Nothing Happened

..    

Yet another trip to ....Detroit...., and this one with very little advanced notice. As has been the norm these days, my company booked me on a very early flight to save a few dollars and so yours truly had to get up at 2:45AM. Considering that I hadn’t got to bed until 11PM I wasn’t terribly enthusiastic when the alarm went off. Uggghhh . . . .

.. ..

I had intended to wear a short and multi-colored skirt that I had recently bought, but when I tried the damn thing on I found it was unacceptably tight. It hugged my behind to the point where I looked absurd and so I found myself sneaking back into my bedroom where my wife and daughter were still sound asleep and grabbing an alternative skirt. So I went from short and flirty, to prim and proper. I also decided to wear my new boots, but later came to regret that choice. I hadn’t thought that the heels on the boots were any taller than the heels on my pumps, but I hadn’t even got to the ....Austin.... check in counter before my calf muscles started to complain, and by the time my 10 hour travel day was over, they went from complaining to down right howling.

.. ..

Once again I made a trip with very little of any interest happening. No smiles, no grins, no frowns, no reaction at all from anyone. I still haven’t decided if it is cool that everyone is taking me in stride these days or if I’m kind of disappointed. After all, it used to make things interesting to see the way people reacted, and now things a re just kind of boring.

.. ..

In ....Detroit...., the Avis shuttle bus driver was a young woman, probably in her early twenties..

“Are you a preffered member ma’am?” She asked me as I boarded the bus.

“Yes ma’am, I am” I replied

“What’s your last name?” she then asked.

“Huddle,” I replied. OK, OK, I gave her my real last name, but using Huddle here simplifies things. So she gets back to her seat and starts punching keys on her mobile PC and speaking into her radio as she drives off for the lot. As we are driving I can hear her giving names to someone on her radio, and some she has to repeat over and over.

“Huddle, first initial M” I hear her say over and over. Clearly she has pulled me up on a list and knows my name and of course my gender. Still, as we approach the lot she starts to call of names and the parking spaces where our cars can be found. As she gets to my name I wanted to run up and hug her.

“Mrs Huddle, your car is in F20.” She says with a smile on her face and a grin in her eyes.

Such a simple thing on her part made such a huge difference to me. She had considered the ramifications of what I was, made the decision to respect that, and shown me the courtesy and respect of calling me “Mrs” in front of the other passengers. Yup, I damn near hugged that woman on my way off of the bus . . .

My Mustang

..
Well, today I bought a Holly 4 barrel carburetor and installed it on my 1967 Mustang. For the first time in about 6 months, and only the second time in three or four years, my old beauty purred again.
Now the bad news is that there was transmission fluid on the floor and she made not the slightest effort to move when I put her in gear. It was exactly as if she was still in neutral. When we had it out, we did replace the front and rear seals on it, but apparently something some where is still seriously wrong . . .

Stuck in Buffalo NY

.... 

    ..........................

Well, this trip started off with absolutely nothing of interest to write about. It had actually annoyed me that I was going to have to write a blog saying “I took a trip to Buffalo New York and nothing of any interest what so ever occurred. Here’s a couple of pics – have a nice day!”  Well, in the end it became a good deal more interesting. Isn’t there a Chinese curse something along the lines of “May you live in interesting times”?

It started off as so many before it did, with my getting up far too early so that I would have time to get ready, make the 40 minute drive to the airport, and be there two hours before my 7AM flight took off.

I shook things up just a little bit from my normal fashion and wore a fairly short skirt and a floaty and feminine top under my typical sweater. It wasn’t exactly a major departure from my norm, but hey. . .

As my introduction implied, nothing of any interest at all occurred on my flights to Buffalo.  No one made any cute comments, and no one went out of their way to either smile or frown at me.

There had been some fear that the bad weather in the North East might cause me some problems getting there, but that didn’t turn out to be an issue at all. Nope, nothing funny, sad, or bad happened, I just flew to Buffalo, checked in to my hotel, got some exercise, and called it a night – boring.

The next two days were hectic work days. This customer had badly damaged his instrument and was desperate to get it up and running quickly, and in an attempt to help him, my company had sent him a used part from our applications and research department – sort of a loaner to get him up and running while his was being rebuilt. Surprise surprise, the used part had it’s own problems and I wasted an entire day trying to make his instrument work with it, and then troubleshooting to determine that the part we had sent him was at fault. Tired and depressed, I had no urge at all to try and go out, and so just hit up a thrift store or two before calling it a night.

I had started to pack my things away for my flight to Detroit the following morning when I got an automated call from US Airways telling me that my flight was canceled due to the weather. Not delayed, not rebooked, but canceled, so I called the airline and they informed me that there was nothing they could do to get me out of Buffalo for two days! I was just about to just rent a car and make the 6 hour drive to Detroit (through a blizzard) when I got a call that my company was going to send another used part to this customer and so I was asked to go ahead and stay to install and set it up.

The following day rolled around and I received and installed the replacement used part just to find that it also had a serious but different problem. Of course it took me the entire day of trying to get it to work before I at last threw in the towel and admitted defeat. Once again emotionally exhausted from a day fighting a loosing battle, I had no interest in getting dressed up and heading out in the snow and cold. While I wasn’t about to spend the time and effort to get dressed up, I did decide to at least go shopping at the mall in boy mode. The first thing I had to do was find a bathrobe for my six-year-old daughter. You see on my last trip I had found one for myself and my daughter fell in love with it. She has her own bath robe, but it’s your standard terry cloth material, much like a bath towel. When she felt my robe she fell in love with it because it was so soft, and she’s been trying to steal if from me ever since. So anyway, I decided to try and find the critter a nice soft one that will make her smile, and incidentally, keep her from swiping mine! I found one in JC Penny AND it was on sale for like $8, so it was a win win. Next I headed down the mall to Macy’s, just a little amused that since I was in boy mode, not one kiosk attendant bothered me the entire length of the mall. In Macy’s, I hit up the shoe sales rack and was browsing through it when a gentleman took a pair of ladies shoes up to the SA. I can’t hear the entire conversation, but I do hear bits.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” the SA asks him. I can’t hear his response but I then hear her very softly ask another question, no doubt thinking that I can’t hear them.

“Are they for you?” she asks. Again I can’t hear his side of the conversation, but I can still hear hers.

“Well, you never know . . . no, I really didn’t think they were for you . . . just thought I’d ask to see if I can help” her side of the conversation goes on. Soon they are laughing and he leaves, and she and I are the only ones with in 50 feet or so.

“You know, that wasn’t as stupid a question as he might think!” I told her with a grin. “And yes, I am looking for boots for me.”  She gave me a great laugh and we sat and joked for a good five minutes before she started walking me around and showing me my options. Eventually we came across a pair that I really liked AND she had them in my size. I told her that I had been having a lot of trouble finding a pair that fit even when they are supposedly my size, and she just gave me a grin.

“Honey, you feel free to sit right here and try them on!” she told me with a smile from ear to ear, and you know what, I did! In the middle of Macy’s sat a tired bald guy trying on a pair of womens boots with 3.5 inch heels. That must have been a hell of a sight for anyone that noticed!

....

.. ..

The following day I got up at 3AM to get ready for my 7AM flight from Buffalo to Detroit I get my car all turned in and approach the US Airways counter where I can here the CSR telling the people in front of me that they have no options for flying today and should just go back home for a couple of days. Having heard that, it was with more than a little trepidation that I approached the counter when my turn came.

“Where does your first flight go hun?” she asked.

“To Philadelphia..” I replied, and she started shaking her head.

“And do you stop there, or are you going on somewhere?” she asked, her tone making it clear that I’m in trouble.

“I’m going on to Detroit.” I replied. Once again she shakes her head ‘no’.

“Not today your not. You need to just go home for a couple of days. We have nothing going out of here to Philly and all other destinations are already full.” She tells me with an awkward smile on her face, waiting for me to leave the counter and “go home”.

“Ma’am, I’d love to go home, but New York isn’t it and I can’t get home until your planes start flying! Your sure nothing is leaving today and I have no other options?” I asked.

“Well, your flight MIGHT leave today, but if it does, it’s going to be real late.” She said.

“Fine, I’ll take it. Please book me through then. I don’t care how late it gets there, I have to be in ....Detroit.... for a customer tomorrow” I told her. She kept shaking her head but did issue the ticket and sent me through.

.. ..

I was supposed to meet a few other TG’s in the Detroit area for dinner, so I sent them my third or fourth email of the last two days concerning my chances of making it there. The emails went something like this over the two day period:

“Yes, I’ll be there”

“My flights are canceled, I wont be there”

“Screw that, I’m renting a car and driving, so I will be there”

“My manager nixed that Idea, so I probably wont be there”

“Have a flight out in the morning and should make it!”

“Flights delayed – don’t know now”

Then I get an email from the others, more than likely irritated with my on again, off again situation:

“Dinner is canceled!”

.. ..

As the counter agent had predicted, my 7AM flight was seriously delayed. First to 8AM, then 830, 9, 930 and then 10AM when it finally boarded. Once sitting on the airplane, the pilot comes on and tells us that the Philly airport is still closed so we are going to have to wait another half hour . . . then another . . .  After more than an hour they pull the jet bridge back up and tell everyone that they can get off if they need to. I wasn’t about to risk that and remained seated, more or less taking a nap, and I was feeling pleasantly relaxed when they came over the intercom.

“If you are catching a connecting flight to Detroit, please grab your belongings and exit the air craft to see the gate agent about rebooking”. More than a little bummed out, I grabbed my things and went to see the agent at the gate, just to be told that I have to exit the secure area and go to the main counter. I fly a lot and know that this is bullshit, he CAN set us up with flight, but he just doesn’t want to deal with us, but what can you do? I headed out of the secured area, got in line at the front counter again, and wound up talking to the same lady I had spoken to that morning. She took one look at me and just started shaking her head again.

.. ..

“Hon, I don’t think there’s anything I can do to get you there today. Hold on just a second and I’ll take a look.” She is clearly overwhelmed and yet still trying to do her job. At this point, I’ve absolutely had it with the situation, and place a call to the lady that sets up my travel. While the US Airways CSR is shaking her head and looking for alternative flights, I get this young lady on the phone.

.. ..

“Hey, air travel is still all screwed up because of the storms and they can’t get me to Detroit for at least one and maybe two more days. Would you check and see if Avis has any rentals available that I can just drive there?” I asked her while looking at the US Airways CSR who is still punching keys and still shaking her head. From my phone I get an answer.

“Yeah, I can get you a car and it’s not that unreasonable either, just a bit more than the car in Detroit was going to cost you anyway.” She tells me.

“Well, by the time the airlines get me there, it’s going to be far too late to get the job done so why don’t you go ahead . . .” I start saying before I’m interrupted by the shouting CSR behind the counter.

“THEY TOLD YOU TO GET OFF THAT PLANE??!!” She practically yells at me, making it sort of an exclamation and a question all rolled in to one.

“Yes ma’am, they did.” I told her, trying to figure out why she was suddenly so excited.

“Well they were wrong! There IS a flight to Detroit from Philly and it leaves at 2PM. You need to get back on that plane!” I swear I’m not making this up, but just as she stopped speaking, I hear the announcement over the airport PA

“Flight 1845 for Philadelphia is ready for immediate departure.”

Guess what flight I was supposed to be on, had in fact been on and was told to leave, and that this CSR is now insisting I need to get back on even though I’m now on the wrong side of the security check point? You guessed it, that’s my flight already boarded and about ready to leave.

“Ma’am, are you SURE?” I asked her. This woman had been dealing with all of the travel nightmares resulting from all of the huge storms in the region, and clearly she was also at the end of her rope, and so was a bit blunter than she might normally have been.

“Honey, you need to get your ass on that airplane, and in a hurry!” She told me with a grin.

“Thank you!” I shouted to her, “Cancel the car!” I shouted in to my phone as I threw it in my purse, and off I ran for the security checkpoint. There was no real line to speak of, just a couple of older women at one xray machine and a couple of young women at the other. I can see that the older women already have their things on the belt, and the young ladies are still messing with their things, so I jumped behind the older ladies, which of course turned out to be the wrong thing to do. Even though their things were already on the belt, they weren’t moving. I don’t know if they were looking for documents, separating their liquids, or what, but they weren’t moving. I grabbed a bin, tore my laptop out if its case, threw my jewelry and coat into another bin, and took it to the other line where the young girls were.

“Ladies, my plane is already boarded and about to take off. Would you mind if I jump in front of you?” I pleaded with them.

“No problem, go right ahead!” they both laughed and waved me forward. I threw my stuff on the belt and quickly went through metal detector, and was shocked when it alarmed. You see, in my rush to get to the gate, I had completely forgotten that I was wearing a chain belt. The TSA guard just shook his head and waved me back out, where I removed the belt and sent it through the machine alone. This time I made it through the metal detector without incident, and fill my arms with my belongings without taking the time to put them away or put them on. In my arms I have my backpack, my laptop, my heels, a bag with my liquids, my jewelry, my tickets, my paper back, and then my chain belt, and I ran like hell to the gate in my stockings. They are literally closing the door as I get there, and open it to wave me through. When I got all of the way down the jet bridge and to the door of the plane itself, I stopped long enough to drop it all on the floor, get my shoes on, and put the laptop away, and then stumble on to the plane still holding a fistful of my belongings. Much to the amusement of those seated around me, I reclaim my seat and collapse. I look across the aisle where there are two young ladies in their 20’s both looking at me and grinning, so I smiled back at them.

“Get on the plane, get off the plane, get on the plane!” I said in an exaggerated tone while rolling my eyes. They both busted out laughing and we chatted more or less the rest of the way to Detroit. As the plane landed and was pulling up to the gate, I was joking with them about what the odds were that my bags had made it through that fiasco to Detroit with me.

“Oh my God! My bags better make it damn it!” one of them said, the idea apparently never having occurred to her that they may not have. Soon after the plane parked at the gate, the young woman next to the window looks at the woman next to her.

“I just saw your bag!” She says to the other, clearly delighted. I was standing in the isle waiting my turn to exit the plane and glanced out the window and at the conveyor belt, and what do you know – there went my tool box!

.. ..

I had just a short wait outside for the Avis shuttle to pull up, and when it did, the driver got out and insisted that I leave my bags for him to load. This caught me just a little off guard, because these folks all know me by now – they know my name and they damn sure know my gender, and yet he was being chivalrous. Once he got my bags loaded I gave him a small tip for his consideration and was surprised again when he didn’t bother to wait too long for anyone else, and left for the car lot with me as his only passenger. Along the way we spoke about this and that, and among other things, I told him how much I had appreciated the friendly attitude of the Avis folks at the Detroit airport. They have always greeted me with a smile, and it’s not just the smile of someone tolerating diversity, but the honest smile of good people doing a good job. In the end I asked him for his managers contact info so I could let them know how impressed I am with the service there. At the exit checkpoint, the guard once again smiled as he checked my contract.

“I know you don’t need no map! You have a good evening!” he said with a grin as he waved me through.

....

.. ..

The following day, Friday, I finished my work with one of my customers in the Detroit area. It was a mixed day as I’d managed to repair one of their instruments, but failed on another. I take it very personally when I can’t get a customer up and running and so it pretty much depressed the hell out of me. Still, at some point I had to throw in the towel and admitted at around 430PM that I didn’t have the foggiest idea why I couldn’t get it to run, and so it would have to be returned to the factory. One major component can not be aligned in the field as it requires a bench top alignment fixture, and I assumed this was the problem, but have no real way to prove it. So, bummed out and depressed, I headed for the hotel, where I got ready for dinner with Jenny, a TG friend in Detroit. All of the other folks that had been willing to join us for dinner the night before could not make it tonight, so it would just be the two of us at Gratzi in Ann Arbor. Due to my working so late trying to fix the one instrument, by the time I got cleaned up and to Ann Arbor, it was 730 and I was half an hour late and I was a basket case. I got the car parked in a garage and headed off  walking down main street looking for the restaurant but am not sure where it is. I was running late, starting to feel lost and over whelmed, and feeling more than a tad anxious, when two teenage girls walk up to me.

“Excuse me? Can you donate a little to help?” She asks very politely. Lost in my own worries I almost ignored the girl, but something in her tone got my attention, so I stopped and took a deep breath.

“Donate to what?” I asked her. They told me of their schools efforts to help some of the local people and of an upcoming trip that they had to pay their own way for. It sounded good to me and so I gave them a five dollar bill to many thanks, and turned to leave, but at the last second I turned back.

“Hey, you don’t where Gratzi’s is do you?” I asked them.

“Sure!” they both laughed and one pointed directly across the street at it. I was literally going to walk right on by it if I hadn’t stopped to talk to them. Hmmmm . . . karma . . . it works!

.. ..

I got as far as the door to the place, and that was where all forward progress stopped. The area inside and outside the door was absolutely packed to the point where it would have required a machete to get through it, and given the week and day I’d had, I would have seriously considered the option if I’d had one. I waited for a moment until it became obvious that no path was going to open up, and then started asking people to let me through as I was meeting someone that was already there and seated. In a few moments I was upstairs, sitting at a table across from Jenny, and I was a complete and utter nervous wreck. One of the things that I couldn’t help noticing as we talked was that every single woman that walked by us was a beauty, and I do mean a 10. They were all perfect, flawless, and gorgeous, and Jenny and I were not the best dressed women there by far. So, if you want to see gorgeous and well dressed women, go to Gratzi’s in Ann Arbor on a Friday night. Of course you might have to fight your way past their hulking boyfriends to talk to them, but hey . . .

.. ..

Jenny and I sat and talked for about two hours before calling it a night and heading for the stairs back down to the first floor. I have no idea why, it’s not like I tripped on anything, and I’d only had one drink, but I more or less started to loose my balance heading down the stairs. I had to sort of run down three or four of them to keep from falling down all of them on my backside. I looked back up at Jenny who was behind me and I laughed.

“Well, that was just the height of feminine grace and beauty wasn’t it?” I asked. I have no idea what she replied, if she replied at all, because I was mentally just too far gone and made a beeline for the parking garage and made my way back to my hotel. Once safely back to my hotel, I chose to hit up their pub for a drink and found the place almost as packed as Gratzi’s had been. The only seat left was right up under a TV with a basketball game playing, so I pulled up a chair and sat down. Shortly a young man walks up to me and points at the TV.

“I was supposed to be there!” he says, clearly unhappy that it didn’t happen. I glanced up at the TV and then looked back at him.

“You mean in Dallas or at the game?” I asked.

“Both!” he told me, “but I can’t get there because of the weather!”

“Yeah, I know the feeling, I was more or less stranded for two days myself.” I replied.

This led to a few minutes conversation about the weather, the airlines, and how much we both wished we were in Texas!

.. ..

Here’s the funny thing! I had to stay the weekend to take care of my other customer in Detroit and so I had Saturday and Sunday to do with as I pleased. I could have done anything I wanted in ....Detroit.... but just couldn’t gather any enthusiasm, and so spent my entire weekend doing nothing and going no where.

....

Monday rolled around and I head off to work with my second customer for the ....Detroit.... leg of this trip. This one was sort of responsible for much of the confusion on this trip because we had set it up to fix ONE machine. That’s how much time I had allocated, and how many components I had brought. Then after my trip had started he called to tell me that he had FOUR he wanted worked on. Hence my being forced to stay the weekend so that I would have all day Monday with him. Good news - things started going my way and I got all four rebuilt, to include one that they had completely torn apart trying to fix it for themselves. Talk about a nightmare, but I got it done and was back at the hotel before 5PM.

I considered shopping, but have no more money and need no more shoes (I know, I know! But if I keep telling myself that . . . )  In the end, I chose to go to the Motor City Casino and donate $20 to their video poker machines. As I was sitting there slowly watching my credits disappear, an older Asian woman takes the seat next to me, and soon her phone rings.

“Herro?” she says, with a VERY heavy Asian accent, though I can’t place it. Having spent time in Korea, Taiwan, and Japan there was a fair chance I might, but I didn’t.

“Who?” she says to the phone, and then again and louder “WHO?”

“No, no, you have the wrong numba. I’m orientar!” she said hanging up the phone and laughing like hell. She looks at me, still laughing.

“Did you hear? I told her I was orientar!” and that set off a whole new bout of laughter at her own cleverness. I laughed with her, because what I can say, it DID strike me as amusing.

“Where are you from?” I asked her in a moment.

“I am from ....Vietnam...., but I don’t tell people that. I just tell them that I am orientar.”

With that, she returned to her machine, and I returned to throwing my money away in mine.

....

Tuesday morning, I was at long last headed for home, after more than a week on the road and countless flight cancellations and delays. The good news is that my flights didn’t leave until 10AM so at least I didn’t have to race the sun out of bed. So it’s 6AM and I am standing in front of the bathroom mirror trying to decide if I should go male or female. Honestly, I had no enthusiasm for the time and effort required to go female, but I knew from experience that if I didn’t, I would spend the entire day feeling bummed about it. Still, the decision was so touch and go for me that I stood there staring in the mirror for at least five minutes before grabbing my makeup.

At the Avis lot, the driver was the same guy that months ago had sort of teased me about how heavy my tool box and bag were, and he took the opportunity to do it again this morning as I tossed one of them onto the bus.

“Wow that thing is heavy!” he said with a grin on his face. “So where have you been? We haven’t seen much of you!”

“I’ve been working!” I told him. “Just not in Detroit!”

“Well it’s a good thing you’ve been working anyway.” He agreed.

.. ..

Headed through the TSA check point on the way to my gate, one of the agents was standing at the “First class / Premium Passenger” line. I wasn’t going to bother using that line as the other wasn’t long, but he called to me as I walked by.

“Come on gorgeous, I’ll take care of you!” I didn’t know if I should be tickled or offended. Let’s face it, it’s highly unlikely that he would speak to a genetic woman that way, too unprofessional and far too high a chance of his getting in a world of shit over it. Still, I grinned and entered his line just the same.

Pretty much par for the course on this trip, my flight was delayed by about an hour, but soon I was in Chicago’s O’Hare airport waiting for my next and last flight to get me home. I started the day off not entirely sure if I wanted to make the trip as female or not, and the feeling of anxiety just kept growing through the day. At last, I finally decided that I’d had enough and made up my mind to find a “special needs / family restroom” to clean up and change clothes in. The joke was on me though, because I couldn’t find a private bathroom to change in. I’m sure that in the huge Chicago airport there must have been a private bathroom somewhere, but it wasn’t on my concourse and I didn’t have time to tour the airport hoping to find one. Nothing to be done about it, so I sucked it up and went to the gate to wait for my flight. As I was waiting, there were four soldiers also waiting, only a few feet away, and they keep glancing at me, whispering to each other, and laughing. Normally this wouldn’t have bothered me too much, but my confidence was already low, so it did kind of bum me out. As they were scanning the tickets of the passengers entering the jet bridge to the plane, the CSR looked at me and smiled, and started off kind of a confusing little conversation.

“Wow, your real and not just a Barbie doll! You look so cute!” he said as he was scanning my ticket. The machine couldn’t read it so I had to wait for him to move over to the keyboard and start punching in the numbers. I don’t recall if I said anything back to him or not I was so caught off guard by his comment. He hits the enter key, the computer beeps, and he hands me my ticket back.

“I knew something was up when all of the girls started talking about your cute shoes!” he said with a smile. “Have a nice flight!”

I swear I was in shock as I headed down the jet bridge and trying to make sense out of the brief exchange. I wasn’t sure if he was honestly complimenting me, teasing me, or what.

Erie Pennsylvania 2010 02

     

This time I was off to someplace I’ve never been before – Erie Pennsylvania.

The more I think about it, the more I am thinking that I may have to stop flying pretty from home unless my flights leave very early in the morning. It’s just too much stress and risk.

Stress in that my wife has started a new hobby of taking pot shots at me as I’m leaving that make me feel terrible about myself as I head for the airport.

Risk in that there is a big difference between getting in my car at 5AM when it’s dark and no one is going to work yet, and trying to do the same thing at 10AM in broad daylight and with people coming and going.

This morning was sort of a happy medium as I had to leave at about 520AM. It was still dark and before most people are leaving for work, and I was out of the house before my wife got up, so I avoided the guilt trip. Still, I was a bit concerned about the chance that one of my neighbors might be leaving for work, so I was a bit apprehensive as I made my way out to the truck.

As I was standing in line at the Delta check in counter, waiting my turn for the self check-in kiosk, one of the male Delta customer service folks walks up to me.

"Ma’am, since your elite, you can go right up to the counter if you like?" he said

"That’s OK, I’m perfectly comfortable with the kiosk" I replied to him. He nodded and said "It’s entirely up to you," with a smile. It struck me that even though I hadn’t recognized him, he must have recognized me, or else he wouldn’t have known that I am gold elite on Delta.

Late morning and afternoon in the Austin airports, you will find very little in the way of long lines going through security. Let’s face it, the airport is not as big as a major hub or anything like that, but in the early morning, you can find some fairly long lines. I suppose it’s all the folks commuting to Dallas or Houston or what ever for their jobs. Fortunately, in the last few months the airport has come to recognize that the lines are long in the morning and have put in special lanes for "premium passengers" – those flying first class or who are frequent flier elite with the airlines. And so it was that yours truly went waltzing past a hundred people all waiting in line and walked directly up to the TSA inspector. As I did, I could hear an assortment of grumblings from the long line.

"I wonder what you have to do to be considered a ‘premium’ passenger?" I hear one anonymous voice quipping with a sarcastic emphasis on the word ‘premium’. For just a moment I fantasized about answering him with "Why cross dress of course!" It was a cute thought, but there was never really any danger of my saying it. Still, the thought put a smile on my face as I handed my ID and ticket over to the TSA agent. In a moment I’m sitting at the gate and realize that as a result of my policy of getting to the airport two hours before my flight, I am literally the only person at the gate. ‘What the heck’ I thought, ‘I can get a picture of me someplace besides a parking lot or my stairwell,’ and so I quickly setup the camera and snapped off a pic or two.




Not five minutes later, four TSA agents come walking down the empty concourse and stop to chat in front of my empty gate. Every one of them is sneaking glances my way every few seconds, and after a moment they turn around and walk back the way they came, still turning and looking back at me off and on as they walk off. Considering that this is almost exactly what happened last week when I flew from Austin, I’m starting to feel like I am the TSA’s entertainment there. Finally it comes time to board the airplane and I am handing my ticket to the female agent at the gate.

"Hey! We haven’t seen you for a while!" she said with a huge grin.

"Yeah I know. I like Delta but my company keeps booking me on your competition!" I said with a pout and while sticking out my lower lip to make a "boo boo" face. That earned me a great laugh from her, just as I had hoped.

"I kind of figured you were probably flying with ‘them’ at the other end of the concourse" she replied, emphasizing the word ‘them’ in a way that clearly meant ‘the enemy’.

When the flight landed in Detroit, I made my way to the gate for the Erie flight and spent an hour or so surfing the internet. About a half an hour before the flight was scheduled to leave, I packed up my laptop and other gear and went to stand near the door to wait for the boarding to start. I was standing there waiting when a beautiful woman about my own age, maybe a little older, starts walking toward me. She has long, dark brown hair, with curls falling mid way down her back, and is wearing a dark blue skirt suit – she is everything I wish that I were. I was standing next to a trash can, and I figured that she was probably going to throw something away, and so I moved a little off to the side to get out of her way. Much to my surprise, she altered her path to stop directly in front of me, and even in three inch heels, she probably didn’t clear five foot tall. Considering my own height while wearing four inch heels, this was probably a hell of a sight to anyone looking.

"That is an awesome skirt!" she tells me, with an oddly intense look on her face. It was almost a defiant or proud look, as though she had said to herself and the world ‘I damned well will talk to her and I don’t care what the world thinks about it’, and was then proud of herself for doing it.

"Thank you SO much, it’s one of my favorites!" I told her with a wink, feeling so grateful for her act of kindness and for the courage it probably required of her. In all honesty, I know that the skirt is a bit over the top, but it’s so adorable I just have to wear it once in a while. You know, I spent the rest of the day feeling oddly pleased with life as a result of this woman’s comment.

When I got to the Holiday Inn, I was treated well, as I always am in any of their locations. I seem to recall reading once that the Holiday Inn had run a series of commercials years ago trying to attract the GLBT crowd, but eventually had to discontinue them because they were loosing too much high dollar business from conservatives. Advertising it or not, the Holiday Inn chain clearly is very friendly and respectful of all and I highly recommend them. A quick search on the internet and I discovered that there is a movie theater a couple of miles away, and there were a couple of movies that I was interested in seeing. It was a toss up between "Legion" and "The book of Eli" and since "The book of Eli" started soon, that’s the one I chose. It passed the time, but I’m afraid that I really can’t recommend it. It was mostly about thinly veiled excuses for impressive fight scenes, and a bit light on plot. As I left the theater, a light snow started to fall, and it continued to fall pretty much through the entire next day.

The repair I was here to do didn’t require long, maybe four hours the next morning, and a good hunk of that time was spent waiting on my customer to find liquid nitrogen. Still, I was back in the car and headed for the hotel shortly after noon. I flirted with the thought of trying to get a flight out today, but I still had 30 minutes of driving to get back to the hotel, and I hadn’t packed my things. I would end up paying for the day anyway AND a $100 for changing my flights, assuming that there were flights to be had. In other words, it would have actually cost my company more for me to fly home today than it would for me to wait for tomorrows scheduled flight. Having justified staying to myself, I got ready and went shopping, to the movies again, and to dinner.

As it had now been lightly snowing for well over 12 hours, the roads were slippery as hell, and so were the parking lots. I’m telling you, high heel pumps might as well be ice skates when your walking in that kind of stuff. This of course inspired me to take up my search for a pair of boots that I like, and so I started off at DSW Shoe Warehouse. As I entered the store, I see two sales attendants (SA’s) chatting, and the one facing me speaks up loudly.

"Hello and welcome to DSW!" she says.

"Thank you!" I said, trying to speak reasonably softly so that I wont be announcing my gender to everyone in the store with my voice. Still, as I walk in I can see her out of the corner of my eye tapping the other SA on the shoulder and nodding my direction. Soon both of them are looking my way, and I am once again wondering what it is about me that seems to broadcast that I am a male. I don’t walk like a quarterback nor do I exaggerate the female mannerisms. I’ve looked in enough mirrors that I know I don’t have a neon sign on my head or backside, so I just don’t get it. I did find a pair of boots that I liked, and they even had them in size 10 – my size. Still, I tried them on and found that they were too tight and hurt my toes. That is of course the reason that I long ago decided to never buy shoes with out trying them on. Sizes with female shoes are far too inconsistent and you just can’t assume that it will fit just because it claims to be your size. Disappointed, I left DSW and took a short drive to the mall near the movie theater. As I was walking through it, one of the ladies at a kiosk tries to stop me.

"Excuse me ma’am, have you got a moment?" she asks. I’ve long since lost all patience with this sort of thing, but still I replied nicely.

"No thank you, I’m not interested".

"OK, can I ask you a question?" she presses on. It astounds me. They must send all of the people that work in these kiosks, in all of the malls across the entire country, to the very same training course, because they ALL use this line.

"No, thank you." I again told her and continued walking. If you think I’m exaggerating about how annoying these people are, just ask your wife or girlfriend. These people don’t bother men, but they always put the hard press on women, and it gets to be a major inconvenience to be stopped and harassed every five or ten feet.

I managed to find a paper back book that looked interesting and proceeded to pay for it with the credit card I use for all of my travel related expenses. The clerk takes a look at the card, and then pauses for a moment as if unsure.

"I’m sorry, but do you have an ID for the credit card?" she asks. I used to hate showing my ID when femme, but since I got a state ID with my femme picture on it I actually get a kick out of it. It still shows my legal name and gender, but has my femme picture on it. Anyone looking at it still knows that I am transgendered, but at least I don’t have to show them my ugly pic.

Walking back down the same hallway to return to my car, I can see the kiosk woman that had stopped me earlier talking to another woman, and soon they both turn to watch me approach. As I get close, she steps out to meet me again, this time holding a tube of lotion.

"Did you change your mind?" she asks with a happy little grin, making it clear that she is kidding.

"Nope, still not interested!" I told her with a laugh.

"Listen, can I ask you a question? Honestly, it’s got nothing to do with this stuff," she said, waving a hand at her kiosk. Considering that she said it had nothing to do with her goods, and thinking that maybe she was sincere and perhaps interested in asking about my being trans, I actually stopped, and she started in as soon as I did.

"You polish your nails sometimes right?" she asked. At this point I can see the box of nail buffing products she is holding and start to seethe that she had misled me into stopping. I’ve had the whole nail buffing sales pitch before and wasn’t at all interested in spending $40 to buy the same stuff I could get at Target for $10.

"No thanks" I interrupted, and turned and walked away.

Next, I headed for the movie theater where I watched "Legion". It had some intense moments, but once again it was not a movie I’d go out of my way to see if I were you. It was more or less a horror flick with lots of blood, guts, and gore. That’s the sort of movie that I might get on DVD, but would rarely pay to see at the theater.

Trying to save money, both my own and my companies, I have been eating a lot of inexpensive fast food the last couple of months, and I’ve reached the point where I’ll scream if I have to eat one more burger. Tonight we eat at the Red Lobster! As they are at most restaurants, the hostess was drop dead gorgeous, and led me to a table in the corner and sat me facing away from most of the customers. I would have thought she was trying to keep me out of sight, either as a courtesy to me or to her other patrons, but she sat me right next to a family of about eight people. There is a young girl, maybe eight or nine facing me, and she is fidgeting a lot as do most children of this age. She keeps looking at me, but doesn’t look alarmed, or excited, so I wasn’t sure if she had "read" me or not. Finally I returned her look and smiled and winked at her. She gave me back a huge smile and returned to fidgeting. As they are finishing their dinner, I hear part of the conversation.

"It sure is going to be a long flight," she said, sounding exasperated. "It says we arrive at 2:30, but I don’t know if that is our time or theirs. Don’t we go through three or four time zones? If that is their time, it’s a real long flight!"

"I don’t know if it’s our time or theirs Momma," I hear a younger woman respond, and then hear a number of the others agreeing that they also had no idea. As I just about live on airplanes, I know that the arrival time is always given in the time of the place you are landing, but I hesitate to insert myself in to their conversation. After a few more comments about the topic, all expressing uncertainty and anxiety, I decide to speak up.

"Ma’am? The arrival time on your ticket will be the local time where you are landing." I told her

"Really? Have you been there?" she asked me nicely and with a note of excitement. At this point I had no idea where they were going – I hadn’t heard that.

"No, but it really doesn’t matter where you are going – they will always give the arrival time in the local time. Trust me, I fly a lot!" I told her with a grin.

"Well thank you then, I appreciate that!" she said.

"Your most welcome." I replied. "So where are you going? Someplace warm I hope?" I asked and was greeted with laughs around the table.

"We are going on vacation to Hawaii!" She said, looking around the table at her family, where all were clearly excited and delighted to be heading out on this adventure.

"You know that is one of the few places that I haven’t been to yet. Can I come with y’all?" I asked while batting my eyes, and was once again rewarded with laughter from around the table.

"Sure you can. We leave from the airport at 530AM tomorrow morning!" she said, playing along.

"I’ll be there!" I assured her, and I was there, but I accidentally went to Austin instead of Hawaii . . .

What were the odds?

Once again I find myself off to Detroit. I arranged for a flight that left at around noon just so that I could be the good guy and help my wife by getting my daughter off to school. This saves my wife from having to fight with two children to get my daughter ready and to school but results my getting to my destination a lot later than I care for.

Once I was ready, I walked down stairs to see my wife on her laptop. Much like myself, she is kind of an introvert and spends very little time actually socializing with people, and instead spends a lot of her time online. She looked up at me and grinned and shook her head.

"Your hair looks nice." She told me in a sincere tone, and then went back to looking at her laptop.

"Well thank you!" I said, kind of surprised because she rarely comments on my look, but I am strangely pleased and flattered by her comment.

"I’m sorry you got stuck with a weird husband." I told her with a grin, while standing across the table from her. She looked thoughtful for a moment and then replied.

"No your not."

I looked at her, feeling grateful that my wife doesn’t think I’m all that weird.

"Awe, that’s sweet . . . " I started to say, but then stopped as it struck me that that is NOT what she meant.

"Hold it. You mean ‘no, I’m not sorry that I’m weird’ huh?" I asked her.

"That’s what I meant" she confirmed, still with an ironic smile on her face.

This launched us in to 20 or 30 minute conversation alternating between levity and tragedy. Among other things, she has informed me that a significant reason she has no friends is that she is afraid to bring people to our home because of what they may see or figure out about me. She is afraid to bring people to meet me because of the clues I give off. She is afraid to have friends because I may ruin it for her.

Now for those of you inclined to think my wife unreasonable, I have to point out that this has indeed happened twice already. Once with an acquaintance who never progressed to friend after finding out about me, and once with a really neat woman that had been my wife’s best friend. When her husband found out about me, my wife and I were no longer welcome in their home, and so the friendship died. This did happen, and it was because of what I am, so it’s hard to look her in the eye and tell her that she is being entirely unreasonable. Reasonable or not, this seems to be the new way of things with my wife and I. As I am prepared to leave the house, she let’s me know how unhappy what I am makes her. I don’t know where to go with this. It hurts to know that I make her unhappy and yet it’s the first time in my life that I have been happy. I don’t know what I can do to make the love of my life happy while not making myself utterly miserable . . .

As I checked in for my flight with US Airways, I see that the lady behind the counter is the same lady that took care of me a month or so ago, and who never once smiled. I recall thinking at the time that it was a shame because she was really beautiful and I was sure she would be stunning if she smiled. Well, it turns out that I was right, because as soon as she saw me, she gave me a huge smile, and she was indeed radiant and stunning. I handed her my tickets and ID and she gave me a little laugh.

"I remember you very well and I don’t need to see your ID." She said with a grin.

"Oh really? Are you saying that I make a bit of an impression then?" I asked with a wink.

Soon I had my bags checked and was in the way through the TSA security where I was set back just a bit by the young lady checking everyone’s ID. She was a young, short, and blond woman with brilliant blue eyes and she reminded me so much of my wife when we first met that I was lost in my memories as she checked my ID.

"I hope you have a great day!" I told her as she handed my documents back to me. She said nothing, but blushed and glanced up into my eyes for a heart stopping moment. I was sort of in a daze, with my thoughts flickering all over the place as I walked away.

Adorable little blond girl with the eyes of my wife from 20 years ago,

Her blushing, probably in embarrassment to be dealing with someone transgendered.

My wife, scared to have friends because of what I am.

Much like a lot of my life these days, today is off to a confusing start. . .

As I sit at the gate getting ready for my flight, I get a text message from my wife telling me that she is sorry for our conversation. As I’m reading it, I see two TSA agents walking down the concourse, a man and a woman, and they are speaking to each other. As they walk on, the guy is literally turning around almost backwards to stare it me as they walk off. At last, they get so far away that he has to turn around and face the woman he is walking with and talking to. I can’t decide if I should smile or be irritated and so I just returned to my wife’s text message. I replied to her that I didn’t want her to feel sorry for what she said or how she felt. It’s important that I know how she feels, but I also confided that I didn’t know what to do to make us both happy. Just as I hit send, I see the two TSA agents returning, this time with a third agent. All three stop not 15 feet from me and have a "casual" conversation. As I am at the end of the concourse, they have just walked a long way to have a casual chat so close to me, and it’s pretty obvious that the idea is to show the third guy the freak show waiting for a flight. Soon they wrap up their conversation and return the way they went, with both of the guys sneaking looks back in my direction. What the hell, I just grinned at both of them as they walked off.

I had a fairly long layover in Charlotte and so chose to have a sit down dinner at Chili’s instead of my typical fast food meal. I started with an entirely healthy meal of salmon and veggies and then destroyed the whole "good for you" concept by getting a couple of 7 & 7 drinks with it. I very rarely drink in airports because it’s too damned expensive and I think it’s a good idea to keep your wits about you while traveling, but somehow it just sounded like a good idea today. When I checked my ticket I was delighted to see that I had a free upgrade to first class and so I flew to Detroit in comfort. There was some sort of maintenance delay, so we sat at the gate for over 30 minutes, but that’s not so bad when your sitting in first class sucking on a couple of screw drivers.

At the Detroit airport, there is a long escalator taking you down to the rental car shuttle busses, and you can look through the plate glass the entire way, so I could see the Avis bus sitting there and waiting. I had intended to stop, put on my coat, and then head outside, but I worried that the bus would pull away while I was putting the coat on. Instead, I chose to just head out the door with no coat for the short walk to the bus, thinking ‘how bad could it be for only 50 feet?’. As I exited the building, the cold reached up and hit me like a slap in the face, and I was still sort of in shock when the bus driver came up to me, almost running.

"Here, give me those bags! You get on the bus where it’s warm and I’ll take care of these!" he said with a gentle smile.

"Thank you SO much!" I told him, with my teeth chattering so badly that I was not sure he recognized it as speech. The bus driver took his seat after putting my bags up, and then turns to me.

"Are you a member of our preferred program? " he asks me.

"I am," I said, and gave him my last name. He looks at his computer for a moment.

"And your first name?" he asks.

"Matthew," I called back to him, all the while looking at the only other passenger on the bus for a reaction to my male name. I’ve got to hand it to the guy, he didn’t even blink or look up.

With my starting my trip so late in the day, combined with the delay leaving Charlotte, it was around 9:30 PM when I arrived at the Crowne Plaza hotel. They placed me on the eleventh floor – the priority club floor where they have a lounge just for members. I poked my head in to the almost empty lounge and see a really cute woman about my own age, with short spiked hair, and glittering eyes standing behind the counter.

"Come on in, come on in!" she says with a smile, while waving me in. "You’re just a bit too late for hot snacks, but I’ve still got some chips and cookies."

"Awesome!" I told her as I entered.

She was very friendly and out going and soon we were chatting about nothing specific, while I snacked and ordered a white Russian. Just as I sat down, I realized how tired I was and so I took my snacks and drink to the room with me, where I pulled out my laptop and checked my email. I see that I have an email from Chrissie, a Vanity Club member who also travels a great deal. In it, she says it’s too bad that I hadn’t given her more notice about my trip to Detroit, because she was there tonight as well and was staying at the Crowne Plaza. I sat there looking at the email for a moment, thinking to myself that I was too damned tired, and it was too late, to go be social, but I just couldn’t pass it up. Chrissie and I have been trading emails for about a year now, and have come close to meeting several times, but never quite seemed to get it right. We had been only miles apart a couple of times, and had both even been at the Southern Comfort Conference last year and still we hadn’t managed to connect. Having wanted to meet her for so long, there was just no way I could pass it up if she was in the same darn building I was in, no matter how tired I felt.

I gave her a call and we both laughed to find that we were only separated by a single floor. In short order I was in the elevator on the way to the lobby to meet with her. I only made it down one floor when the elevator stopped and on walks a gentleman who looks at me with a smile.

"Well hello, and yes, I am who your thinking I might be!" he says with a grin.

We made our way to the lounge in the lobby where we sat talking for a few hours about nothing and everything. We have a LOT in common, from family, to traveling for our careers, being transgendered, etc, etc. We were both struck by how incredibly unlikely our meeting that night was. From completely different states we had headed out, working in completely different fields, and we both end up not only in the same city, but at the same hotel, and with no prior planning or coordination with each other. I’d have to say the odds were astronomical against it, but what do I know? It turned out to be serendipitous though, as I really quite liked her, and considering the conversation with my wife this morning, I sort of needed someone to talk to who understood my life. All talked out and exhausted, I was back in my room and headed for bed around 1:30 AM

When the alarm went off at 6AM, the pounding in my head made it abundantly clear that I had way over done it the night before. I mentally started ticking off a list of all I had drank – two 7 & 7’s at dinner, two screw drivers on the plane, a white Russian in the upstairs lounge, and then two glasses of wine with Chrissie.

"Oh my God, you’re an idiot, and on a work night at that!" I scolded myself, but let’s face it, my head hurt too bad to pay attention to what I was saying. Eventually I dragged myself out of bed and headed for my customers. The drive, and in fact the entire day, was cold, dark, and miserable. My customer had told me that he had three instruments for me to look at, but then wheeled out five, and so I wasn’t done until almost 7PM. Given that I had an hours drive to get back to the hotel, and I still had a pounding head, I decided that I was done for the night and wasn’t going to be going anywhere. When I got to my room, I cleaned up a little and headed for the members lounge where I again found the same cute woman manning the place.

"All right! Tonight I’m not too late for the hot stuff I see!" I told her with a grin, as I looked at the assorted snacks, and noted that again she and I were the only ones there.

"Nah, I’ll have the hot stuff out for another hour or so. Come on in and help yourself!" she says. "Would you like something to drink?" At the very mention of a drink, my head throbs so bad that I must have winced.

"God no! I think I had at least one too many of those cute little white Russians last night and my head is killing me." I told her with a grin. She laughed and this set off an hour or more of conversation with her. I don’t know for sure, but suspect that she figured out that I was the cross dresser from the night before, and she completely opened her life up to me. She told me that her divorce to a self centered and unloving man was just about to become final, and that the only good thing she was bringing out of the marriage was three beautiful children. I commented that my own marriage had now lasted for 22 years, and trotted out my favorite joke that the reason it has lasted so long is because I’m not home enough to really irritate her. At this point she shocked me by telling me that her own marriage had lasted 23 years. Wow – 23 years with a selfish, self centered, and unloving man and now she has had enough. Of course it was only a hop-skip-and a jump from that thought to wondering if that is how my wife views me and our marriage.

Until very recently, say the last two or three years, I’ve never flirted with women. I was way too shy and they were far too intimidating to me, but getting out in to the world as Kimberly the last few years, combined with doing field service where you are forced to meet and interact with so many people, has done wonders for my self confidence. I had to say something when she complained that she had no idea how to date anymore, and no idea how she was going to go about meeting a decent guy, and that she was afraid she was going to end up all alone.

"I suspect your not going to have any trouble at all when you’re ready to meet someone. You’re out going, clearly intelligent, and absolutely cute as hell." I blurted out before my brain could talk me out of saying it. I sat there blushing for half a second and wondering if maybe I’d gone too far and said something inappropriate, but she quickly let me off the hook.

"What a sweet thing to say – thank you so much!" she said softly. Still embarrassed that I had acted so boldly, my eyes flickered up to hers for just an instant and I couldn’t help seeing that hers were tearing up. It was probably just as well that two women entered the lounge at that point, thus distracting her from her fears of being lonely. Soon the three women are speaking bluntly about the flaws of husbands and men in general, and I’m flattered that they are willing to have the conversation in front of me.

The next morning I have to get up at 3AM if I want to fly home pretty. It’s a toss up for me as I want the sleep, but I know that I’ll spend the entire trip home being depressed if I don’t go pretty, so once again I find myself up well before the sun. It reminds me of the joke we used to share in the Army about how the US Army was always trying to sneak up on the sun.

On the rental car shuttle bus, a man a couple of seats down strikes up a conversation with me.

"Are you in Detroit for a convention?" he asks.

"No, I was here working on a broken instrument" I replied. "Are you here for a convention?"

"Nope, I just come to Detroit once a month or so" he tells me. He has an odd look in his eye and smile on his face, as if he is amused by some sort of inside joke that only he knows about. I can’t help but notice the fact that he was intentionally vague and assume it has something to do with his inside joke. We chatted about nothing for the five minute ride to the airport. You know, I’m still wondering what kind of convention he thought would bring a cross dresser to Detroit, and what brings him to Detroit once a month that puts such an odd grin on his face.

I can’t use my coat when I land in Austin anyway because I’ll be changing back to boy mode, so the first thing I do as I enter into the airport is to stop, pull off my heavy coat, and pack it away in my bag. Soon I’m pulling my bag and tool box toward the airline counter when I hear a male voice directly behind me.

"You must be going someplace warm if your not bothering with a coat!" I turn to see an airport employee smiling at me.

"You betcha! I’m going to Austin Texas and it’s a lot warmer there!" I said with a laugh.

Today I’m taking the scenic route home and flying through Phoenix Arizona on my way to Austin. Soon I’m sitting on the plane next to a young lady who smiles and chats a little off and on. She doesn’t seem to be at all put off by me so that’s cool. Had a little giggle when the flight attendant walks up to each of us in first class, confirming our names and getting our drinks. Every one she approaches, she looks at them and reads their first and last names off, confirming that they are who her list says should be in that seat. When she gets to me, she kindly uses only my last name.

"And you are Ms XXX?" she asks me, with a soft smile.

"Yes ma’am, That works for me!" I grinned back at her.

"And what shall I call you dear?" she asks. Clearly she is giving the chance to give her a female name, but it didn’t really occur to me until after I’d responded out of habit.

"Matt is fine." I told her.

She was a sweetheart though and never once called me "Matt". I was either "hon" or "dear" for the rest of the flight.

High Heels and Snow

       ............

This week I was off to Longmont Colorado to install a mass spectrometer and to train the customer in it’s operation. Colorado is an absolutely beautiful state and I do tend to enjoy my trips there, but this time it was a bit colder than I like, and with more than a little snow.

.. ..

It seems that there are so many TG’s flying these days that no one even bats an eye at me in the airports anymore. I consider that to be a mixed blessing sort of thing, because on some level I guess I had been enjoying the reactions that I used to get. It had amused me to see people do a double take, re-evaluate their preconceptions, and then step up to the plate and treat me like a human being. Not these days though – it’s just business as usual with everyone involved, with me being treated no better or worse than anyone else

.. ..

My flight was a direct one from Austin to Denver and so I arrived fairly early in the day. As this was just a travel day, it gave me most of the afternoon to have fun, and so I did! I started by plotting out the Goodwill stores between the airport and Longmont and found two that I headed out for. The first was on Colfax avenue in Denver / Aurora, and if you have ever spent any time in the area, you probably know that Colfax is not one of the safest or nicest areas to visit. My wife and I had lived only a couple of miles from there when I was attending a year long course on Lowery AFB many years ago, and so I knew this, but still I didn’t let it intimidate me. The first thing I noticed as I stepped out of the car in the parking lot was that high heels were less than ideal on snow and ice. I just reminded myself that if I took small and careful steps, I would probably avoid making a complete ass out of myself by ending up on my face or backside.

As I closed the car door, I noticed two African American women approaching me in the parking lot, also headed for the Goodwill entrance. To be honest, they looked just a bit on the rough side, with both of them looking tired and disheveled. As I locked the car door and started to make my way to the store, I glanced at them both and gave them a smile, and then one of them spoke to me.

“Girl, don’t you look pretty!” she said while returning my smile.

“Well thank you! I try anyway.” I replied. While we were speaking, the other lady was looking at my shoes, something I have come to recognize as sort of a greeting ritual with women.

“Sweetheart, you better be careful on the snow and ice in those heels.” She said, with kind of a “tsk tsk” attitude. I just grinned at her.

“Oh hell, I have a lot of practice in these things!” I told her. About that time I had reached the door and held it open for both of them.

“Well thank you!” they both told me almost in unison and both with genuine smiles.

“It seems fair to me. You two gave me a smile after all.” I told them with a wink.

I did my shopping and found lots of baby clothes for my son. Goodwill rocks for this sort of thing because lets face it, babies do not wear out their clothing. They grow far too fast to be wearing an outfit long enough to do any damage to it, and so you can buy these cute little PJ’s that are like new for only a dollar each. I also found a cute little (and I do mean little) multicolored skirt. That one’s gonna get put away until it gets a lot warmer!

.. ..

I hit up one more thrift store on the way to Longmont but found nothing of interest there. What did amuse me a little was that as I approached the door, there was young man coming out of it. At first he paused to hold the door for me, then you could see the light in his head go off as he “read” me, and he just let the door go while giving me a mean hearted look. I just smiled at him and expect that this probably irritated him more than anything else I could have done.

.. ..

When I checked in at the Holiday Inn Express in Longmont, the lady behind the counter was a real doll. Very friendly, very professional, and clearly a really nice person. We chatted about this and that as she checked me in. At one point she let out a small whistle and commented that she had never seen anyone with as many points as I have with their chain.

....

....

The following day was uneventful, starting off with my spending most of it with my customer. A very nice guy, originally from China, and when I took him to lunch we had an enjoyable discussion trading stories about the places we had seen and been to. After work, I drove to Loveland to meet with my half brother and his wife. I had never met her before and so was looking forward to it.

The evening was full of mixed feelings. Pleasure at seeing him again and in meeting his lovely wife, and some small sorrow as we discussed our younger lives and some of the low and high moments in them. He went through a bunch of old photos that he had acquired when our father had died and found and offered me a few that included my mother. I tried not to tear up as I looked at the pictures of this young, skinny, and beautiful woman that had given me life and love and who was now gone. So, an evening catching up on things and with lots of mixed emotions and feelings.

.. ..

The next morning I woke to the sight of a light snow fall through the window. Very pretty to look at as long as I didn’t have to be out in it. As I entered the dinning area of the hotel for a cup of coffee and some oatmeal, I couldn’t noticing that every single one of the half dozen women in the room were drop dead gorgeous, and I mean gorgeous. The lady at the counter was a 20 something brunette with adorable hair and glittering eyes. The lady running the breakfast was a tall blond girl, with flawless skin and piercing blue eyes. The two ladies sitting at a table eating and talking business, clearly planning their work day, were also exceptionally pretty. In the midst of all of this beauty was me, a tired old guy with crooked and yellow teeth, and no hair. Feeing old and unattractive, I once again headed out of the hotel to my customer’s facility to continue the training.

.. ..

Fortunately my customer was exceptionally sharp, and we were done at around 11AM, and so he escorted me to the exit. As we approached the door, you could see a very heavy snowfall through the windows, with the world out there being a more or less solid white. As I got in to the car, I noticed that my shoes had a heavy coating of snow and ice on them, and so I had to re-open the door and kick it off. As I was doing so, it occurred to me that the only female shoes I have are pumps, and that they weren’t gonna be a lot of fun in thick snow and ice. On the drive to the hotel, I seriously considered my options for what was feasible to do for the rest of the afternoon. Did I really want to be walking through foot deep snow wearing pumps? Would I freeze? Would I damage my shoes? ‘Maybe I should just stay drab or stay in the hotel . . .’ I thought to myself.

“Nah, not only no, but hell no! I’m gonna go shopping for boots!” I decided, and so I did!

I kept glancing out of the window as I was getting cleaned up and ready, and it was pretty much just a white haze of heavy snowfall. I tried to take a few photographs that would do the snowfall justice, but I’m afraid they failed to capture the essence and wonder of the thing.

.. 
..

.. ..

.. ..

As I made it to my rental car, I discovered that in the short time it had been parked, it was already covered in snow, and with a nice layer of ice over the windows. Joy of joys – it is now that I find out that Avis had not provided me with a ice scrapper, so I just let the car and defroster run long enough to clear most of the windshield and then headed out.

.. ..

The first place I hit up on my search for boots was Kohls, but I didn’t find any boots there that I liked. As long as I was there though, I decided to continue to browse the other areas of the store. As I was looking through their trinkets, bracelets, and necklaces, I noticed a blond woman, very well dressed and quite pretty, and it was with a shock that I realized that she was almost certainly a TG! I wasn’t positive, and so I kept glancing at her trying to make up my mind and maybe hoping to catch her eye to start a conversation. At one point she and I were on opposite sides of the same rack, and still she had never looked my way, so I took the plunge.

“Hey, you didn’t swipe all the cute stuff before I got here did you?” I asked her with a grin. She looked up at me and laughed.
“No, I left lots of stuff!” she told me. If she was TG, she had a flawless voice, because after hearing her speak I now put the odds at only about 50%. Utterly unsure if she was or was not TG, I took the conversation no further and we went our separate ways.

The snow had of course continued to fall while I was shopping, and nothing had been done to clear the parking lot, and so off I went, traipsing through a foot of snow in my pumps. Just as I got near my car, I became acquainted with a hazard in doing this. Under the snow was a rough pile of frozen material that you couldn’t see and I had stepped squarely on top of it. I went sliding, arms waving and flailing about, trying to keep my balance and to avoid ending up on my caboose. At last, I came to a stop, just barely keeping my balance, and glanced around to see if any one had seen my performance. Sure enough, sitting in the idling car next to mine was someone keeping warm, and he was looking at me with a huge grin. I gave him an “Oops!” look and got into my car.

.. ..

Next, I tried JC Penny, and this time I found boots I liked . . . but not in my size. They only came as large as a 9 and I need 10’s, so off I went again.  My next stop was Sears and Dillards in a mall across the street. The mall was clearly a victim of the economy and a lot of its shops were closed and vacant, so that was a bit of a bummer. As I entered Sears, I saw the tool section and went looking for a cheap ice scrapper for my rental car. I decided I’d rather spend two or three of my own dollars to buy a scrapper than try and improvise to get my windows clear tomorrow morning when it came time to head for the airport. As I was looking through the tool section, a fairly gruff looking SA looked at me a couple of times and at last gave a half hearted offer of help.

“Can I help you?” he asks in a tone making it clear his offer is not in the least bit sincere.

“Yes please. I need a window scrapper for my rental car.” I told him.

“You mean for automotive?” he asks in a bored tone. Of course I’m thinking to myself that ‘Yes, wanting it for my rental car did sort of imply automotive’ but I wasn’t gonna take the risk of being a smart ass with this guy.

“Yes,” I repeated, “For my car.”  He looked at me for a second and then pointed a bit further down the store,

“Automotive is that way. Ask one of those guys.” He says dismissively and then walks away.

“Thanks so much!” I told his back with a smile, while thinking ‘what an asshole’ to myself. Ice scrapper in hand, I headed to their shoe section where I again found no boots that met my apparently unusual desires. I want black leather, knee high, two and a half to three inch heels, and with a rounded toe. Why is that so damned hard to find? I HATE the pointed toe boots because I think they are ugly, make my feet look huge, and remind me of the wicked witch’s shoes.

.. ..

After I paid for my ice scrapper, I headed out of Sears and entered the mall to make my way to Dillards, but on my way to Dillards I came across a “Famous Footwear” store and entered it. As I walked in, there was a short and petite young man wearing a name tag who glanced up at me.

“You look gorgeous!” he said in a very enthusiastic and effeminate demeanor. He paused and took a look at my pumps.

“I love those shoes, and in plaid too!” he said.

“Thank you so much!” I told him, blushing at the unexpected warmth of his greeting.

“Now all I need is a set of boots so I have something a bit more appropriate for your weather here.” 

“Let me know if I can help you.” He said with a smile, while waving his hand in the generally direction of the boots. I browsed through them and found a pair that I liked, but they also only had size nines on the shelf. I knew it was probably pointless, but still I went to ask the SA if they might have them in a larger size in stock. As I approached him, he was speaking with another 20 something year old male and I could hear little bits as I approach.

“Honey, I’ve never owned that kind of heel. I like these!” one is saying to the other. Clearly I am not the only male in the store that wears high heels. Oh well, as I had suspected, they did not have the boots I liked in a larger size, and so once again I had struck out. I continued on to Dillards where I was well treated, but again failed to find any that I liked.

.. ..

Giving up on the search for boots for the day, I headed off to the movie theater I had passed in the same mall. As I made my way through the almost empty mall, I passed two or three groups of teenagers, and none paid me the least bit of attention.

.. ..

I watched the new “Twilight” movie, about a young lady that falls in love with a vampire, and then manages to seriously complicate things by latter falling in love with a werewolf – the mortal enemy of vampires. I thoroughly enjoyed the movie and found it oddly touching, but I can’t say much more with out being a spoiler. I couldn’t help but grin as I heard at least a dozen women and girls in the theater gasp at the last line at the end of the movie.

.. ..

After the movie I slowly made my way to the hotel, more than a little surprised that there didn’t seem to be much effort to clear the streets in a place that gets so much snow. That’s OK though, I had lived in Denver for a year, and in Bavaria Germany for three, and so I have fairly decent skills for driving in snow. As I entered the hotel lobby, the clerk behind the counter gives me a smile as I stomp the snow off of my pumps. I just shook my head as I spoke to her.

“Important note to self – high heels and ice . . . “ I paused, and then we both finished the sentence together.

“ . . . do not mix”, I said.

“. . . are a bad idea!” she said at the same time with a laugh.

Don’t do the Kimberly thing in Wisconsin

Current mood:tired

    ............

.. ..

Well, on this weeks trip, I only spent about 30% of the time female as I had planned on spending. The night before my trip to Madison Wisconsin, I was getting my things together for the mornings flight when my wife started to get kind of sullen. I wouldn’t go so far as to say she was angry, but she was clearly not happy and dropped a few hints.

.. ..

“I’m not feeling good. I’m tired and exhausted, and wish you weren’t going anywhere,” she told me two or three times, at least once with the classic boo boo lip sticking out.

For those of you that don’t speak the “wife” language, or my wife’s language in any case, this was a hint to say “If you spend all night picking out and packing things for your trip, and doing your nails, I’m going to be hurt and angry.” Being the selfish and thoughtless person that I am, I at first blew past this and kept getting my stuff together, but within a minute or two, the guilt got to me.

“OK, no problem. Sorry but I still have to pack what I need for the trip, but I’ll fly the old fashioned way so I don’t have to spend a lot of time getting everything together tonight. Once I get it all packed I’ll come sit down with you.” I told her with a smile. She then assured me that she didn’t want to ruin my flights and it was fine with her if I got ready, but it was clear that her heart really wasn’t in the words and so I stuck to that plan.

.. ..

As I was packing, my wife’s uncle from San Antonio called me to ask where I was headed this week. These are the folks that kept asking me if I was Transgendered until I finally admitted it to them recently. They are fine with it and maybe even a little fascinated by it. As soon as I told her uncle that I was on the way to Madison WI, he got all excited and handed the phone to his wife. Who would have thunk it – that is where she is from!

.. ..

“OK,” she says, “If your going there you need to bring me back some cheese turds!”  What the hell??!!  I must have misunderstood her.

“I’m sorry, you want me to get you what?” I asked her

“Cheese turds!” she repeated. I paused, waiting to see if something will click and this will suddenly start to make some kind of sense. Apparently I paused too long.

“Are you still there?” She asks.

“Yeah, I’m just trying to figure out what the hell ‘Cheese Turds’ are!” I told her.

“Not ‘turds’ you idiot, ‘curds’! Haven’t you ever heard the Christmas song about eating curds and weigh?” she asks, sounding irritated with my dim wittedness.

“OK, curds and not turds – got it. Yes, I’ve heard the song but never did have any idea what ‘curds’ were. What he hell are cheese curds?!” I asked her.  She quickly launched into an explanation, sounding excited the entire time that she was about to get her hands on this apparently delectable cheese product from home. Frankly, I figured there was a fair chance that she was yanking my chain and sending me on the equivalent of a snipe hunt, and so I was a little less than enthusiastic.

“Cheese curds. Right. Got it. No promises, but I’ll try and look for them.” I told her, still wondering if she was yanking my chain.

“Try hell! You better bring me back some!” she said, and then paused for a bit before continuing. “You know, on second thought, forget it – they will never let you in to the state anyway.” she says with the smug attitude that makes it clear that now she is yanking my chain.

OK, I’ll bite. Why wont they let me into the state?” I asked. She listed three reasons, but for the life of me, I can’t recall what they were. The one I do remember is that you have to be a fan of their football team to get into the state, and as sports bores the hell outta me, I wasn’t gonna make it past that part of the entry exam.

“Oh, one more thing.” She says, suddenly sounding serious. I waited but she didn’t continue, and so I had to prompt her.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Don’t do the Kimberly thing there.” She says, with the tone that makes it clear she is offering heart felt and honest advice.

“I do the Kimberly thing pretty much everywhere I go.” I told her. “Not only have I been out in places like Oklahoma city and Little Rock Arkansas where people warned me I was crazy to go, but they treated me better there than in the cities well know for supposedly being more progressive and open minded. What makes you think that Madison would treat me any poorer?” I asked her.

“Well, it’s a college town, and they don’t tolerate that kind of thing there – you just shouldn’t do it.” She warned me. Now I travel to most of the cities in the United States, and I long ago discovered that the area’s around a university or college are almost always the areas where diversity is welcomed and well treated. Still, she was giving me heart felt advice, and I very much appreciated the thoughts behind it. It didn’t change my mind or my plans in any way, but I did appreciate her concern. You know what the funny thing is though? I had nightmares all night long about the trip. I had the Transgender or cross dresser version of the ‘I went to work/school with no clothes on’ kind of dream. Nightmares where I was “dressed” with no wig or makeup, and everyone around me knew what I was and was laughing at me. Nightmares where the airlines refused to let me board the aircraft. Nightmares where the customer took a look at me and started laughing. We are talking about dreams, and they don’t have to make sense. All I know is I had nightmares all night about the trip and so my 5 or 6 hours of sleep felt more like 2 or 3.

.. ..

When I arrived in Madison, my first order of business was to find a grocery store and look for ‘Cheese Turds’ . . . err . . . I mean ‘Cheese Curds’ for my aunt. I stopped at a grocery store and found cheese curds in a variety of flavors. Having no idea what she may have preferred, I gave my aunt a call.

“OK, I’ve found cheese curds! They’ve got Pizza curds, they’ve got Ranch curds, they have this kind of curd and that kind of curd. They have yellow cheddar curd and they have orange cheddar curd. What kind of curd do you want?” I asked her, being sure to exaggerate the word ‘curd’ each time I say it. As I’m speaking to her on the phone, I see a lady standing next to me break out in a huge grin as she hears what I’m saying. Clearly my sarcastic attitude has not gone unnoticed by her. I just glanced at her, pointed at the phone in my hand, and then circled my ear with my finger in the universal “this person is crazy” sign. She busted up laughing and was still grinning as I walked away.

.. ..

.. ..

The next day I completed my repair at the University of Wisconsin at Madison, and was back to my hotel at around 2PM. As I considered getting dressed and going out, I still had a feeling of unease left over from the nightmares the previous night, and kept hearing my aunts voice over and over in my head:

“Don’t do the Kimberly thing in Madison!”

‘Well damn!’ I thought to myself. ‘If I give in to this fear, I’ll be back hiding in hotel rooms soon!’. With that thought on my mind, I got ready and forced myself to go out the door. Just for giggles, I decided to try the new hair I had bought at SCC back in September. The last time I’d tried this hair I really hadn’t cared for it much, but this time I devoted a lot more time and effort to it and I think that I managed to make it look a bit more to my style and liking.

.. ..

.. ..

I started off with a movie, and so went to see the new Sherlock Holmes. The young man that sold me my ticket didn’t bat an eye and I’m not sure he even realized what I was. The young lady where I bought the candy and a coke though, most certainly did catch on, and very quickly at that. As the family in front of me moved out of the way, clutching their assorted snacks and with the father herding the children away, the young lady behind the counter took one look at me and her face broke out in to a huge grin. Soon, I was clutching my snacks and walking down the hallway towards my movie. As I approached a group of teenaged boys standing outside another theater, they suddenly got quiet and watched me walk by. The entire time, I continued to hear my aunts words in my head – “Don’t do the Kimberly thing in Wisconsin!”. I honestly have no idea if they realized I was TG, or were just watching an older woman walk by, but my aunts words had made me hyper aware and paranoid, and I felt like everyone was staring at me.

.. ..

As I entered the theater, I stopped dead in my tracks because the place was packed and had very few open seats. Well, damned if I was gonna stop now, so I picked my way into the crowd, took a seat, dug my candy outta my purse, and started throwing “Buncha Crunch” in my mouth and washing it down with coke. It was a fairly good movie, and with some very well done costumes, scenes, and backgrounds of old London, but it is still not going to make my list of favorites. Sherlock Holmes love interest is a bad girl, which of course makes her that much more interesting. She was gorgeous, as you would expect, and she wore a couple of gowns that I would cheerfully kill for the chance to wear. I will never, ever, have the kind of money it would take to purchase a gown of that quality, and I can’t think of any place you would ever have the excuse to wear it in any case, so I suppose everyone is safe. Kimberly wont be killing anyone for gowns today.

.. ..

By the time the movie got out, it was almost 8PM, and so I decided to just return to my hotel and take advantage of the assorted coupons they had given me on account of my Platinum status with them. The waitress was a doll, very friendly and with the good sense to know that a good waitress checks with her guests just often enough to be sure they have the chance to ask for something if they want it, but not so often as to be an annoyance. As I was finishing my dinner, I noticed that my throat was starting to hurt, and my nose was starting to run. Uh oh – not good. It looks like I’m getting a cold. Still, I planned to fly home pretty and so I packed most of my stuff away, leaving out the outfit and makeup that I intended to wear. I guess the joke was on me though, because when I woke up in the morning, I was in no doubt that I now had a cold. I just couldn’t picture spending the day wiping my makeup off over and over as I blew my nose, and so decided I’d be better off flying drab, and I sullenly packed away my skirt and dug out the damned blue jeans.

I was half way out the door and headed for  the airport when I realized that I’d forgotten something! I left my bags in the hall and went back in to my room where I opened the refrigerator and grabbed the bags of Cheese Turds.