#719: Dressing up in women's clothing and hangin' round in bars

My best Halloween ever happened a long time ago, around 1994 in Rawlins, Wyoming -- very much a "Wild West" sort of town.
My family was visiting my then-wife Cyndi's best friend Deb, a former newspaper co-worker of mine ... and between the two of them, the two women I trusted and loved most in the whole world, they hatched a plan for me to compete in a Halloween costume contest at the bar where Deb worked.
Cyndi dressed up as an Old West schoolmarm -- not far from what she was in Real Life. Deb went as a bar floozie -- again, not far from what she was in Real Life.
When they were done putting themselves together, they turned to me. And you could almost see the lightbulbs go on over their heads simultaneously. They whispered between themselves briefly.
I thought I was going to stay home, or at most be their Designated Driver. I was wrong.
"Do you trust me?" Deb asked. Of course I did.
"How do you feel about dressing up as a woman?" Cyndi asked.
I took a deep breath. I could use a good laugh. Work had been a non-stop stress-a-thon, and I could use a good hilarious Night Out With The Girls.
"If we're gonna do this," I said, "let's go all the way out. Let's not hold back. Let's make it something we can look back on and laugh our asses off about."
Suddenly I was Into It. I went to Deb's closet. There I found a garish purple number cut off above the knee, with some thin spaghetti straps to hold it up. Deb pulled out a wild brunette wig with hair splaying out everywhere.
They started laughing. Nobody would believe it. Nobody would be able to take it seriously. It was perfect.
I was gonna be a white, flat-chested Tina Turner.
They started working on my lips and my eyes. Deb slathered on the purple eye-shadow. They lined my eyes in thick black and put on mascara to enhance my eyelashes. All that stuff's a pain in the ass. They gave me the reddest lipstick Deb could find.
They gave me two handfuls of Kleenex for my fake "boobs" -- I had to have them to hold up the front of the dress.
They slapped on the wig, and teased it up and out even more.
When they were done, I looked in the mirror. And I couldn't stop laughing. I was gonna win that damn contest just from comedy effect.
When I was done, my kids looked me over.
"Dad, you look ... funny," said my then-8-year-old son Andy. But he wasn't laughing. I'll bet my then-6-year-old daughter Alicia was even more confused.
We headed for the bar. When we got there the place was packed and rowdy. Deb got us a table, and the ladies started doing tequila shots and other stuff that's beyond my experience. Good thing I was driving.
I settled in, and except for constantly having to pull up the front of my dress, I started getting fairly comfortable.
Until I started attracting ... admirers....
A rugged cowboy type, probably in his mid-30s, sat down at the table right next to me. He was hammered.
"Wow ... you're really something," he slurred.
"Thanks," I said in my normal voice.
Then he started buying me drinks.
I turned to my wife the schoolmarm, who was sitting on my other side -- for protection if nothing else.
"Do you think this guy realizes I'm not a woman?" I asked her.
She gave the cowboy a long look-over.
"If I were you, I'd go for it," she said.
After the contest was judged, we somehow got out of the bar alive -- and to push the ante even higher, we headed for a nearby Truck Stop for breakfast.
I learned some interesting things while climbing in and out of the car on the way there. Like how women in skirts climb in and out of vehicles without showing off all the goods. It ain't easy!
And I had to keep ... readjusting my "boobs" because they kept trying to fall down to my stomach ... which I hear can happen as you get older....
We pulled up a table at the Truck Stop and ordered breakfast. The Truck Stop staff seemed to take it all in stride -- it was Halloween, after all. But halfway through the meal, the Ultimate Challenge appeared.
I was gonna have to head for the restroom. This was a disaster waiting to happen.
So I walked through the Truck Stop, massive hair, slumping boobs and all, and turned the corner to head for the Men's.
From the bar, one of the truckers called out: "Hey, are you sure you've got the right room?"
In my deepest, most manly voice, I said: "Oh. Yeah, right. Thanks."
And kept on going. Faster.
Somehow got out of there without getting the crap kicked out of me. And when we got home we laughed about it a lot. When I looked in the mirror at the end of the night, I didn't look half as "good" as I had earlier. But I was still laughing.
Oh, the contest? Well, I placed sixth. My wife, who's schoolmarm-in-cowboy-boots costume took absolutely no fashion risks whatsoever, placed fifth. And the floozie placed third. Sometimes it's best to go for the obvious.
When I got back to work, I wrote about the experience in a weekly column I did for the newspaper. Nobody knew quite what to make of THAT, either -- whether they should laugh ... or what. And I thought that was pretty funny too....

#593: An obituary

This is an obituary 4 an old friend of mine, my best friend, Don Vincent. Punch his name in2 that "search this site" search-engine up there on the left & you'll find I've written a lot about him here, back when I was doing lotsa nostalgia pieces. There's at least 10 posts he's mentioned in, not even including the 1/2-dozen installments of that abandoned rock&roll novel I tried serializing here -- in which he was disguised as "Don."
My old buddy, 1 of the 2 or 3 closest friends I've ever had, died on Sept. 5. Apparently he had a heart attack early that morning & his body was discovered by his son later in the day. Don was just a month short of his 54th birthday.
I just learned about his death tonight, thanx 2 the Internet. Don & I used 2 joke that we both drank WAY too much coffee, but I sure never saw this coming.
I've gone on at great length here before about how Don & I became friends partly thanx 2 Strange Music -- about how back in the days of cheap bargain-bin vinyl he would take the wildest chances on the weirdest stuff & always get something listenable out of it. He was the only other "serious" writer I knew back in the day, & he always pushed me 2 write more, work harder, not get lazy, keep pushing my imagination.
He wrote some great visionary short stories that I thot were far better than anything I'd ever do -- & some of them got published, tho I'm not sure how many. Seems like they always got printed in tiny magazines where basically nobody ever saw them. I knew, & told him many times, that he was a way better writer than me, that he had a way wilder, more visionary imagination.
He wanted 2 write fantasy novels. Back in the dead days of the late '70s & early '80s, long before the LORD OF THE RINGS movies or TV series like GAME OF THRONES, Don had plans 2 write a 7-volume fantasy epic called RAINBOW -- each book cover in the series would be a diffrent color. He drew up his own map 4 it -- always the 1st thing you do when you're dealing with imaginary lands. I know he got the books started, tho I don't know how far he went. I DO know that the images from some of his short stories would have made 4 some great, vivid fantasy illustrations.
He also wrote at least a 1st draft of a novel about a hit-man who gets hired 2 assassinate God -- a story idea actually used somewhat later in a novel: Victor Koman's THE JEHOVAH CONTRACT. Don always had great ideas....
We didn't always see eye to eye, Ghod knows. I thot most fantasy was pointless & badly written. Don could be sarcastic & had no problem saying when he thot I was full of shit -- as he did then.
But we went our own ways & stayed friends. I went off 2 the Air Force & newspapers, Don stayed in Idaho & wrote his fantasy epics at home when he wasn't too tired from his "real job."
At least through 1998, we still talked on the phone at least 1nce a month. After that, I don't know what happened. I moved 2 Washington & got sucked in2 the Worst Newspaper Job Ever, then retired. I remember getting an e-mail when Don joined Facebook, & responded that he didn't strike me as the type who'd wanna B ON Facebook -- Don could B very reclusive. He was even worse than me. But he sent me a follow-up message assuring me that, yes, it really was him....
When I went back home in 2008 when my mother died, I rang Don's phone off the hook trying 2 get him 2 come 2 the funeral, or at least see me. He never answered. I left messages and he never called back. Our good old friend Jeff Mann -- who shared an apartment with us back in the day & who's also been mentioned here a few dozen times -- said that Don had been getting even more reclusive over the past few years.
I sent him letters, I sent him e-mails, I called him -- no response. I sat in front of a computer at 2 am in a freezing bedroom, crying while I wrote an e-mail pleading with him 2 get in touch with me. & then I laffed when I thot of what Don might've said if he'd been there 2 see me. He would not have let me off the hook 4 getting so mushy.
I just wanted my old friend back.
When I was back home in 2010, I tried again 2 reach Don. His phone had been disconnected. On the last nite of my visit, some friends of mine tried 2 reach Don thru Facebook. But he'd taken his page down. It was like he didn't WANT 2 B reached. Like he WANTED to disappear.
I should have gone out 2 his house in Nampa right then & dragged his lazy ass out in2 the daylight. I don't know why I didn't. I don't know what I was thinking. It was my last day there. I didn't want to scare him or barge in unexpected. I didn't wanna cause more damage. & maybe I was sorta scared of what I might find.
& now this.
I was just thinking about him last week, wondering what happened, how he slipped away, thinking we'd always have time 2 figure it out. & when I tried 2 track him down 2nite, I learned that he'd died.
I'm not mad at you for disappearing anymore, Don. I just want my old friend back.