimberly, and you decide to show up in drab!”
“Ugggghhhh . . . I was out way too late with Sophie. There was no way in hell I was going to be able to get up early enough to fly pretty.” I told her.
“So how was your night doing karaoke with Sophie?” She asked with a smile. I started telling her about our evening, and with my head pounding, and my lack of sleep, it took me a moment to realize that she was trying to hand me something. I looked down and took the item clumsily, lifted it to examine it, and started to laugh so hard I thought my head was going to fall off. She had handed me a small travel pouch of Tylenol. It seems that she had suspected I might need it this morning!
We got breakfast and chatted about everything and nothing. She was every bit as personable, amusing, and likeable in person as she has always been in our electronic correspondences. I’d have to admit that I was ashamed and felt guilty that I was in such poor condition to meet her for the first time, especially considering the lengths she had gone to to make it possible.

In far too little time, we had to part ways when I had to board my flight. I very much look forward to a time when I can see her again, this time perhaps with my feeling a bit more like a human being and more like someone who deserves the sort of effort she went through to see me.

Denver

This week I went to the Denver area. Denver is sort of a mixed blessing for me because I lived here for a year while going to school on Lowery AFB and so I’m kind of familiar with the area, but I always tend to get pretty bad head aches when I come here. I couldn’t tell you why, but have had a bad head ache on almost every trip I’ve made here in the last few years.

Well, due to the customers requirements and needs, I had to fly very early in the morning and start working as soon as I got there, so I had to fly the old fashioned way – as Matthew. I guess I’ve gotten spoiled, because I HATE flying that way these days! So, up at 3AM, on a plane at 6AM, working with my customer at 830AM until 5PM. By the time the work day was done, so was I, and so I did nothing and went no where that night. The good news is that we had scheduled two days here but got all of the work and training done in one, and so the next day I had pretty much entirely to myself.


The following morning I decided to be good, and so I got caught up on a lot of paper work and field service reports I’d been getting behind on, and then visited the hotel exercise room for an hour where I continued the relentless battle of the bulge.

I’ve realized for at least two years now that I was in a fashion rut, but it never bothered me until recently. Virtually every outfit I wear is essentially identical, just in different colors and fabrics. I like interesting and unique skirts paired with solid blouses, preferably with short sleeves or no sleeves. I’ve found that the thicker knit tops (sweaters or sweater like) tend to flatter me, as they hide minor flaws like my fat sticking out of the top of a skirt, or bra lines, etc, etc. I now have (gasp!) thousands of pictures on my flickr page expressing this concept over and over, different colors in the top, different patterns on the skirt, but the same concept repeated in photo after photo. Well, I’m doing minor things these days to try and edge my way out of that rut. I’ve bought at least a dozen blouses of varying designs in the last few months, but I always end up shaking my head when I see it on me, and saying “nah, it’s just not me.”  Today I tried a new blouse I just bought and had the same initial reaction when I tried it on – “nah, it’s not me.” I actually started to take it off and put on one of the blouses I had brought with me as a backup just in case I decided I didn’t like this one, but this time I got stubborn with myself.
‘Hell no, you bought the damn thing now wear it! Everyone tells you that you are so damned brave, but your scared to death to try minor changes in your style. You’re such a coward! ’ I scolded myself. Feeling properly self-chastised, I left it on and gave it a spin, and in the end I was glad I had, because I decided I liked it.



I’m still experimenting with my foundation as well. I’ve had several people tell me where I can buy more of my favorite Max Factor, but I figure that buying more of a discontinued product is just going to prolong the agony and drag things out. Sooner or later, I’m going to have to find a replacement, so I might as well dig in and ‘git ‘er done’ now. This was taken with the MAC Studio Tech NW25 Foundation:



I am fairly pleased with it, but HATE the idea of paying $30 every time I buy foundation. Call me a cheap red-neck, but that is fairly expensive for my budget.

I went to see two movies – ‘Knight and Day’ and the new Twilight Saga ‘Eclipse’.  I thoroughly enjoyed ‘Night and Day’. It was very reminiscent of ‘Mr. and Mrs. Smith’, another movie I had thought was hilarious and fun. Fairly fast paced, lots of action, lots of humor, and just lots of fun.
I’d have to be honest, I could take or leave ‘Eclipse’. It was fairly good, don’t get me wrong, but I enjoyed ‘Knight and Day’ more. The guy that plays her werewolf love interest spent the entire movie with no shirt on, and every time he had a scene, all of the girls in the audience would sigh and giggle. I swear I’m not kidding or exaggerating, every single time he made an appearance, all of the girls would gasp. That’s OK though, because there was plenty of eye candy for those of us that like girls too.
As I was leaving the theater, I had to walk past a group of half a dozen baby hotties all standing outside the theater entrance, squealing, laughing, and sighing, as they all spoke about the movie. I’d guess that most were around 16, but in all honesty it has gotten harder and harder for me to estimate the age of people younger than I am these days. I often seem to have trouble telling the difference between a 15 year old and a 25 year old – guess I’m getting old! Anyway, here were all of these drop dead gorgeous teenagers blocking the doors, and when I made my way past them, I heard one of them comment about me in a reasonably quiet voice, but not exactly a whisper either.
“Oh my God, I think that’s a guy!” she said. It wasn’t a tone of disgust, it wasn’t indignation, nor was it laughter. She just sounded interested and surprised.
“I know!” I heard another girl answer her, with a tone of voice that sort of implied “isn’t that cool?!”
I seriously considered turning around and winking at them and maybe even striking up a conversation, but in the end I was a coward. Right now they sounded tickled and amused, but let a 40 year old guy in a skirt turn around and wink at them, and things had the potential to go downhill rapidly, so I just left it alone.
I called Datti Kapella, a member of the Vanity Club. She lives around here and had expressed interest in meeting while I was here. It seems she had some home renovation to do, and was at a self help store looking for supplies. She had already eaten dinner, but still she agreed to meet me at Mimi’s Café in about an hour for coffee and so off I went to find the place. The waitress was sort of a happy medium dealing with me. She didn’t gush, wasn’t overly chatty and friendly, but didn’t give me the impression that she really hated dealing with me either. Suddenly I realized that I hadn’t eaten a single thing all day long and I was starving!



I was just finishing stuffing my face with pasta when I got a call on my cell phone that Datti and her wife were both here! They joined me at the table and we spoke for about an hour about this and that. It seems that we have both lived in Germany, Washington state, and of course the Denver area, but never at the same time. It also turns out that Datti is a musician, but unlike my own underachieving self, Datti is in a band. I miss being in a band because there is just nothing like being able to share music with others.  We had much to chat about, and since Datti is a very pleasant person, the time went by in a flash.

Indianapolis

  
    

I used to visit a customer of ours in the Indianapolis area three days out of each month, but it has been quite a while now since I’ve been there. Having spent so much time there, at one point I had gotten to know Indy quite well and so I really kind of looked forward to visiting it.

As I was going to be spending the better part of two weeks there, I packed my suite case to the bursting point with outfits. You know, it takes a lot of clothes when your carrying two wardrobes for a two week stretch! It was while packing for this 10 day trip that I realized my wardrobe is seriously flawed – I have very few tops for hot weather. Most of my things are for colder climates, with thick fabrics and high necks. I went through my closet pulling out all of the tops that I thought might be reasonably cool, and then tried to match them up with skirts. One thing I hope I wont regret is that I am carrying a lot of new outfits – things I haven’t tried before. That means I am running the risk of finding out that I brought a lot of clothes that may not fit or look right. I guess we’re gonna see!

In a serious change of pace for me, I decided to wear a dress for the flight out! As a general rule, dresses don’t tend to flatter me. As a result of having your typical male body, I have relatively small “hips” and a large chest, and when I say chest, I do NOT mean breasts! This means that I wear a size 8 to 10 skirt but am stuck with a size 12 to 14 top. Finding a dress, a single garment, that flatters both ends of me is a bit tough. Anyway, I bought this dress about a year ago but have never worn it, so I figured that it was time to give it a spin, and I’m glad I did! It was the first time in probably a year or so that I actually felt pretty, and so that of course made it all worth the while.

Checking in with Delta at the Austin airport, the customer service rep was a man that I have not dealt with before. As he was checking me in, my favorite Delta CSR walked over just to say hello. Since day one, this lady has always gone out of her way to be nice to me and has always had a kind word, and this morning was no different.
“Well good morning!” she said with a huge smile.
“Good morning to you too! How are you doing?” I asked.
“Fine, thank you for asking. It’s so nice to see you flying with us more often again.” “Well, I like Delta the best, but my company keeps putting me on US Airways for some reason. I guess that US Airways must be cheaper or something.” I told her.
“You know, I saw you checking in and just had to come over and tell you that you look fantastic today. Your hair looks absolutely perfect and just shines!” she gushed at me.
“Awe . . .thanks! You just made my day! You know, you can buy this very hair yourself if you wanted to!” I told her with a grin on my face, and while twirling a bit of my hair in my finger. She was still laughing as I waved goodbye and headed for the security check point.

I had almost missed my last flight out of Austin because I got too cocky and showed up to the airport with just barely enough time to get through the long security line. This time I was taking no chances though and got the airport my customary two hours early, and that gave me quite a bit of time to wait in the airport. I was sitting in the food court area and completing my field service reports on my laptop when I noticed a female TSA agent sitting across the table looking at me, so I looked up and smiled at her. I would prefer the TSA folks thought of me as a person rather than just a cross dresser, so I took the plunge and said something to her.
“So it seems that Monday mornings are always going to be crazy around here from now on huh?” I asked her.
“Wow, you sure aren’t kidding! These lines are getting longer and longer every Monday morning.” She replied. While she spoke, she was taking some fruit out of a paper bag that appeared to contain her breakfast.
“It used to be that there were no lines at all to speak of if you had an early morning flight outta here. Not anymore though!” I told her with a grin.
“Only on Mondays dear, only on Mondays.” She said while shaking her head.



The flight attendant stepped up and spoke to me as I started to walk past her while boarding the plane. “Honey, that dress is SO cute!” “Thank you! Cute is good right?” I replied with a grin. “Oh yeah, cute is definitely good.” She said while patting me on the shoulder. On the flight, I watched a movie on my IPOD called “The Road”. It is about a father and son making the trek south to warmer climates in a post apocalyptical world. I strongly recommend that you NOT watch this movie. It was well done, and well acted, that is not my complaint. My complaint is that there was nothing but horrific sadness to the movie. There were no bright cheerful parts in it. There was nothing redeeming to it. It was just minute after minute of harsh and extreme sadness and at the very end I sat in my chair almost sobbing at the despair of it all.

When I got to Indianapolis, I raided a Goodwill near the airport on my way to my hotel. A tiny woman was behind the counter when I entered, and greeted me warmly. Soon, she was hanging clothes up on a rack near me, and we could both hear a woman a few feet away loudly talking on her phone.
”Honey, I’ve had it with this place. I want to go back to Texas big time.” the woman was saying. I let out a little laugh, finding it ironic that she wanted to be where I had just left. The lady hanging up clothes next to me looked up at my laugh so I explained.
“I just left Texas this morning and it is HOT there. I’ve got to tell you, I’d rather be here, because it’s like being in the air conditioning to me.”
“No kidding? Where at in Texas?” she asked.
“The Austin area.”
“That’s a GREAT place! My cousin went to school at UT and I visited with her for a week and loved the place!”
“Oh yeah, I like Austin just fine, but it gets hot there!” I told her with a laugh.

I couldn’t really put my finger on “why”, but traveling by air tends to be kind of exhausting. I mean, if you really look at it, it’s not terribly physically demanding, but somehow I’m almost always worn out by the time I get to where I’m going.




It was around 4PM by the time I got to my hotel, and I was tired and done for the day. I had rented a room with a full kitchen so that I wouldn’t have to eat at restaurants every night for the next two weeks, but now I needed to go get food to stock it up with. I got cleaned up and returned to being Clark Kent . . .err. . . Matt, and headed out to the grocery store.

As I entered the store, I couldn’t help noticing that the skies were looking dark and ominous but I really didn’t pay it too much attention, at least not until I was standing in the check out line listening to people all around me talking about spinning clouds and the possibility of Tornados. How ironic would that be, for me to leave Tornado Alley in central Texas and then get hit by a Tornado in Indianapolis?!



The next morning I headed off for work. I’m in Indianapolis to cover for a service contract we have with a large customer in that area while our engineer takes vacation. This is the guy that I trained a couple of years ago and so we know each other fairly well and he was honest with me – this week is gonna be a cake walk. Apparently he spends the morning waiting around just in case they have problems and call him. If they don’t call by about noon, he is free for the day! It sounds like he and I are both going to be on vacation, and that’s OK with me. I’ve been running hard lately and could use the chance to slow down and catch my breath for a bit. Somewhere around 1PM, we called it a day, and I headed out on the 40 minute drive back up to Indy and my hotel.

Did you know that some idiot placed an outlet mall between Indianapolis where I'm staying, and Columbus where I'm working? I told the car not to do it, but suddenly it veered off of the highway and into the mall despite my objections. One of the stores I found there that was awesome was called the VF Outlet, VF standing for Vanity Fair. They had lots of neat stuff at like $5 to $10 including some really awesome and beautiful bras for $7. I bought a couple of them, and a few cotton tops and camisoles. Hopefully the cotton tops are a going to be a good start toward resolving my lack of warm weather clothing.

That evening the skies once again looked dark and forbidding as I entered the hotel carrying my bags purchased treasures. As the sun was saying good night to the world, I was in the exercise room trying to fight the battle of the bulge to be sure I could fit in the things I had bought. As I was peddling away on the stationary bike, the skies opened up and unloaded an ocean of water onto the face of the world. It was truly awe inspiring the way the rain was coming down so heavy. I had intended to go out and sing karaoke tonight but now I started having second thoughts about it. Fortunately by the time I was done exercising it had slowed down to just a normal rain storm, and was no longer of biblical proportions, so I decided I would go ahead and go out after all.

I had been back in my room for not more than five minutes when the room was filled with an ear piercing wail that almost caused me to jump out of my skin. It took a moment for my brain to engage before I realized that it was the fire alarm. I’ve been through several fire alarms in hotels and wasn’t about to get too excited. Especially in hotels where the guests have kitchens and do their own cooking, you can pretty much count on someone somewhere blowing it and setting off the smoke detector. Sure enough, it was just a guest cooking, and so soon, things returned to normal, and I started putting my makeup on. So there I am, standing in front of the mirror setting my foundation with powder when the lights and air conditioning go off and the entire room is plunged into pitch black.
“What the hell is it now?!” I asked myself, looking around and trying to see anything inside the dark room. I figured that the storm had temporarily knocked the power out and it would probably be back on in just a few minutes, and so I sat down and waited . . . and waited. . . and waited . . . Thirty minutes later, it was becoming clear that the power was not going to be coming right back on, and so it was time to either give up getting ready or to improvise. I used the back light of my cell phone to give me enough light to make my way to my tool box, where I found my flashlight. You know, sometimes it does come in handy to carry a toolbox!




This flashlight is kind of cool, because it has a very strong magnet in its base that allows you to attach it to any metal surface. Lucky for me, the door frames here are steel, and so soon my flashlight was attached to the door frame, and I had just enough light to put my makeup on with. You just haven’t lived until you try to put on eye liner with a flashlight! A couple of hours or so later, I was ready, so I grabbed my umbrella, and my flashlight, and headed out the door. I had a real giggle moment when I realized that I was in four inch heels and on the fifth floor of a hotel with no power for elevators. Have you ever done five flights of stairs in heels before? It wasn’t as bad as you might think, and to be honest, I grinned like an idiot the entire way down.

As I got to the lobby, I found it crowded with guests who were all socializing near the open doors. The same lady that had checked me in the night before was at the desk and waved at me as I was walking by.
“Well let’s see! Fire alarms and fire trucks followed by a complete power loss for hours. I’ll give y’all this much, it aint boring around here!” I quipped as I walked by, and was gratified with the sound of her laughter.





I made my way to “The Metro”, a local club that has great Karaoke twice a week. I used to do karaoke a lot, almost every time I traveled in fact, but I haven’t done much of it lately, and so found myself just a bit intimidated. Still, I got up there and was pleased to hear a couple of complimentary comments, so I guess I must have done OK. I was sitting by myself and was feeling kind of lonely, and so I texted Gina, one of my friends here in Indy. I told her it was kind of boring and sad to be there all by myself, and was pleased to get her response: “I’ll be there in few minutes!” Yay! Soon, Gina came walking through the door in boy mode, and so we sat there and chatted for an hour or so.







The following day I was off of work early again, and decided that I would go looking for a replacement for my current makeup foundation. I use Max Factor pan Stik and absolutely love the stuff. The bad news is that Max Factor has stopped selling products in the United States, and so you can’t get it anymore. You know, your average guy just wouldn’t understand the huge anxiety I feel at the thought of looking for a new foundation. A good foundation is critical to good appearance, to confidence, and thus to passing. To have found a great foundation and then have it go unavailable was just nerve wracking. Today I was wearing a liquid foundation by Maybelline - Super Stay Honey Beige.



As I was putting it on, I really didn’t think it was going to work very well. It seemed kind of dark and when I was applying powder over it, it seemed that the powder was not blending with the foundation, but riding on top of it instead, in a distinct and different layer. Still, it looked OK and so I headed out to the mall.

I started in Macy’s because it is my favorite department store. I often buy clothing and shoes there, but have never looked for makeup, so I probably looked lost as I wandered through the cosmetic department. In nothing flat though, there is a woman approaching me to help. One constant in department stores is that the customer service in the cosmetics departments are ALWAYS eager to help.
“Welcome to Macy’s! Can I help you dear?” she asked me. She was bright and bubbly, and it was clear that her welcome was a sincere one, and so I started to feel a little more comfortable. I dug through my purse and pulled out my pan stick foundation and showed it to her.
“Max Factor has stopped selling this so I need to find a replacement for it” She took it from me and started to turn away and walk towards one of the many counters.
“Let’s start here, because they are having a promotion and giving away freebies!” she said, giving me a wink over her shoulder.
“Free is good! I LIKE free!” I told her with a laugh as I followed her. The lady at the first counter took one look at it and shook her head ‘no’.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t have any sticks at all. You might try MAC?” she said, pointing to the MAC counter a couple of yards away. I thanked her and the lady that had first greeted me, and then headed over to the MAC counter.

Somehow I had known all along I’d end up there, because it seems that everyone who talks about cosmetics just raves about MAC, and I’ve heard over and over that they are very friendly to transgendered folks. Still, I’ve never been the type to jump on a band wagon just because it’s popular, and so I had thus far avoided MAC. There were two women working the counter and both were giving makeovers.
“Give me just a moment, and I’ll be happy to help you.” She said with a smile, briefly looking up from the woman she is working on.
“No worries, I’m in no hurry at all so please take your time.” I responded. While I waited, I looked at the women both working and shopping in the cosmetics department. One woman was so skinny I was pretty sure my thigh was wider than her entire waist. I wasn’t sure if I envied her for being that skinny or not. Skinny I like just fine and wish I were afflicted with the condition, but I think an ideal woman should have some weight for curves on her. Undecided about my opinion on the size 2 woman, I continued to observe the other women around me. I was just starting to work myself up to a serious inferiority complex when the sales associate finished what she was doing and walked up to me.
“And how can I help you ma’am?” she asked me. I handed her my Pan Stick and explained my needs to her, and was immensely relieved to hear her say she was fairly certain they did have something very much like it. She looked up at me and studied my face for a moment, then held the stick up.
“Is this what your wearing now?” she asked.
“No, I’m experimenting and trying a liquid foundation by Maybelline.” I told her, and then opened my purse to try and show it to her. I was a real class act, head bent over, peering and fumbling through all of the stuff in my purse, when my glasses slid off of my face and fell in to the open purse. I laughed, trying to cover my embarrassment, and did eventually find the foundation, and lifted it to show it to her.
“This is what I used today. I can’t put my finger on exactly what’s wrong with it, but I know it doesn’t look quite right . . .” I started telling her when she actually interrupted me.
“You know, I’ve got to disagree with you. I think it looks perfect on you. The color suites your face and it looks great!” she told me with the serious tone of a professional speaking on her subject of expertise.
“Well thanks! You do this for a living so maybe I shouldn’t be so hasty in discarding it!” I told her with a laugh.
“Nah, it looks great. OK, let’s see if we can find what your looking for!” She said, beckoning me forward with a wave of her hand. She took a sample off of my stick and smeared it across her hand, and then did the same thing with samples from two of her sticks. One of them was a perfect match and I swear I almost gasped in relief. Now I knew that I could get something like my own reliable foundation. There was only one major question now.
“So, umm, how much does it cost?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer.
“That’s $29.” She said, holding up a much smaller stick than my Max Factor.
“OUCH! I guess I was spoiled because the Max Factor was only $8.” I told her with a grimace.
“I know, but you can’t get it anymore can you?” she said with a grin.
“You got me there!” I replied, but I still hesitated. Maybe I’m just a poor hillbilly, but $29 for a small stick really is kind of expensive to me.
“Tell you what, why don’t I give you a couple of samples so you can test them and decide on the one you like the best?” she asked.
“That would be awesome! Thank you so much!” She scooped samples out of two different foundations and scrapped them in to two little glass containers that she then labeled “NW25 Stick” and “NW25 Tech”.
“OK, so give these a shot and see which works the best for you. You can take these to any MAC counter and they will know exactly what you want.” She told me with a huge smile.
“You rock! I’ve always heard great things about MAC and I’m glad to see that it is true. Thank you so much!” I left Macy’s walking on a cloud. It was expensive, but I HAD found a replacement for my foundation AND the professional had said that I looked great! It just doesn’t get any better than that!



Feeling most pleased with myself, I decided to go see a movie, and found that “The A Team” was just about to start. I had loved the series when I was a kid, and thought the movie might well be a lot of fun, and so I bought my ticket. It was every bit as silly as the TV series had been. Way over the top and utterly unrealistic, but I didn’t care. It was fun, and it passed the time.



Thursday, I once again prepared to go back to the Metro for Karaoke. This time I was trying one of the MAC samples I had received yesterday, the “NW 25 Stick” sample. It was kind of a pain digging it out of the small sample container, but I managed. I noticed that it didn’t feel anywhere near as greasy as the Max Factor, and I also noticed that my powder seemed to blend better with it than it had with the Maybelline. All in all, I think that it will do fine, but I’m not going to go buy it just yet, because I still need to try the other sample she gave me first. As I got settled at the Metro, I noticed an older woman with red hair. She has been at the Metro for Karaoke every single time I’ve been there and so I have chatted with her quite a bit over the last few years. She likes to sing show tunes and does a great job, not just with the singing, but with the performing. Clearly she has been a performer and is quite good at getting the crowd involved.



When she finished a song, I went over to her table and knelt down to talk to her.
“I love it when you get up there. You sing so well, and seem to have so much fun. You know, if your this much fun drinking coffee, I’d love to see you after a drink.” I told her with a grin, pointing at the cup of coffee in front of her.
“Oh, thank you so much!” she said patting my hand, and then she leaned closer to speak confidentially. “Honey, I’m a recovering alcoholic. Believe me, you DON’T want to see me with a drink in me.”
“I’m so sorry! There I was trying to be funny and instead I’ve put both of my feet in my mouth!” I apologized.
“Not at all dear, you had no way to know! You know, the first time I saw you here a few years ago I thought you were a woman, and I was shocked when you started to sing. I was shocked because it surprised me that you weren’t a woman and then shocked again when I realized you had a wonderful voice!”
Awe . . .

On my first song, I had apparently chosen someone’s favorite song, because a cute girl from the crowd ran up to me and started “singing” with me. I put that in quotes, because she was terrible and singing so loud in my ear that I couldn’t hear myself, and so I was all over the place. It was a crash and burn moment, and I wanted to kick her down the stairs, but about mid way through, she backed off, and I managed to get back to something close to the right key. I know I probably came across as a snob, but she really irritated the hell out of me. Still, I tried to give her a smile as I walked off of the stage in shame.
They didn’t have anything like the crowd tonight that they had had Tuesday night, so I got several more chances to redeem myself, and did a pretty fair version of “Hooked on a feeling”. Toward the end of the evening, a young couple sat next to me, and I could hear them kind of critiquing every one that sang. The guy blushed every time I glanced at him or spoke to him. I’m not sure if he was kind of embarrassed to speak to a cross dresser or what, but it was clear he wasn’t entirely comfortable speaking to me. The beautiful woman sitting with him, on the other hand, had no reservations at all in speaking to me and we chatted it up for some time. She reminded me of the “cool” girls in high school, probably not the cheerleader type, but one of the cool and tough girls that would be found in the parking lot smoking cigarettes or worse. You know, the type of girl that most didn’t mess with because you knew damn good and well she wouldn’t hesitate to throw down and try and kick your ass. Funny, she would never have spoken to me as Matthew, but somehow as Kimberly I rated a conversation.



“You know, your hair is just fabulous!” she said with a matter of fact tone of voice. “Thank you!” I said, feeling most flattered. All it had taken me was 30 years and a good wig to get one of the cool girls to pay attention and notice me.
“Farrah Fawcett right?” she asked a moment later.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked, because I wasn’t sure what she had said or meant.
“Your hair, that’s like Farrah Fawcetts right?” she repeated and expanded.
“I hadn’t really thought about it, but I suppose it is.” I replied. I couldn’t decide if I should be offended or not. First she had said it looked awesome, but then she made it clear that it was WAY out of date and style. In the end I decided it didn’t matter. I like this style and in the end that is all that matters.
About ten minutes later, a couple got up to do a duet – “Suddenly Seymour” from “Little Shop of Horrors”. They did a great job and it tickled the hell out of me to hear it again. As I was listening to it, something struck me and so I let out a short laugh. “Cool Girl” across the table looked at me with the question on her face.
“Sorry, it just struck me though! This song was popular about the same time my hair style was!” I said, gently tugging at my hair. We all had a good laugh at my expense. Hey, it’s either laugh or cry, and I’ll take laughing all day and twice on Sunday.




Friday and Saturday I just couldn’t find any interest or enthusiasm for doing the girl thing. Instead of cross dressing, I went on a tour of Goodwill thrift stores in the region, and let me tell you, there are a LOT in the Indy area. In a little bit of good news versus bad news, all of the Goodwills where having a half off of everything in the store sale. The good news is that anything I might want was going to be half off. The bad news is, apparently word was out, because every store I went to was crowded and packed. The first one I entered was so packed, and with lines so long, I literally turned right around and walked back out. I couldn’t imagine finding anything in there that I would want bad enough to stand in line for an hour for. I literally spent more than eight hours traveling from Goodwill to Goodwill, and by the end of the day, I had very little to show for the effort. I found maybe four tops, and several camisoles. Not a lot of return on the time invested, but still, it had passed the day. Sunday was a day full of blunders for me. Still finding no enthusiasm for getting dressed up, I spent the day in my room watching TV, writing this blog, cruising the internet, and doing my laundry. At noon I decided to stretch my cooking skills and make some Mac and cheese and hamburger. Everything was moving along fine until it came time to drain the noodles and I discovered that there was no strainer in the kitchen. I figured it was no big deal and just tipped the pan over the sink with the lid still on it, allowing the water to drain that way. Soon though, the lid got too hot to handle, and so I had to set the pot down and get a towel to use as a pot holder. I was tipping the noodles over the sink again . . . and it slipped . . . “DAMN IT!” I yelled at the world, watching in disgust as all of my noodles slide down the garbage disposal. I was hoping against hope that there would be enough left in the pan to have SOME, but no, the pan was empty. In the end, I made a box of hamburger helper. Yumm . . . Next I headed down to the laundry room to wash some of my things and all of the new stuff I had bought. With out thinking, I put the new red and pink tops and camisoles in the laundry.
I’ll bet you can guess where this is going already, huh?
Sure enough, when the load was done and I went to remove it from the washing machine, I found that the two pair of guy socks I had washed were now pink, as was the bright white bra I had also washed. I had a yellow and white stripped shirt in there as well, and it was now pink and yellow stripes. Shaking my head in disgust at my own stupidity, I removed the red and pink tops that had caused the disaster, put soap back in the machine, and washed the load again. Half an hour later, when I returned again to put them in the dryer, I stood in disbelief looking at the glass front of the washing machine. The load was done, the washing machine stopped, and it was still absolutely full of soap. The entire glass front of the machine was a solid wall of white soap suds. I opened the door and reached through the wall of soap and grabbed something at random, and tugged it out of the machine. Dropping huge clumps of soap all over the floor, there I held in my hands a pink sock. Not only had washing it all again done nothing to help, but I had apparently used too much soap, causing the situation I now faced. You know, I had to wash that load two more times to get the damned soap out? Good news though! The socks and bra are still pink, but I think that my shirt is OK. Well, the way my luck was going, it would clearly be insane to risk leaving my room. I might get hit by a derailed train, struck by a falling satellite, crushed by a submarine – God only knows. Anyway, I chose to stay in the room for the night rather than risk it. . .



The next day I had to take a safety briefing with the customer I was working at. Typical large company brilliance. They let me work there the entire week without this safety certification and then want me to get it the day before I stop working there. Oh well, off to class I went. It’s funny how quickly some of the old Army bearing and posture returned when I found myself among all these huge and ultra macho type guys. Suddenly I was standing up straight, puffing my chest out, sucking in the gut, and trying to look just as mean as everyone else. So the guy giving the class was kind of a hard nose, I guess you have to be when it’s your job to make all of these tough guy vendors and contractors follow your safety rules. He started off by telling us all that he was known for being blunt. “. . . and if that offends anyone here, that’s just too damned bad.” He then followed with a long list of things that would get you in to trouble.

“If you do THIS I will throw you off our property. If you do THAT I will throw you AND your entire company off of our property. If you even think about sexual harassment. . . come one guys, this is 2010. . . . first strike and your toast. That includes whistles . . . “

An hour and a half more of this and he was calling each of us into a small office for photographs and badges. You know me, I couldn’t resist being a smart ass.
“So about being blunt . . . “ I said as I followed him into the badge room. He stopped in his tracks and turned to look at me with one eye almost closed.
“Yeah?” he asked, clearly getting ready for trouble.
“Personally I like ‘blunt’. You get to the point faster AND with less room for misunderstanding. I like blunt, blunt is good!” I told him with a grin. He just let out a laugh and continued walking. As we entered the room, a woman about my own age was behind the desk with your typical setup for taking pictures used for badges. A stool in the corner, a digital camera, a couple of light umbrellas, and she beckoned for me to take the stool. As I sat there, I couldn’t help wondering of those light umbrellas would make my vain little photographs look any better.
Getting bored, I decided to mess with the lady behind the desk.
“You know, I think it’s only fair to warn you that I have a detrimental affect on cameras.” I told her.
“Detrimental?” she asked, looking up from her PC to look at me.
“Yeah, I break ‘em!” I told her with a wink. They both started laughing, like it was the first time they had heard that one. Another minute and she looks up again.
“I’m so sorry, give me just a minute. Something’s not working but I’ll figure it out!” she said.
“HAH! I told you I’d break it, but did you listen? No, because nobody ever pays any attention to me . . .” I told them while rolling my eyes. This time they both cut loose with genuine laughter. In a moment she had it figured out.
“Ok, I’m ready so give me a smile. You wont know when the picture is taken because there wont be a flash.” She informed me.
“Oh, I’ll know when it’s taken all right.” I told her smugly.
“OK, how will you know when the picture is taken?” she asked me with a ‘I know your putting me on but I’ll play anyway’ smile.
“ ‘cause that will be when the smoke starts rolling outta your camera.” I told her trying to keep a straight face. It took her a split second before she started laughing so hard she couldn’t take the pic.
“Yeah, you laugh now, but just wait until your camera is toast.” In a moment she had her act back together and started peering hard at her screen, then me, then the screen.
“It just doesn’t look right. It looks like your squinting or something.” She told me.
“Look, I can’t help it of the bright lights are reflecting off my bald head and blinding your camera. If you have a marker we could draw hair on my head if that will help?” I asked her, trying to look sincere. Once again she started laughing so hard she couldn’t take the picture, so it took another moment or two before we were done. As they were printing the badge out, the safety guy looks at me, shakes his head, and then sticks out his hand to shake mine.
“You know, it’s nice to meet an instrumentation guy with a sense of humor. Most of ‘em are pretty serious.” He said, shaking his head in a ‘what a shame’ gesture.
“No kidding” And here I thought that being a smart ass was a requirement for working on instrumentation?! I’ve been doing it wrong all these years . . . “

Well, I did my job there for the rest of the day, being sure to sport my brand new safety qualification badge that was gonna be of use only for that very work day. By the time I ever have to come back down here to support this customer again, my safety qualification badge will be long since expired.

My drive back up from Columbus to Indianapolis was delayed by a wreck. You know, there always has to be one person that just doesn’t grasp the concept of “slippery when wet.”



Ultimately though I did get back to Indy though, and tried out the second sample I’d gotten from MAC. I didn’t really see a huge difference between the results I’d had with either MAC product or the Maybelline foundation I’d tried and so decided to hit up the MAC counter and ask a few silly questions. Questions like ‘what is the difference between the two samples you gave me? Why and how would I choose one over the other? What is the preferred way to apply these – sponge, finger, plunge my face into a vat of it?”



The lady I had dealt with was not there this time. Instead, I found a very nice gentleman who took a few moments to talk to me. The first thing he told me was that the pan stick the lady had let me sample was being discontinued. Thank God he told me that because I would have gone nuts if I’d gotten attached to it and it was already going to be unavailable! Next he told me that the best way to apply it was with a brush, and he held it up to show it to me. I was kind of surprised that you would put on such a heavy foundation with a brush but he assured me it worked great.
“Awesome! How much for the brush?” I asked him
“$45” he replied, and I choked.
“For the ONE brush?!” I asked in shock. He looked around and then leaned in close.
“I’ve seen them in Walmart for a LOT less!” he told me with a smile. I started laughing and thanked him profusely. Well, all made up, and no place to go, so once again I went to the movies.



This time I saw “Robin Hood”. It was a pretty good movie, as you would expect with Russell Crowe, and easily passed a couple of hours. As I pulled in to the hotel parking lot, I found a young woman literally staggering with her arms so full of shopping bags that she just managed to close her car door, and had no chance in hell of opening the hotel door, so I stepped in front of her and got the door for her.
“Clearly someone has been shopping!” I said with a grin.
“Oh yeah, big time!” she said with a giggle. “I had the day off and had to do something . . . “ This time I just about giggled.
“Yeah, I did the same thing this weekend.” I told her. It turned out she was going to the same floor I was and so we rode the elevator up. Just as the elevator stopped, I looked at her.
“Of course, now comes the hard part!” I said.
“Oh, what’s that?” She asked, gathering her dozen bags in her arms.
“Getting the bill!” I laughed.
“Nah,” she said, exiting the elevator and turning to look back over her shoulder at me. “That’s what husbands are for!”. DOH!



The next day I had to work with a different customer in the Indy area and by the time I was done, it was too late for doing the Kimberly thing. I did do a little more shopping though and found sort of a stealth bad girl dress. I say ‘stealth’ because it looked so prim and proper on the hanger and then when I tried it on, I discovered it was very cute and short. When I first saw it on the rack, I skipped right past it, thinking it was kind of old ladyish. Something about it kind of nagged at me though and so I went back to get another look at it and ultimately I bought it. I think we will keep this one for night clubs, or maybe wear it as a blouse, because I’m pretty sure it is too short to wear all day on a trip. I’d spend the entire day worried about who was gonna see what!



For my flight home, I chose something a bit more appropriate and I almost wish I hadn’t. Let’s face it, the short flirty dress made me feel cute and maybe a little scandalous. The outfit I flew home in really didn’t.

Back to Boston!

In a rare turn of events I found myself going right back to Boston for training again. It seems that we are still dealing with the fall out resulting from the actions of the engineer that was fired recently. We will be installing a new system there soon, and I have never seen this new model. While I could have figured it out on my own, we kind of figured it would be a bad idea to risk letting the customer see me struggle while I learned. At the last moment, my manager arranged to have the factory agree to train myself and one other engineer on the system so as to be sure that the customer didn’t perceive us as being less than knowledgeable on this new model.



As seems to be the usual these days, nothing terribly interesting or exciting happened on the flight there. I almost blew it catching the flight for a number of reasons. One, I’m getting awful tired of getting up so early and so had decided that maybe I was being silly for getting to the airport two hours early. This time I timed things to get there one hour before my flight and so you can just imagine the look on my face when I entered the airport and found the security line snaking clear across the entire length of the airport!  Even with my being allowed to use the “premium” passenger lane to get through security, I just barely made my flight.
The lady that sat next to me in first class from Atlanta to Boston liked to chat and so we did. It turns out that she is some sort of medical consultant and flies back and forth from Florida to Boston every single Monday and Friday. What a trip! Someone out there flies more than I do! We traded good and bad stories of our travels and just generally enjoyed each others company.

When I checked in to my hotel, conveniently located across the highway from the Burlington Mall, the customer service rep was a young and cute girl. As soon as I approached the counter she got a huge grin on her face and turned beet red. Still, she was cool and soon I was off to my room.

The first thing I did was to take my new wig out that I had just had the bangs trimmed on, and see what it looked like. I worked on it for a while, got it styled the way I liked it, and then stood back to take a look. For the life of me, I couldn’t decide if it suited me or not! The style was very close to my current wig, but the color is much lighter and with a slight red tint. I looked and looked and looked at it, and just couldn’t decide if it was going to work for me or not.




Realizing that I wasn’t going to make my mind, I went ahead and cleaned up and headed out grocery shopping to fill the empty kitchen in my suite. Isn’t that an odd concept for a lot of people? I’m so sick of restaurants that I would rather cook my own meal. If you knew how bad my cooking is, you would appreciate the desperation behind that comment.

The good news is that the other engineer that was here for the same training was apparently a bit of a prima donna. He checked in to the same hotel where I was staying, took a look around his room, decided it wasn’t good enough for him, and checked right back out. I wasn’t gonna have to worry about him seeing me coming and going if I went out! In the end though, it didn’t matter, because I spent both of the next two days working too late to bother getting dressed up when I got back to the hotel. I DID take the time to walk through the mall drab though, and found a bright yellow top at Macy’s on sale for $8! My wife has insisted that yellow is a no-no with my complexion, but another Tgirl I know on the vanity club has the same complexion I have, and she looked stunning in it. I figured that $8 was worth the experiment!

Thursday it was time to head back home to Austin. The skirt I had chosen to wear was the one I mentioned a couple of blogs back. When I first saw it, I thought it was terrible! It was gold, with a complex texture, and a foot long ruffle around the bottom. Still, something about it kept nagging at me and I went back and looked at it twice. The second time I figured it out! The long ruffle was pushing it over the edge in to ridiculous. If it didn’t have that stupid ruffle, it would be killer! So I bought it and took it to be cleaned and altered, and they did a fantastic job. I was so relieved to try it on and see that it did indeed look awesome after having the ruffle removed.



I swapped hair back and forth, over and over, trying to decide if I should stick with my tried and true favorite, or go with the new wig that I still wasn’t sure I liked. In the end, I made myself wear the new hair, thinking that maybe I just needed to get used to seeing it on me. The more I looked at it through the day, the more I liked it, and now at the end of the day I’ve decided to keep it. I think my indecision is just that it’s different.

On the flight home I struck up a conversation with the flight attendant, who was sitting not more than 4 feet from me. She had very curly and bright red hair, and had it put up in the back, with a couple of long curly locks loose in front – think Nicole Kidman. So I was looking at her hair and thinking how adorable she looked, and also checking out what colors she was using for makeup, when she looked up and caught my eye.
“OK, I’ve got to tell you that your hair is utterly adorable!” I told her. Her face lit up like a 100 watt light bulb and she gave me a heart stopping smile.
“Thank you! I tell you though, I had to get out of Boston – the humidity was messing it all up!” she told me, reaching to push the curls out of her eyes.
“You know, I don’t have that particular problem!” I said laughing, while playing at primping my own hair. That got a genuine laugh from her, so I kept yapping.
“Ya know, everyone is telling me that my hair is too ‘big’! I figure that I live in Texas and I’m supposed to have big hair!”