The Texas T Party is Over (sigh)

By Bobbi Williams


Here's a rundown on some adventures connected to the Texas T Party from the Central Texas Transgender Society's
perspective and through the eyes of Bobbi Williams, the CTTS Web Mistress.


Like all good things, it went too fast. It began when three of the us girls got together at Minnie's Thursday morning to have out nails done. As a result, we didn't leave Austin, Texas 'til 2:30 in the afternoon. If you can call two vans a caravan, then that's what we were. In our own version of the "Central Texas Does Priscilla" tour we traveled en femme to Dallas, arriving around 6:30. And it's a good thing we were already dressed. We had just enough time to register (thanks Francine!), slip into our semi-formal outfits, head to the cash bar and, finding a line all the way across the lobby, dash on into the ballroom where another, uncrowded, cash bar awaited us.

Dinner consisted of the standard convention fare ("Is this chicken? Are you sure...it tastes like chicken...sort of...but then again, a lot of things taste like chicken.") Afterward, a bunch of us cruised down to the Oak Lawn area. (No...that's not a cemetery; we're weird, but not THAT weird.) We went to Sue Ellen's, a mostly lesbian bar, and found...mostly lesbians. But there were a bunch of others from the T Party and we spent time watching the go-go dancers (I'm not making that up) who were quite good. (Flashback here to the 60's when I dreamed of one day being a Golddigger on the Dean Martin Show, but that's another adventure.) After a couple of drinks, we cruised on out (3 blocks in the cold in 5" heels; I should have taken a hint from the girls at Sue Ellen's...all those sensible shoes.)

The next day at 11:15 I decided it was time to get up. I asked Ericka if she had a lunch ticket and, as it turned out, neither of us did, so we called room service and spent the next 3 hours watching an awful movie on HBO. (Pretty exciting stuff. There we were in Dallas with nails out to here, but neither of us was with any energy; I guess the ride wore us out.) By 3:00, I decided I'd better get moving, since my wife was due to arrive at Dallas-Fort Worth Airport at 5:55 and I didn't know what kind of traffic there'd be. Donna dropped by, so I invited her to join me (since Ericka wasn't anywhere near herself yet) and we left at 4:15. Or so I thought.

About five miles from the airport I turn to Donna and asked what time it is.

"Three forty-five," she says.

I shake my head "You mean four forty-five."

She shakes HER head. "Nope...three forty-five."

So I turn on the radio...and sure enough. As it turns out, the clock in the hotel room was an hour fast. So now we're almost at DFW airport and it's two hours before the plane gets in. "What should we do?" I ask Donna.

Donna shrugs. (She's good at that.) "Park the van and we'll go in and have a drink."

I feel a twinge in my lower lip; my eye starts to itch. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

She grins. "Hey," she say. "If anybody gives me any crap, I'll kick his ass. Did you know I know some karate?"

"O.K.," I say. "And if anybody gives ME any crap I'll tell them that you'll kick their ass too." And I park the car and off we go. Into the airport, into the lobby, and through the metal detector. Did you know that those spike heels have a steel rod in them?

"Step this way, please, m'am," the security guard says. "Put your arms out, away from your sides."

I can hear Donna giggling ahead of me as the guard waves the wand up and down my body, stopping at the floor. "It's your shoes," she says, smiling. "Thank you ma'm."

I grab my purse and dash after Donna. "She called me ma'm," I say.

"That's why you did it, isn't it?"

"What?"

"You were hoping they'd frisk you."

I shake my head. For someone who was petrified about coming out only six months ago, Donna has certainly become the bold one. But then again, if I knew karate I might be bolder too.

We stop at the doorway to the bar. It's a sports bar. I can tell Donna is rethinking going in. "Hey," I say. "if we were real girls, what would we be doing in a sports bar?"

Donna smiles. "Looking for sports," she says, then laughs.

"Exactly. So let's go get a frozen yogurt."

Donna sighs. We walk to the yogurt kiosk and I get a cup of strawberry and sit down in the waiting area. After about twenty minutes of eating yogurt, reading the paper, and watching the planes taxi, Donna nudges me. "At least there's someone else having fun here."

"Oh?"

She nods in the direction of the next group of seats. Two women are seated by the window; one is holding a baby; the other is trying not to laugh too loud. Tears are running down her cheeks. Donna does a very swishy little wave at her and now it looks like she's about to spit up. "Better they should laugh," Donna says, "than get irate."

"I suppose so," I say. "What time is it now?"

"Time to get the car."

We walk back to the parking lot, bring the car around, and when my wife comes out she rolls her eyes, then grins, tosses her luggage in the back, and hops in beside me. "Hi Bobbi," she says, and I know everything is going to be just fine.


Part II: "Of Nails and Toothbrushes"

What I didn't mention in Part I was the three hours or so it took to get ready to leave for the airport and why Ericka didn't go. You see, she's just the forgetful type. (No blonde jokes please; she's an auburn-haired cutie.) You see, neither was of us was very happy with the nail job, but we were living with it. On Friday afternoon, after the movie had ended, she announced that she had had enough and was going to trim hers. And that's when she noticed that she hadn't brought any nail gear--no scissors, no, file, no emory boards, nothing. "I'll go to the gift shop," she announced.

I shook my head. "No gift shop," I said. "They're renovating the hotel, remember?"

"Hmmm," she mused. "Then I'll go to the drug store. I saw one right down the street."

"OK," I said. "And you can get me a toothbrush."

Of course, she wasn't actually dressed yet. So the next issue had to do with what the reaction might be if this fellow in his twenties walks in and flashes those lovely long, red nails.

"You can get away with it, hon'" I said. "You're young. And this is Dallas. They'll just think you're a pop star. If you like, I'll come along and talk in a British accent and call you Iggy. 'ey Iggy, izzat Ringo hangin' from the ceilin'?"

She smirked. "No need," she said, grabbing the van keys off the dresser. "I'll be right back."

And back she was, very proud of herself. "Not a word," she said. "They didn't even smirk."

I smiled. "I'm proud of you."

But the test wasn't over. Barely five minutes passed when she came out of the bathroom wearing a sour grin. "I forgot my deodorant."

I shook my head. "Shoulda been a blonde," I said.

"The van?" she asked.

"You've still got the keys," I said, and called after her "And you forgot my toothbrush!" But it was too late.

When she returned she dashed into the bathroom with nary a word....until she emerged once more, grumbling and grousing. "Q-Tips? I asked?"

"Cotton balls," was all she replied.

And still, no toothbrush.

So it was that Donna appeared and she and I headed out to the airport. (But I've already told that story .)

That evening's events were pleasant enough. Lee and his wife had arrived and Laura was at the dinner in one of her new dresses. We turned in fairly early and the next morning I called the front desk. "Could you please send up a toothbrush?"

"You forgot your toothbrush?" my wife asked.

"Not exactly," I said.

"What do you mean not exactly?"

"I mean, I brought it, but it's not good any more."

"What did you do? Did you drop it in the toilet?"

I shook my head. "You see," I began, "I was reading this article, I think it was in Cosmo or Elle or something. And it said that a good way to tame unruly eyebrows is to put a little hair spray on a toothbrush and then brush the brows upward, like this." I motioned with my finger.

"So you used your toothbrush on your eyebrows." she said.

I nodded.

She shook her head. "I don't think I'll ever understand all of this."

I chuckled. "What's to understand?" I said. "Just enjoy." And with that I dashed back into the bathroom and began to get ready for the day.

The day, as we had planned it, would consist primarily of a shopping trip. As part of her job, my wife travels to Dallas frequently and on her last trip she bought me four pair of shoes which she'd found at the Dillard's Clearance Mart in Arlington. The bargains there, she said, were fabulous and so we planned an outing there and visits to some other discount and outlet shops she knew.

Lee's wife would be joining us on the excursion, as well as Ericka and Donna. The little group would consist of two girls and three, er...girls. We all piled into Donna's van and headed down the highway to Arlington.

The wives sat in the back. (You just can't escape some conventional behavior, can you?) Donna and Ericka sat up front. And I sat in the middle seat, conveying information from back to front whenever necessary. In fact, I even conveyed it when it wasn't necessary.

"You know," my wife said, "if I tell you something, I'm telling YOU something, not Donna."

I gave her a quizzical look, practicing the art of arching a hair sprayed eyebrow.

"Pardon?" I asked.

"If I tell you that Donna's got a cute dimple that doesn't man you have to turn to Donna and say 'My wife thinks you have a cute dimple. OK?"

"What?" Donna called out, having caught her name in our conversation. "What's that?"

"My wife says," I began. "Oh...er...nothing." I said. "Nothing, dear."

Fortunately for me, we pulled into the Dillard's parking lot right then and Donna began to search for a parking place.

"Oh my," she said. "It's crowded."

"When I came before it was on a week day," my wife remarked. "I guess Saturday's their big day."

"I guess it is," said Donna, pulling into an empty space. "This is just about as close as I can get."

Inside, we were shocked to see...empty shelves. Only about a fourth of the nearly 20 or so racks set up to display shoes were stocked. The dress racks were full, but a quick scan of our sizes didn't produce much. And what was left of`the skirt and blouse selections was slim. After about twenty minutes we reassembled. I was carrying three dresses.

"Gonna try them on?" Donna asked.

I glanced toward the dressing rooms, noticing the attendant who was checking and counting as ladies came in and out. "I don't know."

"It's up to you," my wife said.

I mulled it over. "I don't think so," I said, placing the dresses back on the rack. "Let's go."

Once back on the road we discussed reactions.

"None," Donna said.

"Me neither," said Ericka.

"Good," I said. "But I 'm just not ready for the dressing rooms."

The trip to the other stores was quick. There was a discount shoe store, an accessory shop, and a formal wear shop in the same strip mall. We started at the shoe store, worked our way to the accessories, and completed the tour at the formals shop. And none of us had a problem anywhere. In fact, we didn't even appear to attract attention.

My favorite thing was trying on shoes. There were lots of nice styles, but what I was after was something sensible. I realized that an era had passed for me. I don't need (nor do I want) any more 5" spike heels. Yes. I want shoes that look attractive, but I want also want shoes that I can walk in and wear all day if I want to.

And this store had none of those. There were a couple pair of Pappagallo flats that were attractive, but they weren't comfortable. They pinched in the wrong places. So I passed on them. But Donna went ga-ga for the purses.

"Look here," she said, showing me a pair of beige purses. "And look at the prices."

"Very nice," I said.

The wives, over in the size sixes, had their own interests.

"I can't find anything," I said.

"Nothing you like?" Donna asked.

"Oh...no," I said. "Lots I like, but nothing I need."

Which is how the shopping trip ended for me. The formal wear seemed somehow made for girls who might ride elephants in the circus or assist magicians, and the accessories were mostly gold and rhinestones, but not much silver, which is what I really needed.

So off we went again, back to the hotel in time to dress for the evening....all except Ericka.

"What's the matter?" Donna asked when we got to our room."

Ericka sighed. "I have nothing to wear," she said.

"How original," my wife said.

"But I don't. I only have one formal dress, the one I wore to dinner last night."

Donna smiled. "There's a mall across the highway," she said. "I wouldn't mind shopping some more." And off they went.

My wife and I dressed for dinner, went downstairs, and found an empty table in the middle of the dining room. I placed two chairs askew. "For Donna and Ericka," I said.

"I hope they're all right," my wife said.

"No problem," I said. "If anyone gives them any trouble, Donna will kick his ass."

She laughed and I went off to get drinks.

Soon we were joined by girls from Houston (a retired radar operator for NASA), Miami (a lawyer), Virginia (a nurse who worked as an anesthesiologist's assistant), and Julie, a communications engineer from Dallas. And before long, by Ericka (in an ankle-length sheath she bought at the mall. (When I asked Donna about their second excursion, she just rolled her eyes.)

The rest of the night was filled with various and sundry thank you's and awards and capped with a performance by Jill from Vancouver, Canada, who sang (no lip syncing) and dashed through a wide range of costume changes. Each new outfit and tune stimulated another round of applause. (We DO love those outfit changes, don't we?)

Afterward, we sat in the hotel lounge area (what passed for a lounge, in the hotel's renovative state) and made more connections, met new friends, and ran into old ones. (Fortunately for some of the girls, the Fashion Police had the night off.) And as midnight rolled around, one by one, we quietly slid off to our rooms. By morning, much like Sleeping Beauty, we had returned to our drab existence, commenting as we drove off that, like most good things, it all went too fast and was over too soon.


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