‘Twas the night before Halloween, and all through Boystown, not a creature was stirring, not even a . . . well clown would work I guess, but it is so very not true! You will recall that Halloween fell on Sunday this year. At this point, I shall resist the urge to go off on one of my infamous digressions about how Halloween should always be on Friday or Saturday, and stick to the story at hand. With the annual Halloween Extravaganza being the weekend before Halloween, and Halloween itself being on Sunday (as previously mentioned), I felt strongly that some sort of adventure was called for on the Saturday between these events, that being October 30. Are you still with me? Feel free to go back and reread if necessary, we will wait. . .
OK then, let us resume with another digression. For some months my heel time had consisted of fairly conservative events, venues and outfits. I was definitely feeling the desire to slip into something short and sexy, and to be out and about, perhaps to be admired, maybe even have my fanny patted! So, this would not be a trip to the library or the local family restaurant.
With an adventure to be planned I naturally contacted my sister adventurer and all-around party girl, Sarah. After much consideration, we concluded that Boystown would be our destination and that sexy and sassy would define our outfits for the evening. It might have been Halloween Eve, but there were to be no costumes for us. We also decided that a small group would make the evening just right. Positive responses to our inquiries added Rebecca, Jackie Miller, and Audry to our little adventure. We intended to start with dinner, then hit some of the clubs for drinks, laughter and whatever.
As our evening out approached, I naturally pondered what I would wear (duh!). I quickly decided that it would just have to be my little red sleeveless dress. With just a slight nod toward the reality of colder weather, I planned to add my black jacket to the mix. Thinking that I might wear high heel sandals or peep toes, I painted my toenails for the occasion. But again, the weather steered me toward closed toes. I briefly considered wearing boots, either calf length shiny black or thigh high silver. In the end I decided I did not want to cover my legs that much. Hmmm, have I mentioned that I like to show a lot of leg?
Knowing that parking in Boystown can be difficult and/or expensive, we decided to just take one car in. I volunteered to be the designated driver, so about 7:00 that night I was off to pick up my companions. First up was Rebecca. Being the young and adorable member of our little troupe, Rebecca was running behind schedule when I arrived at her hotel. She ended up applying her nails in the car and lost one during the process. It’s OK though, Sue found it the next day (yikes!). We picked up Jackie at Janna’s Place where I think she was attending a woodworking class (or was it fishing?). Finally we connected with Sarah and Audry at Sally’s Pancake House, and we were all off to Boystown.I had made a short list of possible locations for dinner. The first was on Halsted and within easy walking distance from the valet parking at Sidetrack. However, when viewed from the street, the place looked more like a brightly lit diner than the cool bistro we thought appropriate for our evening. We drove on to my next choice which was Wilde (as in Oscar) which is a block over on Broadway. From the street it looked good, so we set about the task of finding parking. I managed to pass by the entrance to a small lot just a block from the restaurant. I tried to circle the block, but one-way streets and construction made that a nightmare. After much driving and turning and not finding of anyplace to park, we finally got back to the lot and pulled in. There was no attendant in evidence, and we quickly found that there were no parking places available. Sigh. At that point I belatedly consulted my trusty GPS and found that there was a parking garage just a block away. Pulling into that garage, we were immediately greeted by a friendly attendant who asked us to pull in and leave the keys. Gee, I hope that guy really worked there. Oh well, we were hungry, so we left the keys and with much clicking of high heels, we were off to dinner.
Wilde was a very nice place. We were seated in a prime booth near the front of the establishment. It was raised slightly from the main floor which offered us a nice view of the other patrons, and offered them a nice view of us. I noticed one athletic type guy looking and pointing us out to his girlfriend. I smiled and waved to him. He sheepishly waved back and stopped staring.
Something that we noticed that night was that the Halloween atmosphere seemed to make people much more free to openly look us over. No doubt they saw us as being in costume, rather than as a group of sexy ladies out on the town. A bit disconcerting, but nothing a few drinks wasn’t able to cure.
Now there is a bit of information with which I must make you aware, for it is crucial for proper understanding of a later part of this tale. (Rather like the way that the reader must be aware that Marley was well and truly dead.) Our dear Audrey decided to wear something on the formal side that evening. She wore a tuxedo jacket, shirt and bow tie with a short black skirt. She then ended up being seated in the middle of the group with two of us on each side. Can you picture that? Now hold that thought until after dinner. And don’t think about an elephant. Oops, got you!
Speaking of costumes, there was one guy dressed in white robes and a beard. His costume led to some disagreements among our group. Some (including myself) opted for Rasputin the mad monk of Imperial Russia. Others thought him to be Jesus Christ. He passed by our table a number of times on his way to the front door. Apparently he was going outside for a smoke. This of course seemed improper for JC and further solidified my vote for Rasputin. We were never able to catch his attention as he walked by, but the mystery was later revealed by other means.
At the end of a very good meal, it was time to visit the ladies room. Rebecca had already headed that direction when Jackie and I decided the time had come. As you might expect, the restrooms were at the very back of the restaurant. Getting there required navigating past numerous tables and then along the length of the bar. It definitely was not a route to be taken by a tranny lacking in self-confidence. As if to prove the point, as we passed the bar area, we were treated to wolf whistles and applause. Ah, they noticed that I dressed in my sexy best! That was almost as good as a pat on the bottom, maybe better!
Our business done, we made our way back upstream. It was at that moment when we encountered one of those chance moments that changes everything. We were stopped by an older gentleman sitting at the bar with his date.
He looked quite dapper in his beret, and he was very complementary about our appearance that night. He explained that they walked into the restaurant and saw the five of us sitting there with Audry in the middle. He guessed that Audry was supposed to be Hugh Hefner and the rest of us his playmates. It was a bit of a low blow to Audry until she realized that being behind the table she could only be seen from the waist up. So, she looked like a lady in formal drag as Hugh Hefner.We stood and chatted for a few minutes and our new friends inquired about our post-dinner plans. We explained our vague plans about hitting some clubs, whereupon he suggested that we should go to the little place a few doors down where they had a group playing jazz, with no cover charge. We agreed to consider it and then we took our leave to return to the others at the table. However, before we could take more than a step or two, Rasputin/JC approached us and asked with an Irish accent if we would consent to have our picture taken with him. I readily agreed (another duh!) but insisted on first knowing which historical figure he was portraying. The question was answered when he pointed out that he was wearing a crown of thorns. I can’t remember Rasputin wearing such a crown.
We returned to the table and passed along the intelligence about the jazz club nearby. We were still uncertain, so we all went back to the bar to discuss the situation. In the end, we all headed down the street to Sura to see what we might find.
Inside Sura we found that the 3-piece jazz group was taking a break, and we looked around to find a place to sit. Our new friend exchanged loud greetings with the priest at the bar (yes, that’s what I said) who passed back blessings and approval to push together tables for our group that was now swollen to seven. We sat down and made introductions. Our new friends were Patricia (Pat) and Patrick (Pat). She was pretty quiet and reserved (and probably a bit hammered), he was very outgoing. He graciously bought everyone a drink.
I do not remember exactly how Warren was pulled into the group, but Patrick began doing some verbal sparring with him and soon he was seated with us. Warren was a nice guy, younger than Patrick, and good looking. With the band playing, I found it difficult to hear all the details, but I gathered that he was involved in music, perhaps a DJ or a promoter or something. I found out later that he is actually a jazz recording artist with quite a few albums (yes, I showed my age by calling them albums) to his credit.After a few drinks with Warren and the Pats, we decided it was time to move on. I gave each of them a card with my email address. I have since traded messages with Warren, but nothing from the Pats. We took our leave and went to retrieve my car. Fortunately, it was waiting for us at the parking garage, so apparently they guy really did work there.
At that point it was just about midnight. We were a bit divided about whether to take in a club or to call it a night. We decided to continue braving the cold wind on our exposed legs and try for a club. We drove West on Belmont and turned North on Halsted. As we turned we saw that there was a long line outside of Spin. Heading further North we found similarly long lines at Berlin, Roscoe’s, and Sidetrack. There were multitudes of people on the sidewalk and cars cruising the street. We turned West on Addison and found that the throngs continued until we passed Wrigley Field. Had it been a warmer evening, I think we would have been happy to park and just walk among the crowds, but the cold wind and the long lines convinced us that it was time to head for the suburbs.
Since it was cold, we naturally decided to end the evening by going into Sally’s Pancake House and having ice cream. Yummy sundaes! We took some photos outside in the cold, and then we took our leave of Sarah and Audry. Rebecca and I dropped Jackie off in the alley behind Janna’s Place and drove away. We found out later that Jackie (1) was “in her cups”, and (2) had failed to take her keys to the establishment with her. This leads to a wonderful image of an inebriated Jackie, wearing a delightful minidress and high heels, climbing through a window.
I dropped Rebecca off at her hotel, and made it home in time to get undressed, remove makeup, and get into bed by 4:00 AM. It was a great night, and quite different from what I expected. My only regret was that no one patted my fanny.
*****
I have been honored to write this column for The Primrose for a little over 2 years now. It has been very gratifying to occasionally meet people who read my words and actually seem to like them (there is no understanding people’s tastes). But my personal journey through Transland has brought me to a point where I am no longer able to deliver a column every month. In the future, I hope to submit occasional articles as the spirit moves me, and it will up to the esteemed Publisher of The Primrose to determine if those articles are worth publishing.
Thank you all for rambling along with me. I hope to see you out and about one of these days.
Hugs,Greer
*****
Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Please send to me at greercd@hotmail.com.
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