Yesterday afternoon I was waiting for the bus. Nothing exciting there. But then I saw a man wearing in a black minidress, black go-go boots, and a huge blonde wig, walking up the street. He carried a gold lamé purse. The whole look was truly fabulous.
He stopped at the ATM in front of the bus stop. While he was at the machine, a woman got on line behind him. I’m not sure if something transpired between them because I wasn’t really paying attention. But all of a sudden the guy was ranting at this chick. He gave her a bunch of attitude and wagged his finger at her, and concluded his tirade with, “I’m just glad I’m gay!” And he blew past her in a huff.
I have no idea why he went off on her—maybe she said or did something to set him off (she did kind of look like she could be a bitch), or maybe he just decided he didn’t like her for reasons known only to him. Everyone around me looked at him like he was contagious and gave him a wide berth.
I didn’t get a crazy vibe from him—raging drama queen, maybe, but not crazy. I found him interesting. For starters, he looked fantastic in that dress, with shaplier legs than I’ve seen on most women. That’s not fair. Secondly, I wondered why he was wearing knee-high boots in 95-degree weather. Maybe he really was out of his mind. But the boots went well with the dress and he really worked it. He looked like Rupaul but with darker skin and less makeup.
As he passed me we made eye contact and I smiled at him. His whole face smiled back and he said, “You’re beautiful, honey.” I said, “Thank you, so are you!” That seemed to make him very happy.
But I couldn’t help myself, I had to know: “I hope you don’t mind my asking but aren’t those boots really hot on a day like today?” He laughed. “Oh no, they’re actually a lot more comfortable than you’d think!”
As he sashayed away he looked at me over his shoulder and yelled, “You have a beautiful weekend, honey!” I thanked him and wished him a beautiful weekend as well.
He made my day a little brighter.