Girls' Night Out
Mingling in with the general public is a desire of many crossdressers, and I am no exception. Going out in public with another transgendered individual is a lot more enjoyable than being alone, but increases one's chances of being spotted. Predictably, a group of four or more is bound to be spotted, but the trade off is that getting together is really gratifying. So if you don't mind being noticed, what do you do? Get a group together and go to dinner, bars, and nightclubs--or anywhere else you like--for a Girls' Night Out.
I look forward to each GNO, and this, my fourth, was no exception. I was eager to get started, so I was first to arrive at Kathleen's hotel. She had warned me that the side doors probably were locked, so go in through the lobby, but the side door was much closer to her room and my arms were full of evening clothes and bags, so I thought, Why not? As I headed toward it, I suddenly noticed a security guard inside, walking toward the door. Would he ask what I was doing, or tell me to go around to the front? I thought of how I was dressed, a long floral skirt with coordinating top for shopping. I was glad I didn't have on my eveningwear; he might think I was soliciting. Still, you never know what somebody's thinking or how they'll react. When he reached for the door, my heart skipped a beat.
"Here, let me hold the door for you," he said. I breathed a sigh of relief and quickly passed by him, responding with a smile and a pleasant, "Thank you." I didn't notice any undue concern from him, but just to make sure as I entered Kathleen's room, I glanced over my shoulder to see if the guard had followed me. He hadn't, of course.
Kathleen was almost ready, so we sat and chatted while she applied her nails. Every so often, one would pop off and fly across the room and she'd have to go after it. When Paula and Kathy arrived, we decided to stay around and chat instead of going shopping, so I changed for dinner.
It had been a month since our last Girls' Night Out, and some of the group were new, so we caught up on our transgendered activities. Emily arrived and needed some alone time to get ready, so we arranged to meet later and went across the street to Bristol Bar and Grill for cocktails.
The bar was rather quiet for 6 p.m. on a Saturday evening, I thought. We sat at a table near the door, a perfect spot for people watching. Kim, a very cheerful waitress, came over and took our order. She was very attentive, offering to put our name on the reservations list in case we decided to have dinner there, pending approval of Stephanie and Emily. Several customers came in while we were talking; no one stared, but a few women did gaze over their shoulders at us as they were walking into the dining area.
The hostess seated us in a nice intimate nook, complete with doors in case we wanted complete privacy--or maybe in case we became too boisterous, who knows? I wondered if we had been placed there for their benefit or ours, but in any event, we liked the nook. The service and food were wonderful. When I was lining up a group photo, the waiter kindly offered to take it for me so we all could be included.
Next stop: Joe Hanon's. It was busier than normal, mostly male (it's usually a pretty even mix), and they all noticed us. A waitress greeted us, and we found a table near the dance floor. A lady at the next table was very friendly, but she'd had one too many, so you decide how to take that. I understand from a later conversation that some of the men were not very receptive toward us, but one man came up to me and said, "Hi, I'm from Louisiana, would you dance with me?" I thought than an interesting introduction, and the music was a fast beat, so I said, "Sure." Afterward, he walked me back and thanked me for the dance, and I wondered if he knew? Later, at another bar, I was asked again. After our second dance, this guy said something that led me to believe he hadn't a clue. I leaned forward, toward his ear so he could hear me over the music, and said, "You do know I am a man?" Stephanie, who'd been watching us, said the poor guy turned white. He said, "I'm outta here!" and practically vanished from the dance floor. I almost felt abandoned. Well, not really. I just turned and kept on dancing.
Near midnight, Kathleen, who hadn't slept in two days because she had worked back-to-back shifts, was nearly cross-eyed, but we all wanted to get in one more place before we called it a night. A man walked out with us and was very curious about us, so we all talked for some time in the parking lot. I normally do not linger in a parking lot, because I don't want to become a target.
Dorsett Inn was practically across the street. None of had been there, but it was recommended by one of the managers whom I had met a few months earlier. The people there were very casual with regards to our presence. The band and their music were okay, and we stayed till almost closing.
At that point, everyone decided to call it an evening, except Stephanie and me. We made one last stop at Have a Nice Day Cafe. I have been there several times and have always received a warm welcome. While I was talking to the doorman, a young man stepped up and said, "Let them in on my pass." Wow, that was nice. I thanked him, and we went in. We did get several looks--a few appeared slightly disapproving--but generally, everyone was very friendly.
The only downside to the evening happened after I left the bar and was waiting to cross the street to my car. Three twenty-somethings at the stoplight tossed out blatant sexual remarks, slurs if you will, carrying on for at least thirty seconds. I wasn't too concerned, because right around the corner of the building by the entrance were three policeman. After the hecklers found their remarks didn't faze me, they drove on. Too bad some boys will never grow up.
Overall, the evening was a very enjoyable get together. We were able to get out in the general public, converse, and express our inner selves.
By the way, we didn't really have a limo, but I couldn't resist including the photo from the night before. However, that's another story.
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