Dude looks like a Lady

I must apologize for going so long between postings. It's just that the combination of being incredibly busy and the lack of anything blog-worthy coming my way has left me with a bit of writer's block. I did try a few weeks back to explain why I will never use a ladder to hang Christmas lights. I spent about 3 hours writing and editing a lengthy blog entry worthy of the Pulitzer prize (I'm a legend in my own mind, at least). However, when I tried to post a picture, I neglected to do the "just in case" highlight and copy...... when the computer froze and I lost everything I had just written. Naturally, it put me off blogging for a while.

However, recently I did something I'm not proud of. It was a genuine accident, a bone-headed move, and I feel incredibly guilty. So, if there is a Priest reading my blog (God help you if you are), Bless me Father, for I have sinned...... it's been..... years and years since my last confession:

Earlier in the month of October, I'm flying with one of my very favorite captains. We are scheduled to fly together throughout the month, flying the same trips week after week. This particular series of trips ends with a quick-turn from Cleveland, OH to New Orleans, LA. We stay in New Orleans just long enough to kick everyone off the plane, clean it, check our emails and Facebooks via our favorite portable electronic devices, load it up again and blast off towards Cleveland for the Go-Home leg.  The first time we do this trip, the Captain says to me, "Hmm... I wonder if the transvestite in ops is working today."

This question is a welcome distraction from my normal in-flight activity of staring out of the right cockpit window wondering if I'll ever get the chance to stare out of the left cockpit window. I turn to him and say, "Transvestite?"

He smiles and says, "Yeah. There's a transvestite who works in Ops. He was there last week; he might be working today."

I am immediately giddy. I loosen my seat belt straps, fold my legs together in the "Indian style" position and grin like a little girl at the thought of this news. I think, This is New Orleans! Of course there is a transvestite in ops! I'll bet she does this airline ops thing during the day and really shines on with her bad self on stage at night!!  I envision someone elegant, gorgeous, slender, fit, sexy, and charismatic - probably Latin, or maybe with the skin tone the beautiful golden caramel from having interracial parents. Someone who knows their way around a stripper's pole but possesses more talents than just being able to coax lonely drunk businessmen to "make it rain." Someone who could be charming and quiet one minute, while flirtatiously batting her eyelashes, yet still possess the skills to kick the living crap out of someone who really deserves it the next. A real firecracker!! I smile wider than I have the whole week, and beg the captain as I'm practically bouncing up and down in my seat and clapping my hands rapidly with anticipation, "oh please!!! May I please, please, please, please go into ops to get the paperwork when we get to New Orleans?!?!?"

I had to meet the man who had the balls to wear a dress to the airport!

We arrive and I skip gaily to Operations. To my indescribable disappointment I'm greeted by the ugliest woman I have ever seen..... with 5 o'clock shadow (it was noon)....aaaaaand a deep baritone voice without a touch of femininity. It was as if you took Jimmy Hoffa (the current President of the International Brotherhood of Teamsters.... not the former one who was probably cut into pieces and buried under that athletic complex), and put him in a long brunette wig, dark red lipstick, plastic earrings, a blouse, a skirt, high heels, and the cheapest, gaudiest Lee press-on nails you can find.

I was staring eye-to-eye with this week's "Feature Creature" from peopleofwalmart.com.

I panicked. I didn't know what to do. I immediately looked down at the paperwork for the New Orleans - Cleveland flight, and said, "Is this it? Oh good, looks like it's gonna rain! See ya later!" I practically sprinted out of Ops.

Fast forward to 2 weeks later. Captain and I end our work week with the same turn, and I attempt to explain to our flight attendant about the Ops Transvestite and how disappointed I was. I was expecting RuPaul. Or better! Someone who belonged in a Lady Gaga video. I got something much worse. He didn't even TRY. He made Gene Hackman in The Birdacage look like Miss America. Even John Cleese did a better job! I was almost angry at him. Flight Attendant tried to come up with an excuse to go with me to Ops to get the paperwork, but it turned out not to be necessary.

After we parked the airplane, we sat there with the door closed while we waited for someone to come bring the jetbridge to the plane so that we could let the people off. It turns out that we were parked just outside of the door to Operations. And..... out of this door like an angry boxer comes the star of the show. I tap the Flight Attendant's arm and say, "Hey!!! There she is!!" She was dressed in the exact same outfit, with the same features (including boobs!), the nails and the 5 o'clock shadow, and mini-skirt! She has the build of a linebacker, and walks in exactly the same bullish manner. Then she sits down and enjoys her smoke.... with her legs spread as wide as they'll physically go, exposing her .... um.... stockings and drawers. Captain averts his eyes, mutters a brief "Oh God," and wishes to be stricken blind. Flight Attendant and I are craning our necks and squinting, trying desperately to see the prize.

"Do you think he tucks his junk between his legs or wears a cup?" I say. "I mean, how else would he have the courage to sit like that?" Captain has a look on his face like he desperately wishes he was somewhere else. Flight Attendant and I are practically peeing ourselves with glee as the Transvestite finishes her cigarette and clomps back inside.

Jetbridge driver arrives, and actually brings us the paperwork, so at least no one has to go get it this time. Thank God. When all the people are off, Capt. gets up to stretch his legs, I do the walkaround, and Flight Attendant cleans the cabin. When I return, I seem to think it would be a real good idea to pull up my playlist on my favorite portable electronic device and cue up Aerosmith's "Dude looks like a Lady." Then I decide it would be a real hoot if I played it over the PA system in the airplane. You know, because music makes everyone's job more enjoyable. No one was on the plane but Flight Attendant and I, so I thought, What could go wrong? I cue up the song and key the mic, giggle a little bit and do a little head bang......when after about 30 seconds into the song...... to my sheer utter horror...... I notice I am not transmitting over the PA system...... I'm transmitting on the OPS FREQUENCY!!!! I look up, sure enough, he/she is inside. Listening.

I shriek as if the microphone I'm holding has just morphed into an Anaconda and leap out of the cockpit as if it's on fire. I run to the galley and crouch real low while I wait for the Transvestite to storm up the jetbridge stairs and kick my ass. "What's wrong?" The Flight Attendant asks. I tell her what I did and she laughs hysterically. For a long time. Then Captain comes in, and he laughs while trying to reassure me between fits of laughter that maybe Transvestite was outside smoking again (I know he wasn't). I can't hide in the galley forever, so when it came time to jump back into my seat and start on the paperwork, I adjusted the seat very low; so low that my head would not be visible to anyone outside. Captain said after a few moments, "Ah, there he is....... he's looking at the plane...... he looks pissed!"

What was I supposed to do? Apologize? Tell him I didn't mean it? Explain that it was an accident? Not meant for his/her ears? Say something like, "Oh, it's okay, I dress like the opposite sex when I'm at work, too"? Alas, I did nothing. I really did feel horrible and beat myself up about it on the flight back to Cleveland. I honestly was not being mean spirited. If that's the kind of outfit the man feels comfortable wearing to work (be honest ladies..... we all know that shit is NOT comfortable.... but whatever), if he wants to let the banana and coconuts dangle in the breeze while he smokes cigarettes, if he wants to be frugal and wear the ugliest press-on nails, earrings, and bold dark red lipstick.....

He's probably one real tough sonofabitch!!!  I simultaneously applaud his courage and am shamed by my lack of it.

And this is why I can never go back to New Orleans again!