As
always, three AM came much sooner than I might have hoped when I had laid my
head down on my pillow the night before. It seemed like I had just fallen
asleep when the damned alarm went off. I briefly considered throwing my
phone (which I use as my alarm clock) but figured that in the end it would have
just made my life that much harder to make the trip without a working phone. I
had just returned from a trip to Knoxville that night, and so it is starting to
feel like my whole life revolves around getting on a airplane, working, getting
on an airplane home, do laundry, wash, rinse and repeat cycle over and over and
over and over . . .
I
had hoped to wear a new top that I had bought a few weeks ago when my daughter
and I were shopping for a blouse for her school band uniform. It was a pretty
black thing, with open shoulders and long sheer sleeves, but despite being a
"large", it was far too small for me. It wasn’t even a close
thing; that puppy just barely went on and was snug in all of the wrong places.
My loss was my 14 year old daughters gain though as it fit that skinny
little shit perfectly and she was all smiles as she packed it off to her closet.
“Sorry it didn’t fit you!” she lied as she took the hanger from me.
“Sorry it didn’t fit you!” she lied as she took the hanger from me.
Women's
sizes are so damned inconsistent. You take a gamble every single time that you
buy something without trying it on first. As an example, I've bought two pair
of flat shoes in the last two weeks, both claiming to be size 10, but one pair
was so small that I could hardly get my feet into it, and the other pair was so
large that they wouldn't stay on my feet. My education and training from
the Army is in electronics and metrology. No, I didn't misspell
"meteorology", I meant
"metrology” – the science of weights and measurements. For those of you
who are not in the loop, somewhere in the United States right now, people are
maintaining standards for almost anything that you measure: Inches, seconds,
volts, current, frequency, etc. While they may have gone to something fancier like
the wavelength of the suns farts since I went to school, there used to be a
metal block that was the formal inch for America. It was made out of highly
stable material, maintained in a controlled environment where it can't oxidize,
and it is never touched by human hands for fear of skin oils degrading,
contaminating, or altering it. Any device in the United States that claimed to
measure inches had to prove that it
was in some way, shape, or form traceable back to that little block. In this
way, we can all be reasonably confident that an inch would actually be
an inch, no matter who made it or measured it. Yeah, well clearly the
women's fashion industry has never, ever heard of the concepts of
standardization or traceability, or else they threw that shit out the window a
long time ago.
"Screw
it, today this is a size 10!" Said the little shoe elf, throwing
his latest work into the closest bin to his bench. Would it be too much to ask
for a little consistency in sizing?!
Fat old bat |
As I've hinted at a lot these days, I've been kind of losing my shit lately, and I'm hoping that most of it is being caused by the steroids that I've had to take off and on for the better part of a year and a half now. This became evident once I was ready and had my backpack and luggage together to head for the airport, because I just stood in the living room with my legs shaking so badly that I was afraid the sound of my heel tapping on the floor would wake someone up. I really don't know if it's the stress of multiple unexpected deaths in so short a period, the anxiety of knowing what an emotional mess I'm headed to in California today, anxiety about traveling to my childhood home, or the results of a shit load of steroids for an extended period, but I am clearly a nervous fricking wreck. It's funny how often military training comes in handy in ways that you would never really expect. In the army they taught you that it didn't matter how large, hard, or frightening the task ahead of you was, you waded in, put one foot in front of the other, and you damn well keep going until it gets done. With that thought in my mind, I headed for the front door, shaky legs and all. . .
Today
I'm traveling on American Airlines in first class using tickets that I bought
with my airline miles. When I approached the counter, a bright and bubbly young
lady waved me forward with a big smile on her face. We both recognized each
other because I had flown American Airlines preferentially for a couple of
years until I got fed up with their always being late, and so went back to
Delta.
"Hey!
We haven't seen you in a while. Where have ya been?" She asked me.
"To
tell the truth, I’ve been flying Delta." I replied, ducking my head and hiding
my eyes behind my hand feigning shame.
"No?!
Why haven’t you been flying with us? Don't tell me that we haven't been
treating you right?!" She asked softly, clearly genuinely concerned.
"No
no, it's nothing like that!" I assured her. "Delta just seems to go
most of the places that I travel to."
There
was a little bit of a white lie
there, as I do just kind of prefer
Delta to be honest. Her friendly and outgoing attitude, combined with her
genuine concern that her airline might not have treated me well did manage to make me feel just a tad guilty
for abandoning them though. The joke is probably gonna be on me soon though as
my company is going to a new travel agency in an attempt to save more money,
and I suspect that they are going to farm me out to whatever airline offers the
very cheapest tickets to that weeks destination. This will make it impossible
to gain "status" with any
airline. I’m just one flight short of platinum with Delta, and now it's
probably not gonna do me any good. Damn it.
I
had a good giggle while sitting in the gate area of the Austin airport. I was
sitting under one of the televisions when the story came on about Danica
Roem - the first openly transgender person to be elected to the Virginia
House of Delegates. I couldn't help noticing several sets of eyes dropping from
the TV above my head to glance at me during the story. None of them were
hostile looks, don’t get me wrong, they were more of a "Huh, what do ya
know!" kind of look from most I think.
Gate Area in Phoenix |
Unlike
the quiet and sedate gate area in Austin, the gate area in the Phoenix airport
was absolutely insane. They had about 8 gates all located at the end of the
terminal and so it was a huge crowd of people all packed into a very small
area. I stood there for quite a while until someone vacated a seat which I
quickly helped myself to, but my luck wasn't to last. While sitting there
going through my things, I realized that I had somehow managed to lose my
ticket somewhere. I don't think that I got more than two steps toward the
counter to get a replacement before someone had swiped my seat. After I
obtained my replacement ticket, the only area I could find with enough
room to even stand was right next to the trash cans, so I made myself
comfortable there and rested my backpack on top of the trash can. I quickly
realized the flaw in my plan though when people kept saying "excuse me
ma'am" and asking me to move so that they could use the trash can for its
intended purpose.
When
boarding the plane, the male flight attendant went out of his way to tell me
how nice I looked, so that was kind of nice I suppose. I was sitting there in
my seat and wondering if it was obvious to him just how nervous I really was
when a young man pointed at the seat next to me to indicate that the seat was
his, and that he needed me to get up to let him in. It's the little
things you know, because it helped my nerves when he said "thank you
dear!" to me. There may well be
assholes in the world, but not everyone is one of them. Such a small act of kindness from him had
such a big effect on my state of mind.
Another
one of the wonderful side effects of all of the drugs that I take for my legs
is that I have to visit the bathroom a lot more often than I care for. As I was
exiting the bathroom on one of my multiple visits, the male flight attendant
was showing the female flight attendant a photo from his phone of him wearing a
nuns habit for Halloween. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what had
prompted his desire to share that particular photo at that particular moment,
but I couldn’t help grinning all the same as I saw it. I was SOOO gonna ask him
if I should call him “Sister” or “Mother Superior” when it came time to exit
the plane, but he was busy putting things away as I exited and so I’d have had
to go well out of my way to get his attention. I decided that the laugh wasn’t
worth it and just trudged my happy ass off of the plane along with the rest of
the cattle.
Since
I used my Holiday Inn points to rent the car for free, I wasn’t renting with my
preferred vendor, but was using the one that the Holiday Inn offered –
Dollar. Hence, I found myself standing
in line at the counter to fill out all of the typical paper work. I have no
idea what the problem was, but the woman in front of me was taking what seemed
like forever. The customer service rep looked up at me once or twice over about
10 minutes and assured me that she would be right with me, and I assured her
that it was no problem. When I finally had my turn at the counter, she went out
of her way to apologize that it had taken so long and I just laughed.
“It’s no problem; I’m just old and tired and look like I’m pissed off because I’ve been up traveling since 1 AM your time.”
“It’s no problem; I’m just old and tired and look like I’m pissed off because I’ve been up traveling since 1 AM your time.”
“You
look great for having been at it since 1 AM!” she told me with a grin.
“Thank
you, but we both know that you just fibbed. I can guess just how bad I must look
at this point.” I told her with a laugh. We continued to chat to fill the
silence while she was printing out all of the paper work, and she asked about
the small town in Texas that I live in. I told her that it was roughly about
the size of Apple Valley, CA, where I had been born and raised. She then asked
me what had brought me back to California on this trip and I explained that it
was for my sister-in-laws funeral.
“I’m
so sorry. Were you close?”
“No, not really. To be honest, I didn’t really care a whole lot for her but I love the hell outta my brother, so here I am.”
“No, not really. To be honest, I didn’t really care a whole lot for her but I love the hell outta my brother, so here I am.”
This
drew a laugh from both her and from
the woman standing next to her who had apparently been listening in. In short
order, I had my little rental car and was headed up the mountains to the high
desert and the general area where I had grown up.
The Green Tree Inn |
As I
was exiting the freeway in Victorville to make my way to my room at the Holiday
Inn that I had also rented with my points, I found myself passing the Green
Tree Inn. Yeah, I know that name isn’t going to mean a thing to any of you, but
it was almost a mythical place for me. My grandmother had retired there after
working as a waitress in the dining room and country club for more than 15
years. My mother had also worked there for a few years and so had my aunt.
Hell, it seems like almost every woman in my family had worked there at one
point or another I guess. As I’ve told y’all before, we grew up without a whole
lot of money, and for many years my brother, my sister, and I lived with my
grandmother in her mobile home. She would come home from work, worn out and
tired, and sharing stories of her day at the “GREEN TREE”. Yeah, I capitalized
that on purpose, because to a little child, this seemed like a far away and
magical place. Of course all of these stories and memories are filtered through
a small child’s perceptions, but she would tell us about the great people that
she had taken care of, who laughed and had invited her to be a part of their
evening, and yes, were generous with their tips. She would also tell us all
about the awful people that she had taken care of, who despite their wealth and
privilege, were rude slobs that made horrific messes and then tipped poorly. A
decade of stories flitted in and out of my mind as I passed that sign, and I
seriously considered trying to find the time to get a lunch or dinner there
just to see what all of the fuss had been about. Ultimately though, I decided
I’d better leave this childhood fantasy alone, as the reality of the place 40
years later was unlikely to be flattering to the magical place that I had
created in my mind.
Even
though it was relatively early in the California day (around 4PM), I was
totally wiped out and so I begged off for the day when I spoke to my brother.
There was no way in hell that I was up for a couple more hours of driving and
all of the emotional turmoil that I knew was going to take place, so I promised
to join him first thing in the morning as he had to take a friend down into the
Ontario area for a doctor appointment. He thought that maybe I wouldn’t want to
get up so early to go with him, but I laughed and told him that the same two
hour time change that was kicking my ass that evening was going to work in my
favor in the morning and that I’d be up and running long before he was. The
friend that he was giving a ride to was quite the talker, which was both good
and bad. One thing that we didn’t have to endure was any kind of awkward
silences. She was being treated for breast cancer and had just had a mastectomy,
so that sort of put my own little medical problems into perspective. Let’s see
– bumpy painful legs as compared to missing breast and cancer still killing
you. Yeah, I’m good – thanks.
We
stopped for breakfast at Dennys after her doctor appointment, and I picked up
the meal while my brother got the tip. I’ve gotta admit that I was kind of
surprised when he put down a $20 tip on our $50 breakfast. Knowing that the
tips that my grandmother had received had fed us as children, I’ve always tipped
well, but I thought this was kind of excessive and told him so. Funny – he told
me all of the same things that I’m telling you, and it all boiled down to our
memories of my grandmother and how hard she had worked to provide for us. I’m
guessing that my brother made that young waiters day, and I can think of worse
things to do with $20. I spent the rest of the day hanging out with my brother,
his grandchildren, and my sister.
You
wouldn’t think it possible, but things actually managed to get worse the next
morning. My hotel was about 30 minutes from my brothers home as he lives a bit
out in the sticks. I decided to hopefully make a good impression with the house
full of children that hardly remember me, and so I arrived from town bearing
about five dozen donuts. We were in the process of giving all of the children a
sugar high from donuts when my sister received a call from the sheriff in
Prescott Az urgently asking if there was anyone in her home at the moment. It
turns out that while we were eating donuts, my sisters place in Arizona was
happily burning to the ground and the sheriff needed to be sure that there was no
one inside of it.
Oh.
My.
God.
Her
35 year old daughter died two months ago.
She
is in southern California for the funeral of my brothers wife, and is dealing
with my heart broken brother.
Now
her house has burned to the ground. I don’t even know where to start, or how to
console her. We are all just absolutely shell shocked. Obviously there was
nothing to be done for the house fire from so far away, and so my sister
continued on through the day as planned while just randomly breaking down in
tears at any given moment. She’s so lost. My brother is so lost. I’m lost with them,
because I have absolutely no idea how I can help them from 1,500 miles away.
My Brother and his Wife |
Later
that afternoon a lot of my family got together at a restaurant called “BJ’s” before the funeral. Everyone there was extended family, but many of them are people that I had
grown up with but haven’t seen in 30 years or more. As a result, more than once
I had to admit “I’m so sorry, but I’m not sure who the hell you are.” Sometimes
this earned me a laugh, and sometimes a hurt look, but again, it is what it is.
Among this gathering were my cousin Sherry and her daughter Savannah. Sherry had grown up so close to us for most of
our lives that my siblings and I all consider her far more of a sister than as
a cousin. At this point I get one more head trip to add to my ever growing
list, because Savannah is also transgender. She, however, has been full time
for most of her life, is young and beautiful, and has a wonderful advantage in
life – a mother who understands and is supportive. I reached out to her a few
years ago on Facebook, just wanting her to know that she wasn’t alone, and that
I was both happy and proud of her, but I don’t think that I impressed her
overly much. We never had the chance to speak alone this trip, but I did go out
of my way to tell her again that I was happy for her and that I was proud of her.
I probably just came off as some creepy old uncle, but hey, I tried. I actually
did get a few minutes alone with her
mother, and was incredibly torn. I
wanted to tell her about myself, and express my respect and admiration for the
way that she had dealt with her own daughter, but I ultimately decided that
this would have been an incredibly selfish thing for me to do at this
particular time. I think that I will
talk to her soon, but doing it when everyone is gathering for a funeral and my
sisters home has burnt to the ground is definitely not the right moment.
Sunday
morning I made my way back down the mountain to the Ontario
airport. I’m physically worn out, but even worse is the mental exhaustion, so I
never even briefly considered flying as Kim. It therefore came as a bit of a
surprise when the lady that checked my rental car in turned out to be the same
lady that had given it to me, and she remembered me! I figure this is further
evidence that my looks have plummeted downhill, because 10 years ago no one
that knew me well as Matt would have ever recognized me as Kim, or the other
way around, and yet this woman that deals with hundreds of people a day
recognized and remembered me three days after having met me once. She asked
about the funeral and expressed her hope that I’d managed to enjoy some part of
my time here. You know what I thought was awesome? She obviously was well aware
that I was TG and clearly didn’t care. She treated me at least as well as
anyone else and just spoke to me like a human being. Damn it, I miss California
sometimes.
Kim -
ReplyDeleteI miss CA, and I never had the pleasure of living there. Too bad it's so damned expensive, or I'd bet that you'd be living there again.
M
Kim,
ReplyDeleteI lived in California years ago, and attended college there for a few semesters. Other than the traffic (yes, even back then), it was a wonderful place to live.
My wife and I visited (and toured) the lower half of California in the early 2000's. and I was in SoCal a couple years ago on one of my excursions. There is so much to do and see, thus it would be fun to live there again. Never a dull weekend.
With the exception of a nasty car rental agent that I had on my excursion, there were no people problems at all. My biggest reservations would be: the astronomical cost of living, high taxes, the ever-present traffic, earthquakes, fires, floods, and of course, landslides. My parents looked at a beautiful new house in a hillside development near Oakland (incomparable view, fabulous house, but they didn't buy). A year later, it slid down the hill in a torrential rainstorm...
So, no moves in our future...we're stuck here on the Delmarva, at elevation 45 feet+ above sea level, miles from the shoreline and presumably safe from Atlantic storm surge.
Travel safe...
Mandy
Oh yeah, I gave up my dreams of moving back to Calif years ago due to the cost of living.
ReplyDeleteI just do not know what to say about the storm of woes that have beset you and your family in recent times other than to let you know you have my best thoughts, hopes and prayers and that you know that like everything else in life that 'this too shall pass'
ReplyDeleteGod Bless you and your family,
Pax
Pat
Kimberly,
ReplyDeleteIt's just amazing, the misfortunes that you and your close family have endured recently, and how well you seem to have coped. I recently had to fly (in drab) from one side of Australia to the other to attend my dear sister's funeral, so I can empathize with you on the arduous travel when you just want to curl up in a corner and cry your eyes out. God bless.
Fond regards,
Janet
Here's to hoping that this string of tragedies has run out and that normalcy restores itself posthaste.
ReplyDeleteLike Pat I am lost for words to express how I feel about this storm of tragedy that has struck your family. I can only say that you all are in my thoughts and prayers.
ReplyDelete