At last, a return to blogging...

Okay so it's been quite a while since I have blogged and I have a lot of ground to cover so let's get started.

First things first; Where am I, How am I and the such.

I am currently in Indianapolis, yes kiddies, my hometown. In fact I am staying at my mothers house in Greenwood, a suburb of Indy. I have been here about two weeks now after spending my first AK (After Katrina) week in Baton Rouge. I am doing well, working in a Scottish restaurant downtown and trying to put together a plan for the next few months...

Though there is much to say and there will probably be several posts describing the last few weeks, I owe a story and to my faithful readers I must submit. This is the story of one of my last nights in New Orleans, Friday the 26th. It is entitled "The Tranny Fight"

I was working in fifth station that night, an area of the bar next to my usual post but one that comes with the added bonus of being the first bartender to leave. By about 2:30 I was done with work and headed out. The news was forecasting the usual pre-hurricane doomsday report and most of New Orleans was pooh-poohing the cry wolf routine, including myself. I was tired and didn't want to stick around the bar so I headed homeward. Along the way I stopped at Good Friends for a nightcap and to say hello to Blake. Upstairs was closed but as I usually did, I skipped under the rope and went up anyway. Eric the barback was flitting around finishing off his restocking and Blake was sitting at the bar smoking a cigarette. We went outside on the balcony to sit and talk for a few when all the fun began.

There was the usual group of tranny hookers on the corner but I must admit I had never seen so many of them together before. Perhaps they remembered the advice of our own Mayor Nagin from hurricane Ivan last year and were making some last minute Benjamins before heading out of town. Who knows, anyway, there must have been about ten of them. Two of the "ladies" were having some sort of squabble but I didn't pay much attention at first. It was your standard "oh no you didn't" "Yeah bitch you know I'm talking to you" kind of thing, hardly worth paying attention to unless a fight appears imminent. Soon enough it got more heated and now they were pushing on each other, one sounding reasonable in saying to her friend "You're fucked up right now, I'll talk to you tomorrow when you're sober" Most of you probably just said to yourselves "Sober, tomorrow? huh?" which was just how I felt...I thought "this bitch ain't gonna be sober for a long time" but I digress. Now they have each others arms in their hands, sort of a Vishnu scene with arms and legs going in all directions...and this went on for about five minutes. Blake and I were getting bored and were ready to go back inside when all hell broke loose. The "fucked up" girl hauled off and slugged her more responsible friend and the fight was ON! A weave came off almost immediately as the two 'ladies' struggled with each other up against the side of the Moon Wok restaurant and then across the street into a house. By now a shirt has come off and nobody but nobody is wearing a shoe. Given the angle I was at it was hard to tell who was winning, especially with the glare from the headlights of the cars on St. Ann street. The fight had moved into the middle of the street and what can only be described as a wrong place wrong time moment, a taxi has come to a stop what with two half dressed hermaphrodite looking creatures tearing and kicking and punching and biting each other in the street in front of you. It really took a turn for the worse when the fucked up girl (and I'm guessing from her demeanor we were talking crystal meth here) threw her friend onto the hood of the taxi, down onto the street and then proceeded to basically beat her down.

Fucked up Tranny # 1 (let's just call her 'FT1') jumped up, triumphant in her success of stomping Responsible Tranny # 2 (let's call her 'the loser'). FT1 is walking away, searching for her white flip flops and crowing about her success; "I showed that bitch, she don't need to be fucking with me" when out of nowhere (cue Rocky Music) comes the loser, back for more. This is when we introduce our new character; The Pimp. He's wearing low slung jeans of course and an extremely long white t-shirt. Why is that the official outfit of street thugs? I ask this knowing of course that circuit fags have only two outfits, khaki shorts and a wife beater or khaki pants and a black tight shirt. When I see street thugs in their long shirts all I can think is that it looks like a dress...Anyway, Pimp tries to intervene and manages to get the loser out of the situation. FT1, feeling her oats from trouncing the loser, starts punching and kicking the pimp. He quickly overpowered her though and got her down on the ground (in front of yet another car) and started beating the shit out of her. All I could see was his fist rising and falling like OJ with a swiss army knife as he pounded on her...and then I heard the scream, his scream, because the tranny maced him! He jumped up and ran off towards the bar with one hand holding up his pants which of course were falling off while trying desperately to wipe his burning eyes with the other hand. The collar of his tea length white shirt had been stretched down to his navel, perfect for that plunging neckline look, but bad on hanes cotton. The loser had limped down to the next block and the pimp had run looking for water. FT1 and her posse re-took the steps where it all started. Traffic resumed, cruising continued and possessions were reclaimed. One lone weave was left in the road, run over by a series of cars. I wanted to run down and grab it, sealed in plastic it would be like the ABBA turd from "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert" but Blake convinced me that if the girls would mace their pimp they would probably kill a little white boy like me. Just when it seemed the show was over, a black trans-am pulled up and called over our winner for the evening. FT1 walked up, spoke to the driver and as she opened the passenger door to get in she said to the other ladies "and now I'm leaving in style..."