More Accidents and Mishaps: Part 2

I thought I’d start this piece with some golden rules of being out and about en-femme:

The more you go out and about, the more chance you’ll have of having more than a few “close shaves.”

The more confident you are in your appearance, the more risks you’ll (sub-consciously) be prepared to take.

The more accidents and mishaps you have, the more you’ll vow to be just that little bit more careful, that extra vigilant–and not to repeat them

Sounds good, right? Sounds correct?

Yes, great in theory, but well we all know how sometimes a T girl gets so wound up in herself; so enthralled by the ways she looks; and is so excited about having the chance to be out and about en-femme that she forgets to turn her brain on to “be careful” mode. . .  and lets the rush of the experience go to her head.

These are two very true experiences I have had over the last 2 years, both of which, in hindsight, make me think: What on earth was I thinking? What happened to the usual rational, conservative me? How did I get into such a situation?

Anyway, read on and judge for yourself: did Christine almost lose the plot?

Not long after I’d move to the city where I now live, I met a genetic girl called San who became a friend and confidant and who was comfortable with me both as “him” and “me.” One night we arranged to go for dinner and, to my surprise, she turned up (looking quite amazing I must add) on a small motorcycle. She managed to cajole me to ride pillion despite my concerns about the shortness of my “little black dress” and also the lack of a safety helmet. Now if you’ve ever been on the back of a motorcycle, sitting side-saddle  in a very short dress is actually — well how can I put it, very challenging not to continuously reveal all.

On the 10 minute ride to the restaurant my friend announced that she really had to have her hair dried properly (her hair was so long, right down to her waist); we wouldn’t be long and could she detour into one of the small side Sois (lanes) to see her friend, Som the hairdresser? Not having much choice in the matter and more concerned with actually staying on the machine, I murmured “okay” (I think).

I know you can guess what happened as we just about arrived at Som’s shop — well to keep it short and sweet, San took a short cut down a single track lane, turned a sharp right onto the hairdresser’s Soi — only to come face to face with a tuk-tuk (a 3 wheeled sort of mini taxi we use here). Big screech of breaks; very sudden stop — and, yes, Christine and San were suddenly lying flat on our backs in the road. Fortunately, we were both unhurt, but it was alright for San as the crowd of 8-10 people who had instantly gathered just glanced at her as she dusted herself down; yet most of them were transfixed by the dishevelled foreign “woman” sitting in the road, dress high up on her thighs and wig askew….

After the minor shock had worn off, I must admit I let myself have a small, wry smile — but also promised myself never to try or do anything so stupid again! Well, not until next time….

Some six months later I ventured to drive to a small, well known, touristy town set high in the mountains close to the border with Myanmar—only some 120km away but a 3 hours drive as the road between my city and the town has over 700 bends through a mountainous region. I enjoyed two very nice relaxing days en-femme and late-Sunday afternoon decided to start to meander back home, still as “me.”

The first hour passed quickly with not too much traffic around and I soon found myself close to the crest of a pass between two mountain ranges just as twilight was falling. Coming around a long sweeping bend I saw series of red tail-lights ahead and slowed to join the queue of cars. At first I thought it might have been an accident but 100 metres further on I could see it was a checkpoint — and an army checkpoint at that. However, I was not unduly surprised, as the road in question does see a lot of drugs related traffic given its proximity to the border and also its remoteness.

Ten minutes later, still with no other cars behind me, it was my turn at the checkpoint and I wound down my window to let the armed solider see who was driving. He smiled at this “foreign lady” driver and I was just about to slip the car back into first gear and cruise past when he pointed ahead and said, “Pull over, up there.”

Still no big deal I thought — until one of the soldier’s colleagues beckoned to me stop in a side area about 50 metres ahead — and then ordered me get out of my car. A wave of fear swept over me but I didn’t have time to start shaking as, materialising out the darkness, three other soldiers swooped on my car and began poking at my luggage, opening the boot, the engine cover and any other place they could. They looked under the seats, in the dashboard compartment and asked to see in my handbag

I swallowed hard wondering if they knew I was not what I seemed — my mind in turmoil with the fear that they might want to start bodily searching me… heeelllllppppp!! This will need some explaining I thought as my heart raced.

In the end, this was not, apparently, necessary and my predicament was all over in less than 5 minutes. A solder gave me my car keys back and waved me onwards; yet it had seemed like I had there much longer, an eternity in fact and, with a parched, dry throat, shaking knees and a huge, huge sigh or two of relief I eased gently away from the checkpoint.

To be fair, the soldiers were all very polite and one even tried to engage me in casual conversation — yet I was just happy that Christine had lived to tell the tale!

Moral of these escapades? Not sure really.  Maybe draw your own conclusions but whatever you do: be warned, beware and be safe… don’t let your alter ego get you into more trouble than you really need to!

Tags: crossdressing, featured, mishaps

Category: Transgender Fun & Entertainment