It's around midnight. I've flown for seven hours, landed, and refuelled from a self-serve pump that is fussy about how you insert the credit card (If you want to know: put it in and out of the reader really fast, while twisting it slightly to the left). The battery clip came out of my headset and I couldn't find it in the cockpit, so I'm a bit annoyed about that. I hope it shows up tomorrow in daylight. I'm still wearing the baseball cap I had on to keep the sun out of my eyes, even though it set a couple of hours ago.
I walk into the hotel carrying my flight bag plus a tub of company paperwork, including a printer. I loathe that printer. There are a couple of people dressed for a party, partly blocking the hall, and as I have a wide load, instead of barging through, I pause to let them move out of the way.
One of them says, "Bro, where are you going with that?"
I think I said my room number, which of course you're not supposed to do in hotels, but as if they weren't going to see which room I went into anyway. I'm not sure what his response was, but his companion advises him, "I think that's a girl."
I realize belatedly that "bro" is not normally a unisex form of address. I was totally willing to accept it as such, and not as a slur against my femininity. Inside the hotel room I look in the mirror. I look like a girl to me. Got boobs and everything. I'm even wearing a ladies cut t-shirt that is tighter than I would have chosen myself, but I took someone else's advice on the correct size because fashion is not my forté.
I think it was a combination of my utilitarian clothing, the tired 'don't mess with me' expression, and the fact that he was drunk.
11 comments:
If I had to guess, I would say that the alcohol was the biggest factor. I know that when I have made my most idiotic statements it was. I wouldn't lose too much sleep over this one. Thanks for the posts, glad to hear about your flying.
Dude! That's so funny!
Oh. That's funny! Reminds me of Sulako's description of you from way back when. I'd have to look too hard for it at this point, but that was a good laugh also.
You're a peach.
Thanks!
Bob
Yeah. LMAO
You see, I have a brother. And we look exactly the same. And growing up I had (and still have short hair...) So people would see me walk past, and shout, "Hey Craig!", and they would get the finger for their trouble, and realize they had in faced messed with the wrong person...heh.
Oh, and this fat woman with a mustache asked me "I dont' mean to be rude...but are you male or female".. To which I responded..."yes, you ARE rude, and no, it's none of your business. Also, your mustachio'ed upper lip has me wondering the same thing...ass."
hehehe, Dude. :)
A picture is worth a thousand words... ;-)
Maybe you're travelling in the Land Where Men Have Boobs.
Almost as funny as when I am standing at the urinal in a bar's bathroom with my back to the door. I generally hear the door open, and then the scurrying of a drunk guy who think he walked into the ladies room, then can't figure out why the "lady" is using the urinal, then realizes that it's just me tall, thin, long hair, beard and a mustache.
Makes me laugh everytime. Of course to myself, no need to encourage the drunks to act out.
The verification word is "hydaster"; what happens when a glider pilots external male catheter blows off due to overpressure.
hydaster... funny.
Now that would be an interesting blogging game. Post your verification word and make up a definition for it:
As in:
"inette" - ahhhh, mmmm.... iNette? nope... nuthin'
okay - forget that idea.
The dude's not yet seen a bro with long green hair, ya betcha.
driving with my 5 year old son we came upon a person walking the same direction. this person was carrying an umbrella to block the sun and was wearing some tight "daisy dukes". i didn't say anything, as my wife would have thumped my noggin. as we passed the person with a quick glance over i saw a dude with a full beard. from the back seat my son said " HEY! THAT is no GIRL!!!" just goes to show ya, better look twice!
LT
Hah! That happens to me all the time. It's a combination of short haircut, small boobs, very casual clothing, zero make-up, and, sometimes, a somewhat grumpy facial expression (social norms seem to imply that females must be smiling all the time). I've had kids point at me and ask their parents if I'm male or female. I had university professors and grocery store clerks call me "Sir". It's kind of amuzing. What bothers me the most is that if they think I'm male, they must also think that I am a teenager, since I've no facial hair and am rather lightly built for a male. And I don't particularly want to be treated like a teenager.
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