California Dreamin' 1998
By Kathleen
I recently had the opportunity to attend California Dreamin' which was held in San Francisco this year. These are my thoughts on one of the most memorable experiences of my life. Prior to the conference, Kathleen had been out of the house only once. That day was at last year's event on the Queen Mary. I like to still refer to that day as my baptism of fire. There have been various reasons why I had not gone out or joined a support group since that day in April. That day had been an emotionally draining experience and I seemed to have had my fill of being out in public for a while. On my only previous night out I had joined my friends in leaving the friendly environs of the Queen Mary to visit the famous Queen Mary club (not to be confused with the ship.) We then stopped at an all-night restaurant where we were not only read, but whistled and hooted at. It was not an experience that I particularly enjoyed and one I did not want to repeat in the near future. Perhaps the biggest reason for my not going out more was that I had a non-supportive SO who would have been horrified to think that I was driving around Los Angeles dressed as a woman. I did not want to create any further tension in our relationship. Perhaps it was laziness too. Going out in public is a lot different than dressing in the privacy of my own home. Last year, Leona had done an excellent job in giving me a makeover, but I had no clue as to how to recreate that look. I didn't have the time to do my homework and practice, practice, practice. I was too busy with my other activities. Perhaps it was also a self-esteem problem. As in other areas of my life, I did not like my appearance and felt that I would never be able to make myself beautiful and passable.
There was a time recently, when I came to the realization that I was not an ordinary crossdresser. I wasn't content in being a girl on weekends and returning to a masculine persona during the week. Kathleen and my male side have become the same person in psyche and increasingly in appearance. In fact, it is my Kathleen side that pretty much runs my life on a day to day basis. Dressing up is not so much an issue anymore, as I am almost always dressed. In fact, I now detest my male clothes and resent the occasions when I need to wear them. Although I very much wanted to attend the conference in 1998, I knew that was a whole year away so I didn't need to worry.
Time certainly flies by. It was February when I realized that I had better start making decisions. I should secure a hotel reservation before it sold out, practice my makeup and make sure that I had the proper clothes for a 4 day affair. Most importantly, I had to make the big decision whether I was going to go or not and, if so, present the news to my SO.
In mid-April, during one of my weekly sessions with my therapist, I related to her that I was feeling a little "blue" without an explanation. Things were not going well at work, but that was an everyday condition for me. I felt sad, but I could not put my finger on the reason. My therapist, Marie, is one of the most incredible and insightful people that I have ever met. She was able to very quickly figured out that I was sad about the prospect of not going to San Francisco, though that was where my heart was. I told her that I did not know how to break the news to my SO about my desire to do this. She would surely disapprove quite vehemently. She said that I should for once stop thinking about the concerns of other people and start treating myself better. Not only did I want to go to this event, I felt a deep-seated feeling that I really needed to do this.
Things worked out better than I expected. When I told my girlfriend about my strong desire to go. She put her hands over her ears and said, "If you want to go, fine. I don't want to hear anything about it!" I took this as a yes. Now I was getting excited. I booked hotel reservations and secured a flight and paid my convention fees.
It was now one week before the convention and I was in a panic. What would I wear? I had a huge wardrobe, but did I have all of the right pieces to be presentable? Did I have the right accessories? I started to read up more on make-up tips and started practicing. I had not even shaved with a razor for years. Rushed to the cosmetic counter and the drug stores to pick up all kinds of items.
I knew exactly how my SO was going to behave the Sunday evening before the trip. We were dining at an intimate restaurant. As sure as clockwork she started to argue about something. She suddenly dropped her fork on her plate and sat there motionless. I asked her what was wrong. She replied, "Nothing". Nothing is more uncomfortable than sitting with a woman in a restaurant in silence. In the past I would have gotten upset and apologized to her even if it wasn't my fault. I would do anything just to break the silence. Thanks to Marie I felt very comfortable and confident. I just sat there nonchalantly and ate my dinner. I think she was surprised at my reaction. She looked at me, gave me a smirk and then went stonefaced again. Still she didn't get a reaction out of me. She repeated the smirk again. We sat in silence for ten minutes. She then gave me this bewildered look. This look of astonishment was exactly the same as a small child who was used to getting her way and suddenly not getting the expected response. I said, "I said to myself earlier today that you would, without warning, go silent at dinner." She retorted, "Well, if you knew that why did you bother to drive up?" I very calmly and confidently said, "You're going to try to make me feel guilty or prevent me from going, but it's not going to work." She sat there for a few more minutes and then resumed eating. For the first time I had won a test of wills with her.
It was now Tuesday night. I am an experienced traveler. In that I need only about twenty minutes to pack for a trip, regardless of it's duration. I soon found out that this night would be different, however. I had never packed as a woman! I began packing at 11:30PM. Start with lingerie. How many items would I need for a four-day trip? What outerwear would I be wearing them with? What color should I take to blend with my outerwear? It took me a half-hour to settle on eight pairs of bras and panties and three slips. Now came the pantyhose. What color skirts and shoes would I be wearing? Pantyhose or thigh highs? After another twenty minutes... I threw one pair of nude, taupe, black and white pantyhose and a pair of taupe thigh highs in the suitcase. I would later find out that I didn't have enough. It finally occurred to me that I could not pack like a guy. The joy of being a women is the variety that is available. In a sense, that is also a curse. A man wouldn't have too many choices to make. Pants, shirt; button or pullover, underwear, socks. Only decision is what colors. It would make more sense to select what items of outerwear I would be needing for what events. I had to try on several of my dresses and look in the mirror. What looked and felt great at home may not be appropriate in public. Did they look classy enough? Would I need to shave more chest hair off? I felt quite frustrated as an hour had passed I had enough outfits for two weeks! Now which ones? What would be appropriate for the Friday night dinner and the Saturday night gala? This was my first trip as Kathleen and I soon saw traveling from a woman's point of view. Now shoes. I needed at least one pair of casual shoes to wear on the plane. Out came the red, cream and black suede pumps. They all had three to four inch heels. Surely I wouldn't be able to walk around San Francisco for three days in four-inch heels. I threw in a pair of black low heel pumps. High heel sandals? Sure, why not. I might need a pair of comfortable walking shoes just in case. I now had six shoes sitting beside my suitcase! I packed my usual toiletries. Now it was time for the cosmetics. No time for experimenting now. This was for keeps. Mirror, hair brushes, liquid base, powder, blush, eye shadow, eye liner, mascara, lash curler, lash comb, makeup brushes, lipsticks, contouring and highlighting items, red nail polish, polish remover, tweezers, razors, shaving cream, cold cream, pads, cotton balls, wedges, cologne. Now which colors could I take and what did I have to leave? This whole process took over a half-hour. It was now 2:30 AM. My flight out of LAX would be leaving at 7:30 so realizing that I would probably need to stay up all night until I at least calmed down. Purses. Hmm. I need at least two. One to carry around most of the time and perhaps a small clutch to take to the bars. Nightgown, slippers. jacket... Now the time to pack everything in neatly. To my chagrin I saw a pile for three suitcases! Now you know why your wife's luggage is far greater than your own. Back to the drawing board. Fortunately, the previous night I had purchased a garment bag to keep my dresses neat. It was now just past three and now I was in a panic. I would have to leave in a little over an hour. I would have to get rid of over half of the large items. Well, here goes. I packed an evening gown, two dresses, two short skirts, one long skirt, two blouses, a turtleneck top, and pullover top. I threw out the low heel and casual shoes, which I would later regret. The only pair of pants I would have would be the pair I was wearing on the plane. At last four AM. My bedroom was ransacked. Items all over the bed on the floors and in to the hallway! No time to deal with that now. If anyone entered they would assume that the house was burglarized. 4:30. I smiled knowing that Kathleen was traveling alone. I had not packed a single item that belonged to her twin brother.
I was on the road. Within five minutes I was driving past Orange County's John Wayne Airport. I would not be stopping here, however. John Wayne had fewer flights and no discount fares available for a Sunday return. To save over a hundred dollars I would have to drive another hour north to LAX. I arrived at LAX ready to begin my journey. I was dressed the way I go to work now. I had on a woman's dress shirt, black dress slacks, black suede shoes and a new black blazer. I hardly ever wear true men's clothes anymore. My daily appearance can be considered androgynous, but the clothes have women's labels and are definitely cut for a woman's body. What is important though is that I know I am dressing as a woman. I have grown my hair and tried styling it as a woman would and I have grown my nails long, well manicured and polished and I wear my favorite cologne, Estee Lauder Beautiful. No one seems to have noticed, at least I think.
I have travelled to San Francisco often. I usually drive, but this was the first time, in a long time, that I had flown in and not had a car at my disposal. I checked into my hotel four blocks from the Holiday Inn, the site of the convention. As I had registered late I was not able to secure reservations at the Holiday Inn until Friday night. Today Kathleen would be traveling around town leisurely. I have seen everything there is to be seen in San Francisco, but I had never visited Mission Dolores before. After I had concluded my visit of the mission I looked at my map and found out that it wasn't too far of walk to Haight Street. I have run in the San Francisco Marathon three times and the course takes us up the challenging hills of Haight Street. Seeing Haight Street didn't seem to be too unusual, particularly for San Francisco. It certainly didn't seem to live up to the Haight-Ashbury reputation that I had heard of so much in the past. I got to the top of the hill where there is a large park. It is here that the in the previous years the marathon course turned left leading into Golden Gate Park. I was now in a residential area. "So this is Haight Street?", I thought. I decided to walk the remaining several blocks just to say that I stood at the corner of Haight and Ashbury streets. It wasn't until I reached Ashbury Street that I received the shock of my life. This was exactly the scene that people have described. Tie dyed T-shirts from the sixties were still alive. Others wore painted and spiked hair cuts, a lot of leather and body piercings. I grew up on the West side of Los Angeles and used to visit the boardwalk at Venice Beach. This scene easily outdid Venice Beach for non-conformity. My clothes were certainly out of place here and I really stood out from the crowd.
After browsing around many of the interesting shops for a couple of hours I decided that it was time to try to get back to the hotel. I walked past some clothing stores until I ran across a Buffalo Exchange store. It was a large clothing store that sold recycled clothing, not quite a thrift shop. I took a look around. With the thousands of dollars I have spent on my feminine wardrobe I have never bought any used items. I went through the racks and found several interesting items at very good prices. I was particularly looking for a long black evening dress for the Saturday night gala. I found several items that looked interesting, but I did not trust that they would all fit. Since I was not going to stay in San Francisco very long I would not be able to return the items as I would at home. I watched many of the customers going into the fitting rooms to try on clothes. The procedure was that you had to show the attendant how many items you were taking inside and he would hand you a piece of plastic with the number of items written on it. Suddenly an idea came across, "This is San Francisco and Haight-Ashbury. I can get away with trying on my purchases." I walked up to the attendant with six items and told him that I wanted to try them on. He didn't blink an eye. I happily walked to the fitting room and drew the curtain. I was now trying on dresses. I was now doing something that I had only imagined in my wildest dreams, but here I was and it felt so natural. Would I be able to do this someday in L.A.? I normally wear a size 12 or medium. To my dismay nothing fit. Everything was too small. I got dressed and walked out. I encountered several women entering or exiting the changing area. We exchanged smiles. There were no looks of surprise. This got me motivated to keep looking. I found a few more good-looking items. This time the attendant was a young woman, but again it wasn't a problem. To my pleasure they all fit and looked great and sexy in the mirror. I ended up spending over a hundred dollars, but I wouldn't have been able to do as well at the sales racks of my regular stores. I happily walked along Haight Street toward downtown. I didn't encounter a single taxi and I ended up walking several miles. I was wearing my size ten women's low heel dress shoes, which were about a half size too small and too narrow. The heels were also hard. I can barely tolerate wearing them all day at work. I could now feel pain on the toes and sides of my feet and could feel blisters beginning to develop. I finally made it to the hotel and checked into my room. The fact that I had not slept the previous night caught up with me and I passed out for several hours. I awoke around nine o'clock and walked the streets trying to find a place that served late meals.
It was Thursday morning and I decided that I would spend the early afternoon touring the prison on Alcatraz Island. I would also be stopping in at the Holiday Inn, so I decided to try putting on a little makeup without blush, lipstick and eyeshadow. I could complete my makeup after the tour ended. I found that just a little makeup could do wonders. I thought that now people might mistake me as a woman. I called the boat company that was running the tours and found out that they were sold out for the day. Disappointed I stopped by the room with the vendor exhibits. The first person I met was Carly at the Hidden Woman booth. Carly was working for Leona, the darling owner of the business. She recognized me from last year. I walked around and made a point to try to chat with people. I spoke with famous makeup artist Jim Bridges. I related how I had heard him and his employee Gina Lance being skewered on a L.A. talk show by a very Transgenderphobic host. I told him that I fired off an angry e-mail message to him, identifying myself as a crossdresser and defending Jim and Gina. I even offered to answer back to him if he had any more questions about us. I was surprised that I didn't get a response from either he or his producer. I then spoke to Espy, the owner of ClassiCurves. A few years back I bought a custom fitted Veronica hip girdle. Though it was expensive and a bit of a pain to pull on and off it certainly gave me the pelvic girdle and the figure that I wanted.
I looked across the room and there was a tall girl with a friendly face waving at me. It was Dana. I speak to Dana through the TGF chat room everyday during our lunch hour at work. Dana was the one who convinced me to at least stop at the convention last year. I met her in person last year when I was a bearded male dressed in drab clothes. She had left the convention before I made my debut last year. Dana is so friendly and easy going. She greeted me and spoke to me as if we were everyday friends. I was surprised that she recognized me as my appearance had changed drastically from just a year ago.
Friday morning I got up and packed for the move down to the Holiday Inn. It only took me a few minutes to pack and I surely thought that I was on my way. It was time for me to shave and put on my makeup. It ended up taking me a whole hour! The whole process was time consuming. I first had to give myself a double shave. Everything looked just fine. My face was very smooth, but I now had small spots of blood all over my upper lip, which I would have to wait to heal. I put on a little moisturizer. I got out a wedge and started putting on my base. Now it was time to start doing some contouring and highlighting. I had never tried this before. I had only read about it a few days earlier and had not had a chance to practice doing it, but here I was ready to step out into the street. Next came the eyeshadow. Now for the mascara. I blinked and got it smudged all over my lower lids. Darn! I wiped my lashes clean and started over. Eyeliner pencil. Blusher. Powder. Lipstick. That went on perfectly. I looked at myself in the mirror. I wasn't sure what others would think of me, but I thought that I would be presentable. Dressed in my androgynous outfit: a red-ribbed turtleneck top, black pants, shoes and black blazer. The workshops were to begin at 9:00 a.m. and it was now approaching 10 o'clock and I had not left yet. I have always been a very bad estimator of time, but I should have known that I would have needed even more time to get prepared in femme mode. My suitcase and bags were very heavy as I walked the four blocks to the Holiday Inn. If anyone thought that I might have been a girl, they were probably wondering how or why she was lugging a heavy suitcase and bags down the street. I finally got to the Holiday Inn. I walked up to the front desk to check in. The clerk smiled and greeted me with, "Yes, Sir. Can I help you?" Thanks a lot! I guess I wasn't fooling anyone. The sooner I got down to Leona the better off I would be. I finally made it down to the convention floor where the workshops were in progress. At one workshop a tall woman named Rachel Miller spoke. She looked familiar and then it hit me. That's Dear Rachel. She gave an interesting talk. Rachel was married and very secure in her job, but I could not get over how much confidence she exuded. She was also promoting her book "The Bliss of Becoming One!" I had purchased the book and enjoyed it very much. I suddenly woke up, "Good morning Kathleen!" It's that Rachel Miller, the author. It also finally dawned on me that she happens to be TGF's Dear Rachel. I haven't been thinking too clearly for the past several months.
It was time for lunch. We all selected seats and the event started with a keynote speech by Alison Laing of IFGE. Again I though, "Gee, she looks familiar. I think I have seen her picture before." Hello there???? The reason why I was attending this convention was that I needed to meet people like myself. This was only my second experience meeting other transgendered women face to face. I felt a little troubled that although some of the girls looked quite feminine and quite convincing they spoke with loud, confident male voices. I was trying to speak with a women's voice which probably came out as a weak male. There was another conflict that I had with myself the entire weekend. Many of the women at the conference, with their facial features and physical size would never pass. I know that I was on the border. What helps me tremendously is my size. I am of very average height and have a very slender build. I should be thankful, but the problem is that I have not had to confront society's reaction. Since I could potentially pass, it was very important to me to try as hard as I can, whereas many of the women knew they wouldn't pass and never gave it much consideration.
After lunch I was finally able to check into my room. I ran upstairs put on a short black velvet skirt and black high heels and got my purse. I went back and had a very joyful afternoon meeting very nice people.
The afternoon activities ended and it was time for me to head up to my room to freshen up a little before the evening dinner. I tried to walk as confidently and ladylike as I could across the hotel lobby to the elevators. The elevator lobby was empty except for two young women. We got into the car and as the elevator began to ascend one of the women turned to me and asked, "So. What do y'all do at these conventions?" My heart sank. I was alone and Leona had touched me up, but I got read anyway.
I had a very delightful time at the dinner. What I found interesting was how everyone was pleasant and seemed to share a kinship with one another. I saw the irony of the fact that here was a table full of genetic males who would have probably behaved drastically different if we weren't dressed or knew who we were. It shouldn't be that way, but men behave differently toward other men. Here was an atmosphere that at least allowed me to let down my defenses and relax, much like the way I feel when I am socializing with my GG friends.
After the dinner concluded one of the girls of ETVC announced that she had chartered a bus to go bar hopping. I leapt at the idea. Here I was in my favorite city, romantic San Francisco. I love the nightlife, but I was now going to be able to have a fantasy fulfilled as I was going to enjoy it as a lady. The bus first took us to Loon's restaurant in Ghirardelli Square. This was the same Ghirardelli Square that I always stop at when I visit the city. There were about forty of us girls. I wouldn't have to worry about getting read, because it was obvious to the world who we were. It was comforting nevertheless to know that I was safe in a crowd. We walked into the foyer of the restaurant. The restaurant was very noisy and busy as our entourage entered the lounge. Heads turned.
Our next stop was the top of the Fairmont Hotel. In all of my visits to San Francisco I had never visited the Fairmont. We walked into the luxurious hotel lobby area. This was a totally different crowd from the restaurant we had just left and it clearly disturbed some people. We rode the elevator to the top of the Fairmont where we got a spectacular view of the City and the bay. People were dining very late. We received many wary stares throughout our stay.
Our next stop was to a bar in the Tenderloin district, which was the antithesis of the Fairmont. We entered a smoky bar. What I heard was that this was a transvestite pick-up place. I wasn't exactly sure what that meant except that there were many straight dressed men there quietly watching the crowd. It was very crowded and noisy, so we didn't spend too much time there as we had one more stop to make.
The last stop of our night was "The " in the Castro district of town. Up until now I had never been inside of a gay bar. Although this was an open club it was over 90% gay. Men dancing with each other, in embrace. It was an interesting place to observe and ironically I felt safer being dressed as a woman. I had a couple of men grab my hands and introduced themselves. Now the alcohol was having an effect on my kidneys. I really had to go. I looked for the ladies' room, but there wasn't one. What was left was a single restroom with men and women lined up outside. It was an interesting experience to remove my pads in a filthy stall and straddle the toilet in such a way that I didn't sit on the toilet seat. This was precisely the same thing I have always heard women say. The lights suddenly went on at a quarter till 2 and we were all thrown out. I was sorry to see the night end. I could have stayed out all night.
Saturday morning suddenly hit me. I had an appointment with Leona to get a makeover. I didn't have to put on makeup, but getting dressed and shaving took a lot more time than I had expected. I should have learned by now why it took women so long to get ready. I rushed down to the convention floor and Leona was waiting for me. Being the artist that she is, she very quickly and efficiently did her magic on my face, explaining what she was doing as she went. I had planned to use my natural hair the entire weekend, but she decided that a wig would improve my appearance. Time for the moment of truth. She kept smiling at me and cooing, "Oh, you look so beautiful." She gave me the mirror and I took a glance. I am very hard on myself, but even I was pleased at what I saw. The woman in the mirror didn't look anything like me. Looking on the negative side, I thought, "I can't ever do that!" So I asked Leona several questions. I walked through the convention hall and to the rooms holding the workshops. I ran across several people who recognized me. They all stopped and said, "Wow!"
I walked into a room where plastic surgeon Dr. Ousterhout, was conducting a workshop on plastic surgery. It was nearly over, but he was showing slides of before and after. He then announced that he was offering free consultations all day and if we wanted to speak to him, we could reserve a time. I immediately jumped on it. I knew that I could not afford any surgery in the near term, but I wanted him to tell me what he thought was wrong with me.
That afternoon, Alison Laing was holding a "heart to heart" workshop. We sat around in a circle and had a session. Unfortunately, I had to excuse myself as my appointed time with Dr. Ousterhout had arrived. I excused myself and slipped next door. Of course, I knew that I had to take what he said with a grain of salt as he was there to sell a service. He examined my face, smiled and said, "Hmmm. You definitely have a masculine face." My stomach dropped. He then said, "You have good characteristics, however, that could make you a beautiful woman." He proceeded to tell me what he could do from top to bottom which unfortunately sounded like a completely new face. He then referred me to his assistant to get a price estimate. The five procedures would cost about $23K. That was about what I expected, but that was only my face and neck. How about the rest of me? That didn't even include electrolysis. I walked out happy that there was at least some hope. For $30K I might be able to look like the person I wanted to appear as. Unfortunately, in the short period of time I was out, Alison's session had concluded. I saw Dana standing outside of the room. I mentioned to her that my contribution to the group would have been the reason why I had left.
I went back and purchased some jewelry. Romantasy had a booth. The owner of the store who was modeling one of her corsets mesmerized me. She had an hourglass figure and must have had a twelve-inch waist. I tried on a beautiful pink satin corset and asked her to lace it up real tight. I was wearing hips. So I looked in the mirror and I got excited. Wow! 38-26-39. I walked around where I got nothing, but stares. Were they admiring, jealous or getting turned on? I really couldn't afford a custom fitted corset, but when did a lack of money ever stop me? I knew that anything other than a corset fitted by an expert would be a waste of money. Sending self-measurements in the mail was risky. Ann, the owner carefully took my measurements and I ordered a burgundy and pink reversible satin corset with pink lace.
The big gala banquet. Entertainment was the Andrew Sisters. TG musicians.
We went bar hopping again except this time we were going to spend the entire evening at a lesbian bar called the "'G' Spot". This was again a new experience for me as I have never been to a lesbian bar. It was not quite what I had expected. I had expected to see ordinary women of all different shapes and sizes. All butch. Short hair, male clothes. I immediately thought that this must be the female equivalent of drag queens. Women with nice physical shapes and delicate feminine features doing their best to look masculine. I wondered why. Here I was trying to lose my masculine look on a daily basis.
The next morning I wanted to dress up one last time. Again it took almost two hours to get presentable. I was supposed to meet Leona so she could do my eyebrows. It almost ten o'clock and I realized that immediately after I had brunch I would have to come back to my room to change.
I rushed down to the vendor area. When I arrived I found the room was completely devoid and empty. The people were gone, all of the booths had been cleared out and all that remained was trash. An empty feeling came to my stomach. I then stepped next door into the ballroom for brunch. This was the same ballroom where we had previously dined. The tables were all set up, but there were few people there. Most were seated dressed in male mode. Some I could recognize and others not. It looked like the end of a theater production run. People were now without their makeup, wigs and "costumes". Some were dressed in a more androgynous fashion, but it was a reminder of what I would be returning to. The atmosphere at our table was subdued. Everyone commented on how tough it was going to be going back to being a male and work. I am a bit of a sentimentalist anyway so I hate seeing any event ending or saying goodbye to anyone. The scene reminded me of the end of the old television program Fantasy Island. The guests were ready to be shuttled home. They had experienced their fantasies for a few days and it was now time to return home. Like the TV program some of the girls were happy and energetic having spent the last few days as their feminine self, experiencing exciting events and making new friends. The majority, however, were very sad about seeing it all end. I suppose that I should have looked on the positive side. It would only be one year until the next California Dreamin' and the time would fly by very quickly. I made it back upstairs removed my blouse and skirt and finished packing. I left my makeup and everything else on.
I took a taxicab to Fisherman's Wharf where I had reservations to take a tour of Alcatraz prison. I would have over an hour to kill so I decided to browse around in the stores. In every store that I entered I was greeted with, "How are you "Sir"? Can I help you?" I was wearing makeup and women's sunglasses and they were able to see right through. This just served as a reminder of what I was, a women mind trapped in a man's body. I would never be able to reach the point where I would be able to pass unnoticeably.
The excursion to Alcatraz Island was very interesting. It was a self-guiding tour. I received stares from people though I am not sure whether it was because they couldn't figure out what gender I belonged to or if they were wondering why that man was wearing what appeared to be makeup.
I had made an appointment with an airport shuttle service to pick me up at my hotel. There was a little more than one hour left. I decided that I wanted to continue my little fantasy by riding the cable car back to the hotel. The line was long and I heard that the wait would take approximately one hour. I insisted on holding onto this experience just a little while longer.
It was a sad flight home to Los Angeles. The entire time I reflected on all of the interesting people that I met, wondering what their lives would be like tomorrow morning. I began to reflect on my experience and started to cheer up a little. I had now been out in public for the second time ever, but most importantly I was able to live my life as Kathleen. I had fulfilled my fantasy. I began to look ahead to more adventures. I would begin attending support group meetings, going out to the clubs and renewing friendships with people whom I had not seen in over a year.
|