It was about 11:30 when we picked up to leave Slack Alice. The
television show had been a big success and the TG segment had been
really outstanding.
We were out the door with Justine in the lead. She moved through the
street like she owned it, brazen and intentional. She also kept up a
good pace which was a problem because the sandals I was wearing had
developed a heel strap malfunction and I had to keep stopping to adjust
them.
Marjina also had a shoe problem creating a slight hobble in her gait. I
realized later that the hobble, though exacerbated by the shoes, was
indigenous to Marjina who seemed to have some other congenital problems
which stood out from time to time.
The Screamer
The streets were empty now, save for the few people who like us were in
transit between bars. Justine did a running narrative as we walked,
either sharing intimate details about her life, “I used to be a TG
hooker...but now I’m HIV positive” or to comment on passers by, “see
that I guy...I’d do him but he probably thinks I’m too old for him..”
then she’d yell, “Hi cutie...nice boots!...Nice butt too!”
Marjina took it in stride, laughing sometime, staying quiet at others. I
reacted pretty much like Marjina but really didn’t know how to take it.
Sometimes I envied her brash openness, sometimes, particularly in the case of
some cruel or prejudice comments, I silently disagreed.
I’d seen this kind of behavior fairly often in the Gay
community...”screamers” they used to call them. People, who because
they were classified as a societal fringe person, seem to feel they
could make disparaging or prejudice comments about others.
Though I’ve never been an openly prejudiced person myself, I decided
that I, in light of my own differences, no longer had the right to be
negative about anyone’s culture or lifestyle. It seems contradictory to
be closed minded and discriminating while also endeavoring to expand the
general public’s acceptance of diverse gender identities and sexual
preferences.
About 50 feet from the entrance of Crown’s I spotted two TG girls coming
toward us from across the street.
“Oh,no”, said Justine with obvious disgust, “it’s Betty and
elephan-Tina”
“elephan-Tina” was apparently Justine’s term of endearment for Tina an
overweight TS given to wearing unnecessarily revealing halter tops.
Today’s halter revealed a plethora of loose beige skin which vibrated
busily.
“Hi” hailed a smiling Betty, who like myself, Justine and Marjina was
under 5’6’’.Tina smiled quietly in the background.
“Hi”, responded Marjina warmly, “How are you? We didn’t see you at the
show (Slack Alice)”
Justine stared at the ground to avoid making eye contact.
“Oh, yeah...how did that go?” Betty continued to talk to Marjina but
looked at me...
“We were at Columbia...It’s ladies night”, she laughed
and winked flirtatiously at me...I didn’t mind. I thought she was cute.
“It was good”, continued Marjina, “you would have liked it”
Now Justine was starting to nervously shuffle her feet. The more Marjina
continued the conversation the more Justine fidgeted.
“This is Cissy....from
Chicago”, Marjina introduced kicking off a round of “Hi’s” and flirty
feminine handshakes. Justine stayed out of it...the tension building.
“You’re
being awfully quiet”, Betty said, not
content to let sleeping dogs lie...
“What...did you say something”, glared
Justine, her stare had the potential to burn a hole through a metal plate.
There was an uncomfortable silence...it felt like the stage was being set for
an ugly scene...Marjina jumped in to prevent it...
“We’re going over to...”
“We’re just going out and we’re late...bye, gotta go...” and with that
remark Justine grabbed Marjina’s arm and pulled it in the direction of our
destination.
“So ‘friendly’”, asserted Betty bitterly, “what’s up her butt?!”
“You didn’t seem to like those two”, I said, stating the obvious.
“That Tina smells”, said Justine as I looked incredulous, “no, really.
She never bathes, just stinks and Betty...she’s always looking for a
handout...whenever we go out I always end up paying!” Marjina nodded to
affirm the truth of Justine’s explanation. “and you...”, shot Justine as she
targeted Marjina, “you were gonna tell them where we were going...feeling
rich tonight?” “I was just being friendly, that’s all”, defended Marjina,
sounding like a scolded child. “Yeah well...shit!...lets just go”, and
Justine led the way.
Crown’s was another of those mysteriously unmarked gay bars. Its
cavernous and dimly lit interior a fitting backdrop for the quiet and
secretive romances and seductions it often plays host to. The large
back room of the bar doubles as a disco and show lounge. Tonight the
show, Miss Daisy’s All Girl Review, was already in progress.
We stood at the back of the noisy room apparently the only TG “girls”in
the bar with the exception of the extraordinarily passable drag queens
on or back stage. The lights flashed and the prerecorded music blared
as Josephine, an international award winning female impersonator,
finished performing her rendition of the Donna Summer disco hit, Last
Dance.
Then Miss Daisy, the MC and the senior lady of the review...”She’s been
around forever”, yelled Justine in my ear... stepped out on stage to
spotty applause and general friendly jeering.
“All right, I heard that” admonished Miss Daisy, “now, wasn’t Josephine
beautiful?”, more applause, “lets bring her out for another curtsy, how
‘bout it Jo?”, more applause...delay...silence...then an unintelligible
remark from back stage...”oh, I see...Well kids, Jo is busy turning back into
a boy...you know how important that is...”, laughing form the crowd.
Justine, feisty as ever, had managed to find us a front and center table and
get us drinks. She whispered something to Marjina, pointed us in the
direction of the table and left, I presumed, for the ladies room. It turns
out she left the bar for home.
“She gets tired”, explained Marjina when I asked about Justine’s sudden
disappearance, “you know she has to be careful because of the HIV...”
Marjina and I stayed for 4 more performers and 1 more drink and then I
convinced her that I really had to go...given that it was past 1am and I had
to be at work by 7:30am. We stood and started to walk out.
“Hey! Where are you going”, accosted Miss Daisy from the stage, “we were just
getting started”. We just waved daintily over our shoulders and kept moving.
The streets were very dim and empty now. This area, which had been so
friendly earlier in the day had taken on an eerie feeling. An agitated
man paced under the light of a closed Mr. Chicken restaurant while
intermittently yelling obscenities and kicking at some invisible
tormentor in the concrete. A voice from a dark and distant corner
responded to him by yelling “Shut Up!”.
Marjina seemed unaffected by this but she offered to walk me to my car.
Both her invitation and my acceptance of it seemed to confirm our shared
anxiety about the potential threats of this setting. I followed Marjina as
she headed off in what seemed to be the wrong direction. She had had several
drinks in the recent past and in spite of her sweet and generous intent...I
began to doubt her ability to lead the way.
“Shouldn’t we be going in that direction”, I suggested.
“No-no...this is right...(she sounded doubtful and looked for some
landmark)...yes, right over here”
But she was wrong. We were now walking the perimeter of an empty and
foreboding lot which was a good two blocks from the center of Boystown.
The only other people here looked lost as well.
“You know I recognize that building over there...can we try going this
way?”, I suggested after too much time had passed.
Marjina, who was hobbling worse than usual, eventually succumbed. We
changed direction and she took credit for the improved navigation,
“Yes...yes this is right...I told you we were going the right way.”
“Whatever”, muttered to myself.
After having had a lovely and unnecessary “stroll” through the
frightening edges of Boystown we finally got to my car. Marjina declined a
ride claiming to live only a block from there...”But do you know which
block?”, I thought to myself. I also promised to call her the following
night if I had an interest in going out. A nice offer in spite of her
questionable sense of direction.
I drove off...getting lost several times on the way back to my hotel. By the
time I got to bed it was 2:30am ... 4 hours of sleep, not bad.
Wednesday was filled with work, client concerns, struggling to stay
awake and a late dinner with co-workers. I got away for a few minutes
to call Marjina and apologize for my lack of time and adventure...but
this girl needed a rest.
Rachel Arrives-
I woke with renewed energy on Thursday. I had time to try on a few
outfits before actually getting ready for work. I was getting excited in
anticipation of Rachel and what I hoped would be a big night out on the town.
“Hmmm”, I thought, “these things just won’t do. Now if I remember
correctly the dollar is worth about 30% more here...yes, yes that’s
correct,...I believe I need a shopping trip...right after work!”
Now Rachel was due to arrive at around 5:30 and I had cleverly managed
to close up work with the client by 3:00pm. Nice work on my part...now
all I needed was a shopping mall. I retraced some of my steps from
Tuesday night’s “driving lost at 2:00am” episode and sure enough the
mall remembered was really there.
“Spring Sale!”...Boy did my credit cards get a work out:
Store #1- New lingerie (they thought it was for my wife and put it in
special fru-fru gift wrapping)
Store #2- A new “little black dress”...well actually black and
sleeveless with summer flowers and a new satin blouse (they also thought it
was for my wife...more fru-fru gift wrapping)
Store #3- Juniors...a long
floral skirt and a light sweater cover up (I needed something to help with my
less girlish biceps...the problem with sleeveless) I also made eyes at some
jewelry and belts but thought better of it (I don’t know what the young
proprietress of this store thought...but I didn’t get any fru-fru gift
wrapping this time)
Now it was almost 5pm and if Rachel was running on time then I wasn’t
going to be fully enfemme when she got there. I hated that idea...I’ve
always made a point of being completely “put together” when meeting up
TG friends and supporters and now I wasn’t going to be able to pull it
off.
I tried to get as close as I could. First I quickly tried on all of the new
stuff to make sure it fit...I’d only have a short time to return it if it
didn’t. Then I took a quick shower and managed to jump into all of the
undies I needed for the new dress. I was just zipping it up when the phone
rang...Rachel!
Damn it...no make up...no hair...just a guy in a dress. Rachel was on
her way up and I didn’t want her to see me like this. I started digging
through my suitcase and grabbed the wig I planned to wear tonight...it needed
a serious combing out. I gave it a good shaking which brought most of the
curls back to life. Knock-Knock...damn she was fast!
I shoved the wig on my head and headed for the door. Fortunately I
caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror...the wig was on sideways,
Jesus...okay slightly better but boy did I need a shave. I opened the
door and there she was...the long expected Rachel.
“Hi, c’mon in...have a seat”, I tried to act like I was already made
up...I felt so incomplete and off balance.
Rachel was on the tall side but very convincing even in minimal make
up. She had one of her “played down” looks...short feminine hair,
simple top and shorts...she told me about how she had progressively
changed form boy to girl during her long drive from Montreal.
I apologized for my obvious lack of readiness. “As you can see I have a
lot of work to here”, referring to my five o’clock shadow. We had our
initial “getting to know you” conversation, raided the mini-bar for
some after school snacks, and decided that we would go to the TTAC
meeting first. Then I went into my getting ready routine while Rachel
switched between watching TV and getting stuff from her car.
It turned out that Rachel didn’t have a hotel room which was interesting in
light of a few but sexy e-mail flirtations between us: On one hand I
thought...”How forward! My we do assume a lot...I’m not that easy!” On the
other hand I thought...”She looks pretty sexy...how convenient! On yet
another hand (or some other appendage) I thought...”All she really wants is a
place to stay...be generous and stop reading something into this! Or not...”
Things were going pretty smoothly with the make up process but I was
worried about Rachel’s patience. She’d already watched about an hour’s
worth of mindless afternoon reruns and I was concerned that she would
become edgy.
I gave her a copy of the story which covered my last Toronto trip...the
one where I spilled nail polish in my room. Judging from her laughter I
think she found it entertaining.
It turned out to be my fastest transition to date ...and not bad by the
time I had finished. I was really sorry I hadn’t looked this good for
Rachel’s arrival. Everything was done but the nails...I had a simple
red polish in mind but we were running awfully late. The TTAC thing
only ran to about 10pm and we didn’t really get going till about 8pm.
After a fairly unremarkable exit from the hotel, as usual I had staked
out the route of least exposure, we were speeding along the route which
would quickly return us to Boystown.
Rachel’s car silently bespoke volumes about her priorities. A big aging
American car from the late 70’s, the vehicle magically hung together with
flecks of what used to be gold metallic paint. Initially, this particular
personal effect seemed incongruous with Rachel’s presentation of herself,
(Hell, I expected a late model Gran Prix with a cell phone and CD player),
but then I imagined that she’d been investing her discretionary income much
the way I had of late...
“Well lets see now...that’s two sweaters, silk blouse, boned corset,
days of the week panties, two peasant skirts, high button boots,
earrings, necklace, bracelet and a shit-load of eye shadow....yes
that’ll be....$500.00 please”
“Wow...less than I expected”, as I handed over the last of my active
credit cards
“Yeah, you were lucky today, the bracelet was on sale!”
We got into a conversation about driving enfemme and having to deal
with unexpected and potentially exposing events with representatives of
the law. I told Linda about the time I was forced into a Police
roadblock in NYC, she countered with a story about how she avoided a
serious and very public accident with split second reaction time.
That’s when she almost lost control of the car again. “What are you
doing?”, she asked in an accusing manner swerving slightly as she
glanced over to confirm the item I had produced from my purse.
“I thought I’d finish up, I never got a chance to put on my nail
polish....”
“I don’t know”, she said with great doubt in voice, “you don’t have a
good history with nail polish...”
“Oh, the story....hmmm...I see what you mean, I guess you don’t want to
take a chance on a repeat performance...”, although I privately thought
that a little splash of summer scarlet might dress up the sad interior.
We parked in the same Boystown lot I had used the night before and then
rushed over to the TTAC benefit. We paid the entry fee, received our
raffle tickets and then we were asked to help clean up because the event was
ending in 30 minutes. They were already packing up the food which was too
bad because I hadn’t eaten much all day and was starving.
Out On the Town...Again-
Justine was in her element, flitting around the place, hopping from
conversation to conversation, the Belle of the ball. Marjina rushed
over with a warm greeting and then proceeded to introduce us around.
There were probably 30 people still present. As was apparent the night
before, TTAC was comprised of many forms and varieties of Transgendered
expression from occasional crossdressers to post-operative transsexuals.
Many of the people I had met two nights before were present, providing
an interesting opportunity for me to see them in a different light...the
unkind flourescents of the community center. ( I simultaneously worried about
the effects the harsh lighting having my own rushed make up job) They
generally held up quite well. Nikki, now enfemme, had made a wonderful
transition and looked lovely in a short summery dress. Jean and Karen, the
television producers were also there as was the lovely post-op Laurina and
her mother Jan.
Rachel and I were introduced to several other male to female
transsexuals. A couple of them seemed especially enthused to meet me and I
was fairly certain that some quick and mutual sexual vibes were exchanged. As
the party entered its last minutes, Marjina announced the big raffle. Those
of us who had purchased the extra “chance” tickets paid rapt attention as she
reached in to the bowl of ticket stubs and began producing winners.
The first person to win something was Rachel.
“Number 45675”, yelled Justine, the usual Mick Jagger haughtiness in her
voice. “That’s me!”, responded Rachel “Last in, first out”, I thought to
myself. Wondering if Marjina had unintentionally fixed the draw by failing
to mix the numbers up. “Wow, breakfast at Kirby’s....there’s one of those in
Montreal! Thanks!”, offered a gracious Rachel. “Number 45679” “Whoa....that’s
me!”, now I was embarrassed....too much coincidence. I opened the prize
envelope...another free meal in Canada...I hoped Rachel could use it.
“Thanks, everyone....what a great prize!” “Number 46741” Rachel and I looked
nervously at our tickets, relieved that we didn’t win anything else.
Now that 10pm was approaching the party quickly deteriorated. As the
last raffle prizes were distributed people buzzed around while Justine
took a break from her harried rush to catch up with us.
“Did you want to go out after this...we were gonna have dinner...”
Dinner....I thought I’d never see dinner
“Well, actually I could use something”, Rachel said hopefully.
Apparently she was wondering if she would see an evening meal herself.
The post-party plans were still unfolding as we waited on the community
center patio for our hosts. Rachel and I were beginning to wonder if
Justine had forgotten about us....that’s when Betty and Tina showed up.
“Hi, you wanna go somewhere with us...we’re going to dinner?”, Invited
Betty as Tina stood grinning in the background, her trademark bare
midriff halter making a grand salute to loose flesh..
I tried to introduce Rachel but had forgotten their real names.
“Elephantina” was the only name I could recall and I didn’t think that
was the way she wanted to be introduced. Thankfully, Betty did a quick
round of introductions.
With Justine and Marjina still busy dashing around inside, Rachel and I
discussed the serious possibility of heading off with Betty and Tina.
Suddenly the patio door burst open. Justine, who has remarkable radar
when it comes to these two appeared as a Specter in the patio doorway,
her petite frame suddenly foreboding, magnified by back lighting from
the interior glare.
“Are you coming with us or not?”, she asked offensively.
“Well, I uh...” I stuttered, suddenly feeling as though I’d been caught
in a betrayal.
At the sound of Justine’s voice, Betty turned away sharply “...Guess
we’ll see you some other time”...she shot bitterly over her shoulder and
headed for the street, Tina in tow, as they fled Justine’s “territory”.
“Well??”, snapped Justine, “shall we???”. Rachel and I snapped to, making
weird eye contact with one another as we “marched” with Justine well in the
lead.
Now we were in another Justine parade. Rachel, me and Marjina. Justine
talked a blue streak, yelling seductive things at unsuspecting male
bystanders and complaining loudly about selected passersby. Rachel was
astounded by Justine’s display and angered by her occasional
discriminatory remarks.
As it turned out the delay to any kind of dinner would seem
interminable. First we had to stop to return the folders and boxes we
had been asked to carry to the TTAC office. Then we headed off to dinner
taking “the long way” so Justine could give us the Gay history tour of
Boystown.
“See that place over there? Ya see it, “Joey’s”? They used to let us
girls hang out there but in the late 80’s they got all paranoid about
being associated with Femmes...so they kicked us out and grew them
friggin goatees! Now they’re sooo macho!”, she made large yet feminine
gestures. “Hey baby...nice pants...you think I’m too old for you?!”, she
yelled at someone leaving Joey’s.
We finally reached the streetside dining area of Mario’s by 11:15pm. I
was glad to see they were still open. In spite of the bodyshaper I was
wearing, I planned to eat a hearty amount of pizza...I was famished and
after all of the unexpected blocks we walked, my feet were killing me.
We sat down and I, thinking that the night was just beginning, finally
did my nails while we waited for our server to bring the drinks. Rachel and
I had our favorite girl drink, Red Wine, Marjina preferred beer and Justine,
out of healthy respect for the HIV virus she carried, ordered sparkling
water...it’s hard to believe that she could be so wound up and animated
without the help of alcohol.
Justine must have run out of juice because there was a welcome silence.
I checked in with myself...”Wow” I thought...”I’m actually Cissy
tonight!” With all of the running around, jumping from one situation to
another, I had forgotten to be self conscious. I was in it, in my life
as me, Cissy, not playacting or pretending, I was her and I loved being
her. Sitting here in the midst of this strange and colorful melodrama, I
welcomed my missing piece, the sweet forgotten girl who’s been living inside
me all of these years.
The realization gave me a chill and my eyes filled with tears of
happiness. This was a private thing, nobody could tell. I looked at the
world through my tears, the street lights had become a kaleidoscope of color.
An image began to form...a bird flying toward us, growing larger as it moved
into the foreground.
It swooped down, unnoticed by the others and perched on Marjina’s head. She
continued to read her menu as though the bird wasn’t there...it was Jonathan,
the seagull. He sat there for a while just looking at me gently.
He began to move around... he cocked his head then bobbed up and down. I
understood...I took his message to mean “Yes...you’re getting there!” He
turned his wing in an odd position, another gesture, I think he was giving me
an affirming “thumbs up” sign. I felt warm inside...I was getting there.
Now he came closer. He jumped down onto the table and walked over to
me, he stood on my menu and pecked intensely at line which read
“Mario’s Special #4”. “ What cosmic meaning could this have?”, I
wondered.
He gestured some more, really trying hard to communicate something. He
nodded his head wildly from side to side. Suddenly I understood, his
message became clear. In his wisdom he communicated something
critically important to me about this moment...”don’t get #4...the
Spinach Linguine” he gestured, “you won’t like it.” Then he flew away.
Given that we were the only customers at the moment, the waiter seemed
inexplicably preoccupied. So we continued to wait. Soon we were joined
by two other groups.
A group of about six guys, presumably gay, based on looks, location and
demeanor, sat down at the table next to us. A second group, apparently
a group of women moved toward us from the street. Based on their
trajectory they were headed for the table directly behind us. As they
approached, they radiated an air of familiarity...Justine noticed first.
“What’s that smell?...You smell that?”, questioned Justine, her back to
the approaching group.
“No...”, we all agreed.
“Elephantina! And that cheapskate Betty!”, muttered Justine into the
surface of the table.
“Hi Girls!”, yelled Betty, more brazen than earlier in the evening.
“Nice night for a dinner out here....huh Justine?” She was still
gunning for Justine...
“I guess so, ...Betty.” she said her name with great disgust, never
turning her body to make eye contact. “That’s if you can find somebody
to buy it”, she said more confidentially to us.
“What? I didn’t get that. You say something Justine?”, tested Betty.
“Yes...”lovely evening” I said”, replied Justine.
“Oh”, said Betty and then she said something to her table mates which
generated some evil laughter.
“Freakin Bitch”, whispered Justine, who seemed to be stung by the
giggles.
The waiter finally materialized...
“I’ll have the spinach linguine”, requested Marjina. I choked on my wine a
little...maybe I should tell her to change her order.
“Cissy and I will share a pepperoni”, offered Rachel as she pointed to
me (a foreshadowing comment...little did I know) .
“Dinner Salad”, requested the terse Justine.
Rachel kept us entertained us with anecdotes from her bizarre life while we
waited for dinner...
“...I was just standing there when he offered me $50.00 to lick my
fishnets...he ended up liking them so much he gave me $60.00!...of
course I threw the stockings away but I was easily able to afford new
ones...”
“Well you’ve been around about as much as I have”, competed Justine.
“...oh I don’t know about that...you look like you’ve definitely been
around...”, competed Rachel in return.
“is that so...I suppose you mean that in a good way...”, nudged Justine.
“oh, yes...of course...”, returned Rachel unconvincingly.
“Well what’s the strangest thing you’ve done as a woman?”, asked Marjina once
again taking on the role tension breaker.
Rachel snapped out of her building snit....”well I tried out for an
American game show...”
“No kidding...which one?”, I asked
“The Dating game?”, edged Justine
“No (she shot an admonishing glance at Justine), it was Password...you
know where you have to guess the word from your partner’s clues.”
“That’s hilarious!”, I chimed in, “how did that go over”
“I actually made it to the second round but I think they got suspicious
when I wouldn’t show them my driver’s license or give them my home
address...the producer politely excused me and a blind guy from
Fresno...it made for quite a trip to LA though.”
“Where are you staying?”, asked Marjina whose interest in Rachel might
have been more that professional.
“Well we haven’t quite cleared that up yet”, she looked over at me for
some cue.
“Oh, I guess we’ll let her stay in my room...I’d hate for her to sleep
in her car”, both Rachel and I knew that my simple rescue was also an
invitation...but it was still unclear as to what the occasion would be.
“Really, you’re not gonna sleep in your car? You can stay at my
place.”, offered Marjina...not having registered my previous comment.
“Wouldn’t be the first time...but this time fortunately Cissy’s willing
to be my host.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”, Marjina commented, registering the developing
connection between Rachel and me.
Dinner was otherwise uneventful and once I had consumed my pizza I was
seriously uncomfortable as my underwear fought back. I needed to move
around or I would probably explode and as this was going to be the big
night out in Gay Toronto...I felt we should get moving.