Patrick teased us earlier this week with promises of his story about the Gordito-Eating Trannies. Jocelyn and Gladys begged him to post it. He finally did. And of course it deserves a full posting, not just at the bottom of "Crazy Commuting Tales."
This is the tale of Ms Macramé and Ms Demure.
First, let me say that I love, no LOVE, the Transit Theater. I credit this to my late mother, a 1960’s cocktail drinkin’, Chesterfield smokin’ minister’s daughter who often took me, as a child, to hang out at the international terminal at O’Hare just to go “people watching”. At age 6 I was already fascinated by the seemingly endless visual smorgasbord of the human race.
Earlier this summer on a late Friday afternoon in mid-June, I left work a bit early. I was tired, it had been a long week and I just didn’t want to deal with the rush hour crowd in the loop. Mornings I usually take the Brown Line to downtown because I enjoy the morning light but at night I just want to get home as soon as possible so I always grab a north bound Red Line at Monroe. This Friday was like most; the car was full but not packed and it was very quiet. At the Lake St stop it all changed.
A few people got on including two remarkable young black women who grabbed everyone’s attention. They were young, tall and even taller in their summer heels. Big hair and breasts really added to the eye-popping vision. The shorter quieter one (whom I shall now and forever call Ms Demure) was a vision but the tall one? Absolutely stunning!