Sunday, March 13, 2011


I was talking with an old friend the other day and somehow the subject of cross-dressing came up.  And when I say somehow, what I mean is I was telling her about one of my cross dressing exploits.  My mom taught me that a real man is secure, after all.  Maybe I'm taking that too far?  So that's how the cross dressing subject came up.  I even admitted that I was pretty hot when an old girlfriend made me up in high school.  I got a polite, but uncomfortable chuckle in response.  Because too much is never enough for me, I further elaborated on another cross-dressing situation.  After telling her about it she asked me in a somewhat serious manner, "You didn't blog that.  Did you?" in a way that basically said you should keep that to yourself at all costs.  I said, "No.  But I will."  And here we are.

The place was Hawaii, during a road trip while playing for Sac State.  It was a week long trip.  The last day and a half was basically a vacation.  After our last game, I made a pit stop on the way home at one of the ever present ABC stores.  If you've been to Hawaii, then you know the store.  If not, believe me when I say that they are on nearly every corner.  And they had HG Olde English 800.  So I got two forties.

Now, in order to keep this PG, I'll not explicate the depths of my depravity on this trip, but for subtle innuendo.  The fact that I was a mere year removed from Chico State should be enough to fill in whatever blanks there may be.  And I have a few blanks of my own regarding the night in question.  By the time we left the hotel, I was in no position to drive.  And we were just getting started.

The game plan was to go to "Moose McGillicutties'", or something like that.  On the way we stopped at Hooters where wings and amber colored refreshments were obliterated.  Being the Chico trooper I was, I refused to leave any of the brew in the cauldron.  We moved on in the way large groups do-disorganized, circumnavigating, and with stops at any number of places to meet the various needs of the group's members.  Three stops along the way.  Three roadside bars visited.  Somehow, in Hawaii they can just put tiki huts with cash registers and abundant booze along the road.  You know, for those drivers who are stressed out by the lazy tempo of Hawaii life.  Then again, we may not have been stopping on roads, because as near as I could tell at that point, we were in a car and then at a bar.  My conclusion is bars on the road, but there could have been some stuff between.

We get to the spot and I'm...compromised.  Not only am I in no shape to drive, but I'd make confetti come out of a breathalizer if I managed to stuff one between my lips.  The door guy gets one look at me and says "you can't come in.  You're too drunk."  Being the clutch performer that I am, I somehow, almost magically look him in the face and say "what are you talking about dude?  I've had like two beers."  Uh, ya, like two forties, two pitchers of beer, and three long islands, and two miller lites back at the hotel.  He says, "Oh, sorry man.  Go ahead."  So I play plinko up the stairs, bouncing off of the walls that are at least six feet apart.

In the club, I order another drink and fall in love.  With a real woman.  She's nice.  I smoothly approached her and said, "shhhzzmbn %3loidfoghu ldkgjah huh?"  And I probably pointed at the door.  Apparently my hard to get routine made her lose interest.  Strike one.  I moved on.  And when I say I moved on, I mean I turned my head a little bit because I wasn't in any rush to move.  This troll thing tried to take advantage of me.  After some licentious bartering, I declined her advances and literally moved on.  Smoothly.  Strike two.

In walks a 'goddess'.  (S)he had a crew too.  How much time passed between her walking in and me talking to it-I'll never know.  It seemed that (s)he came immediately.  She introduced himself.  And wrote it's number down.  The details are starting to blur for me.  After a little banter, I was ushered away by a local.  "Hey bro, I don't know you brah, but I gotta tell you that chick is a man brah".  I was astonished.  And hurt.  I went to the person, and sadly 'Crocodile Dundeed' him.  Inconclusive.  I asked, "Is it true!?"  I have no clue what was said.  And I remember walking in the hallway at the hotel.  And waking up the next day.

The depths that these lady men will sink to.  The deception employed.  You'd think they would at least have the decency to give some kind of clue, right?  I mean, how was I supposed to know that a six foot tall Philipino girl named 'Butterscotch' was a man?  Pfft.  The nerve, right?  I found out two years later from one of the freshman on the trip that I got kicked out of the club for starting a fight with him.  I didn't hurt him or anything.  But it's good to know that I went home alone on bad terms with this predatory ladyman.


David Fernandes Jr. said...

You pine for butterscotch to this day.

Cwatts said...

Indeed I do. How sweet was that picture though?