Retro Rerun: The Terror of 275

In 1998 TGF Contributor Leah Maclean wrote about her road trip into Omaha to meet some friends for crossdressed fun. That article is our Retro Rerun for today. For some reason Leah was feeling more confident on that trip and stopped several times to browse cosmetics counters looking for a certain color nail polish. She didn’t find the polish but she did have a pleasant adventure.

By Leah MacLean

I put the SHO on cruise and the Elkhorn River valley opened up before me. Even on its best days, which are never in February, this piece of northeast Nebraska beckons to no one but those whose life it is to till the soil. It is farm country and nothing more, the homely but sturdy daughter of the Upper Midwest.

Our conversation still happily buzzed in my ears. Today was the first time in months that my wife had wanted to see “Leah.” We had talked for quite some time before I had left today for Omaha. I was running a little behind as a result but I was happy to make the trade. She had even said that I looked nice as we discussed my outfit. We talked at length about how things were and should be and a light that hadn’t shone for so long began to softly glow.

The tiny town of Wisner came into view. My first stop. Ahead was the truck stop where I would fuel up the vehicle. The place looked quiet on the outside as I rolled in. There were no other cars at the pumps, but vehicles of all kinds were parked around the building. I knew from previous visits that inside there would be a handful of farmers and truckers sitting around two small tables shooting the breeze and drinking coffee. My heart began to beat a little faster. Wisner had now been “shown.” Well, at least some of it had anyway.

Heading southward once again, I decided that I needed some more “glazed copper” nail polish. I knew that the Alco store in West Point had a small selection of cosmetics, so I planned a stop there.

I pulled into the lot and got out of the car, swinging my legs out of the car simultaneously as I had watched women in skirts do for years. I walked towards the storefront but this time there was a little more confidence in my stride. I was amazed to find that I had adopted such a “devil may care” attitude so quickly. I liked the feeling though and was glad that it was upon me.

Once in the store I dodged the usual congestion of shopping cart pilots prepping for takeoff at the entrance and headed for the cosmetics. I wanted to look into the faces of the people around me to see their reaction but I decided that it didn’t matter. I was here whatever they were.

I spent a thoroughly enjoyable fifteen minutes browsing in the cosmetics area, even though I knew shortly after arriving that the color that I wanted wasn’t there. I drank in the simple pleasure of being dressed as a woman and looking at “girl” stuff. It felt so right!

I knew that I had other commitments so I headed back for the exit and past the tangle of carts. This time I allowed myself to look at the other shoppers at the checkout stands. I could tell that those who did notice me were wearing a look of slight bewilderment as if they were silently asking, “What exactly am I seeing here?” I passed by some elderly ladies at the exit and suddenly felt ridiculously tall, even in my flats. Still what I was feeling from them wasn’t hostility, just curiosity.

Fremont was my next stop. I still wanted to get some of that nail polish and by some odd coincidence, I knew that the Walgreen’s drug store there had a good selection of “stuff.”

I found a parking spot right in front of the store and again swung my legs out in unison. The newfound confidence was still there as I headed for the front door and made my way into the wondrous world of cosmetics. Somehow, as I entered the cosmetics area, I ended up in the “no man’s land” behind the cash register desk and the case full of the “good stuff” behind it. Fortunately, my little blunder didn’t seem to bother any of the clerks. None of them seemed to pay me any mind anyway. Maybe I was nothing new to them or perhaps it was because they didn’t want to mess with six foot something transvestite.

The color that I was looking for wasn’t here either so I again decided to just browse. I felt much more relaxed here. There were many more shoppers in this store and for some reason this put me more at ease. I listened to the chatter of the other shoppers in the store and tried to discern if I had become an “item” yet. It didn’t appear that I was. If anyone had noticed me it certainly wasn’t being broadcast. I was still wondering what the source of my bravado was. I had been on brief forays into the real world before, but those little “flings” were always in the company of a wildly thumping heart. Today my pulse rate held normal for whatever wonderful and still unknown reason. Had the conversation with my wife translated itself into self-confidence? Or was it just my time to be out and about?

Omaha was still 45 miles away when I left the Walgreen’s parking lot. I rolled on to 275 once again and put the car into overdrive. There wasn’t much between here and Omaha as far as shopping was concerned, but I had decided that another stop was in order, or rather, Mother Nature found a way to tell me that one was due. In a previous outing a month or so earlier I had made a minor miscalculation or two and the need to make a stop had become rather urgent. With some reluctance, I stopped by a convenience store in Omaha that I had never visited before and charged for the entrance door with red hair flying. A guy was headed out the same door about the same time I reached it. Our eyes met (I still think that his widened more than mine) and he uttered a sound that sort of sounded like a “Hi” and a “Wow” all rolled into one little unintelligible noise, something like “Hwow.” I blew by him at a dangerously high speed and headed directly towards the rear of the store . I found the ladies room and without a second thought, entered. No problem here, just another “T” girl with trouble judging time, distance and the capacity of medium sized drinks. Responding in an email a few days later, my pal Lowla advised me that had I dropped my leading shoulder ala hockey players, I could’ve knocked the guy off of his feet easily and lost very little time in the process.

I had chosen a small convenience store on the outskirts of the very tiny town of Bennington to answer “nature’s call.” This particular store’s rather limited conveniences made it a perfect choice as far as I was concerned. There was only one bathroom in the entire place. No decisions about which one to use! No worries about explaining myself to less than sympathetic Deputy Sheriffs. The trip to the bathroom was uneventful even though I had to pass through a small contingent of guys buying Saturday afternoon’s beer supply on the way. It appeared that the price of beer was of far more importance to them than being on the lookout for visiting “T” girls. The bathroom wasn’t in use when I arrived and so I went on in.

When I was almost ready to leave the tiny room I heard two female voices outside the door and the doorknob rattled a couple of times as they tried to get in. I smiled to myself and actually looked forward to entering the narrow hallway outside the bathroom where I knew where the owners of the voices would be standing. I checked my look one more time in the mirror and headed out the door.

I popped into the hallway and the conversation, which had been quite lively, suddenly ceased to be. The two middle-aged women standing outside the door went absolutely and positively rigid with surprise. Their hands were frozen in mid-flight and their ever widening eyes looked up at me and asked the question that their mouths couldn’t. I gave them a knowing little smile and my best “twinkling” eyes as I swished on by them. As far as I know, they’re still standing there.

The conversation with my wife replayed itself once again as I neared the outskirts of Omaha. Though I doubted she’d ever look at “Leah” as a real friend of hers, at least now “Leah” was more welcome in the house when she was around. I could now use optimism and crossdressing in the same sentence it would appear. Was it any wonder why I was having such a good time today?

Later that day. . .

The greeter at the restaurant didn’t really seem pleased to see me when I came through the door and seemed even less happy when I asked for a non-smoking booth in a voice that didn’t exactly match my clothes. I followed him around tables full of happily chatting midwestern folk waiting for their supper. No great and foreboding silence spread over the room, as I would have predicted before today. I’m sure that I was noticed, but no one made a scene over it.

I swung into my booth as gracefully as I could and tried to appear nonchalant as I waited for the waitress. Across the way a young couple with three kids were seated. “Mom” laughed a little but I’m really not sure at what. The kids clambered all over their booth and apparently never noticed me. A man and a young woman sat in the booth that I faced. The woman had her back to me. They were talking shop and I soon gathered that they were lawyers. Occasionally I would look up and catch the man looking at me. It seemed obvious that he didn’t believe what he was seeing. The young waitress came by with the menu and I watched her face as she realized that “Booth 42” wasn’t quite what she had been expecting. She maintained her composure fairly well though and took my order. My pancakes with strawberries were on their way. My order arrived and my now slightly flustered waitress forgot my orange juice. I had to remind her to bring it to me when she came back to see how I was doing. I wasn’t upset with her. This had to be just a trifle unsettling for her, but I bet she had some stories for her coworkers in the back room.

After an uneventful supper I left for Robin’s place and changed clothes there. I exchanged my black velour “T” top and denim skirt for a pretty hunter green velour dress. My new light brown “stealth” wig was traded for my too long and too red one. We were to meet Stef for a night out at “The Max” in about an hour. That night at the club we discussed movies, music and of course, breakfast cereals. It seems that I am one of the few people on the face of the earth who isn’t crazy about the movie, Titanic or “Cap’n Crunch with Crunchberries” cereal. (I like “Cocoa Krispies” and As Good As It Gets much, much better.) I drove the long way back home that night and didn’t arrive until 3 A.M. I had a lot of time to think about my adventures during the drive and relish what I had accomplished that day. Much of the commonly held opinion that I had read about being out in public had been proven to me. My fears of going out had largely vanished and I eagerly looked forward to my next outing.

When I reflect back over that day what I find I liked best and am happiest about, was that some people here in this. . . shall we say, “non-progressive,” neck of the woods got to see a real live “T” girl. Hopefully they gained some kind of understanding. Those that did notice me got something to think about and that, as far as I’m concerned, is what it’s all about. Get ’em thinking!

People only see what they are prepared to see.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tags: crossdressing, featured, Out & About, passing

Category: crossdressing