7:41 a.m. - Wednesday, Mar. 12, 2003
Ms Leslie's Almost violent Night at UNO

I rode to New Orleans with Noelle and Karen. Noelle drove while I rode shotgun and Karen fretted about the driving from the back seat.

Noelle is a minor celebrity around here. By day she crunches numbers for small businesses, but by night she�s a sought-after drag performer. She�s performed singing, dancing and occasionally wrestling, at clubs from Biloxi to Baton Rouge for a number of years now� Except during tax season. I�d met her once, at the Christmas party and AIDS benefit at the gay bar in Biloxi, but we only spoke for a moment before she had to go onstage. The ride to New Orleans was my first chance to spend any time with her at all.

The apartment complex I call home has a high turnover rate. Some of my neighbors who have lived here a year or more know me as a transsexual woman. Others though; the younger ones, who are mostly Navy SeaBee families, see me doing my laundry, or paying my rent, etc., and only see me as a woman. It�s those younger neighbors who got a delightful surprise when Noelle came to my door to pick me up for the ride to New Orleans.

If you�ve never walked alongside a six-foot woman with a gorgeous blue and silver sequined dancing gown, with a big hair red wig, eyelashes that looked like painted butterfly wings, glossy nails that were made her fingers half-again as long and clear Lucite shoes with heels that tapered into a dangerous six-inch spike, then you�ll never fully understand what total, unabashed attention from bystanders looks like. Here�s a hint: I�ve never seen anyone walk backwards to stare until I walked past three young wives with Noelle to get to her car. She doesn�t seem to mind a bit. In fact, I suspect she glories in the attention. She�s larger than life and she knows it.

After a pleasant ride of an hour and a half or so, we arrived in New Orleans a little early, so we decided to stop at the Tiffin Inn to have coffee before continuing to the UNO class. Again with the astonished and amused staring and smiles, especially from the middle-aged men as we walked into the Tiffin. I knew from the first that this was something I might as well get used to.

The Tiffin is an aging all night coffee shop. In it�s day, I think it must have been a nice place. One of those places that served a great breakfast, but you�d almost never go there for lunch. These days though, the Inn has worn-out look. The seventies d�cor is dusty, the carpets have cowpaths, and the corners in the restroom has had it�s corners missed by the janitors� mops too many times. Even the service, though friendly, is very casual. The waitresses seem all to be just waiting out the last few weeks before they can finally retire. And they�re so tired.

Coffee for Noelle and Karen, I found, meant a huge plate of the daily special; red beans and rice with a couple of links of sausage laying alongside. I�ll be honest; A Yankee like me has got to live in the south for at least four years before she can appreciate the nuances of red beans and rice. Southerners are born with the appreciation. Coffee for me meant a house salad with a dab of dressing�� and a cup of coffee.

Karen is a once-a-month regular at the Tiffin, so the waitresses remember her and always give her the same booth. They seem not to mind it that this middle aged �lady� in a denim jumper and ribboned black hat flirts with them shamelessly. I didn�t mind either, seeing as how I would never ever go to the Tiffin Inn, or ever see any of these people aside from a future indulgence for Karen�s sake.

If we had confined ourselves to actual coffee, we might have gotten to the UNO campus in time to be early. As it turned out, we weren�t even in time to be on time, but we were just in the nick of time to be late. By the time we found a rare parking spot and locked up, we were met by the instructor, the ever-gentle Dr Anderson. He had come down to the parking lot to see if he could find enough transgendered people wandering around to make a panel for his waiting class. I was embarrassed. He was relieved to see us.

Upstairs, we found Dee-Dee, the new president of GGA, Lee, a long-time crossdresser and one of the grand dames of the local scene. Also, an incredibly buffed-out young man in camo pants and a tank top, accompanied by his collared female slave. He was introduced as �Jake� and his slave as Jake�s Bunny. Both were clearly into the BDSM scene. I wondered as Jake took my hand if tonight was to be as combined session. I had no idea that Jake, with his magnificent shoulders and arms, with his many tattoos, his butch haircut and neatly trimmed goatee was a female to male transsexual. I love these guys. They fool me every time. I didn�t realize Jake was transsexual until he introduced himself to the class as such.

As it turned out, He was, in a previous life, a champion runner and a popular fashion model. There was a short video that showed him prior to his transition. He was just as beautiful as a woman as he was as a man. Some people get all the luck. Sadly, I suspect he might have needed a slight adjustment in his testosterone dosage. Within the first thirty minutes or so, Jake took offense when one of the UNO students expressed an opinion that was not shared by the rest of the class. HE was talking to me when he remarked that he felt it was proper that medical insurance doesn�t cover the costs associated with SRS surgery; That, just as he has to save for a new car, we should save for a new vagina.

Well, Jake just came undone. I�ve never been in the position of having my honor defended by a guy before. It was scary but gosh�. It was flattering too. Eventually, Jake stood and crossed the room, offering to take the �offending� student outside and kick his ass for him. It turned into an ugly incident that ended with the student�s extreme embarrassment and Jake�s departure from the class. It was a real black moment in the evening and I know, just as sure as I know I�m a woman, it came from nothing but the side effects of testosterone. Fascinating.

The rest of the session went just like the previous ones. The class was curious, respectful and even admiring. I wish I could do this every day of my life. Unfortunately, when he finally ejected me from his classroom so they could proceed with the last part of the evening�s class, Dr Anderson told me he is going on sabattical, so there won�t be a panel in September. Phooey.

Well, after all the attention and love we got at UNO, nothing would do but a return to the Tiffin for �dinner�. We were joined by Lee, a longtime friend of Noelle and another tall flashy dresser. By now I thought I was getting used to being just to the right of the center of attention, but I was wrong. Coming in with TWO drag queens generated exactly twice the attention. I would never have thought it possible. The upside, however, is that for all the attention, it seemed to be good natured. No one made any unkind remarks or offered to kill anyone. The folks there were amused, entertained, and almost seemed grateful to see something of a show in their ordinary lives. I can just barely see where all the attention hold some attraction for these girls.

Well, �dinner� had about as much meaning as �coffee�. This time, Karen had a plate of fried oysters, Lee had the beans, Noelle had a glass of water and some crackers, and I had one of the worst waffles I�ve ever eaten and a side of sausage that I couldn�t eat at all. And coffee. The entire time we were there, I noticed along the edges of my awareness, that the whole place was very quiet, except for our table. I had the sense that our conversation, which included the terms �transsexual�, �bondage�, �slave�, �crossdresser�, and many more, may have been the cause for all this silence and ear-straining. And I don�t think the other girls made it any worse as they discussed which of the female students in class were the cutest, and which ones they would like to ask out. Hello????

Having hugged Lee goodbye, we hit the road back to Gulfport by eleven. We three were tired. I think it does take a lot of energy to talk to a group and open up your feelings so completely, even though I was seated the whole time. On the way home, Karen snoozed while Noelle and I visited some more. I tried to ask questions designed to keep her talking because her gigantic false eyelashes look d to be getting very heavy. We talked about subjects that are either too mundane to mention here, or too spicy. It ran from makeup to sex. Some things you don�t want to know and other things you don�t need to know.

So, that was my night in New Orleans. I feel I made some new friends there. I hope some of them will see my diary and sign my guestbook. And I had a great time hanging with Noelle. She was fun to be with but she also gave me a new appreciation for whatever level of anonymity I enjoy in my everyday life. Of course, a lot of that anonymity just went down the tubes as far as my neighbors are concerned. (Sigh) Oh well� in another six months, they�ll have moved and I�ll get new ones.

�

�

previous - next