Last time I visited Pink Punters was on the occasion of the monthly Big Night Out. It was great (http://andrea-wright.blogspot.com/2008/05/sore-feet-but-smiling.html) .
This is a one Friday a month time when lots of transgendered folk get together. The only problem really is its success.
It’s really popular.
The hotel across the road from Pink Punters gets fully booked months in advance. Early evening in the bar is definitely a tad different than the average hotel bar. Fella’s in frocks all over the place.
There are also a couple of Saturdays each month that are advertised as having a transgendered kind of theme. So Laura, Billie and I decided to give it a try on October 4th. Booking the hotel was certainly easier ... no need to book way in advance.
For me, getting organised for such an event is still somewhat bizarre.
Ten thirty a.m. I begin to look for the suitcase.
A whole suitcase for one night. And not a small one.
The phone rings. It’s my eldest daughter. We begin to chat about this and that. Her computer won’t start up ... do I have any ideas? Check the cables. Open it up. Check that nothing seems loose ... I find the suitcase that I’m looking for ... hidden like a Russian doll inside another one. The computer might need looking at by an engineer.
As we talk I begin to look in the wardrobe.
What to wear?
Decisions, decisions.
In the end, the suitcase contains maybe 5 skirts, 5 tops, two bras, a basque, 3 pairs of panties, two pairs of tights, two pairs of stockings, two pairs of hold up stockings, a pair of jeans, a cardigan, a suspender belt ...
Maybe if I go along to Pink Punters often enough I’ll be able to decide exactly what I’ll wear in advance and just take one of everything ... well maybe two ... I mean ... it’s really easy to ruin a nylon stocking.
Then there is all the makeup.
Boobs.
Hair.
Jewellery.
Eleven thirty a.m. Fill the bath and shave. By the time I am dry there is another small sticking plaster on my nipple. I resolve, again, to wield the razor with more care and attention.
Odds and ends of activities follow until about three thirty. At this point I begin to paint my nails pink. This leads to a half hour or so of almost total inactivity. Freshly painted fingernails are not conducive to any kind of activity at all. Even then I have to apply little touch ups a couple of times.
A little after four thirty I’m on the road. I arrive at the hotel a little over an hour later. The receptionist doesn’t seem at all surprised at my pink fingernails.
Room 103.
Undress.
Wash.
Begin to dress.
Suspender belts and nail polish are not mutual friends. The back left suspender always causes me pain. Maybe I should do a survey ... is this a universal thing? Do a lot of ladies feel the same way? Or is it just me? By the time the stockings feel securely fastened my nails are looking a lot less than perfect. And I left the nail polish at home. Ah well. The best laid plans.
The makeup begins to go on.
My phone rings. Laura has arrived.
The hotel accommodation is separate from the reception and you need a pass to get in to the accommodation. Laura doesn’t have a pass, so I need to go and open the door.
This is a moment that makes me smile. I am wearing a basque with suspenders, black stockings, panties and a pair of Chinese boobs. Nothing else.
Mostly made up ... but not completely ... no lipstick at all. No hair. Well ... some hair ... but no wig.
“I’ll be right there ...” I say. Grabbing my jeans and slipping them on. The cardigan is nice and long and covers me pretty well. As I do all this, pictures run through my mind of the looks that might be on people’s faces as I pass them by on the corridor. The nice thing is that the thought of it makes me smile more than it fills me with terror.
I pick up the black wig. Yes ... I brought two ... and put it on. There is a knock at the door. Someone had let Laura in. Rush and panic over.
Laura and Billie travelled en-femme. I reckon I’ll be another fifteen minutes and say I’ll meet them in the restaurant.
I undress again. Lip liner, lipstick, gloss.
Jeans ... why did I take them off?
Blonde hair. Pink top. Necklace, earrings, shoes ... you know the kind of thing.
Then, to the restaurant.
Opening the bedroom door and stepping out into the big wide world of the hotel corridor is still a mixture of fear and thrill. But really, not much fear.
In the restaurant there are just a few people. I sit opposite Laura. Billie has gone to get her glasses so she can read the menu. I take my glasses off so I can read the menu. No one is paying us any attention other than the waitress.
We order some food and drinks. Small talk mostly. We discuss what we’ll be wearing. Billie mentions a pelmet. After a little explanation it seems that this is in reference to a very short leather skirt.
Back to room 103. Laura and I get changed.
Jeans off, short black skirt on.
Pink top replaced by a black t-shirt. It has the word “Pink” embroidered on it
I look in the mirror. My lipstick is feathering out a little through the lip liner. Too many smile lines I guess! In a fit of bravado I get the makeup remover and wipe away the foundation and lipstick from around my mouth. I’ve never attempted a makeup repair job like this before. But it goes ok. Instead of regular lipstick I go for the Maybelline Superstay stuff. More like paint than lipstick. But it stays on and it doesn’t feather. And so long as I remember to apply the gloss kind of stuff that comes with it, it stays shiny as well.
Looking out the window ... it’s raining.
Pink Punters is just a short walk away. But in the rain ... a short walk seems like a long walk. We consider the options. Well ... maybe a taxi. But in the end, the rain is very light so we walk. We take the longer route – avoiding the small ditch between the hotel boundary and pavement.
There’s a small group of people at the door of Pink Punters. It’s just before 9:00 pm. We thought it opened at 8:00. But no. It opens at 9:00. We are kinda glad that we didn’t arrive much earlier.
The door opens. We sign the visitors’ book and head upstairs.
The place is almost totally deserted. We get some drinks and sit down to talk a while. Take a few pictures. We try to figure out if the person that served us the drinks is a guy or a girl. Feminine kind of voice. Masculine kind of clothing. Very short hair. Attractive. Billie thinks a guy. Laura and I think a girl.
This is a one Friday a month time when lots of transgendered folk get together. The only problem really is its success.
It’s really popular.
The hotel across the road from Pink Punters gets fully booked months in advance. Early evening in the bar is definitely a tad different than the average hotel bar. Fella’s in frocks all over the place.
There are also a couple of Saturdays each month that are advertised as having a transgendered kind of theme. So Laura, Billie and I decided to give it a try on October 4th. Booking the hotel was certainly easier ... no need to book way in advance.
For me, getting organised for such an event is still somewhat bizarre.
Ten thirty a.m. I begin to look for the suitcase.
A whole suitcase for one night. And not a small one.
The phone rings. It’s my eldest daughter. We begin to chat about this and that. Her computer won’t start up ... do I have any ideas? Check the cables. Open it up. Check that nothing seems loose ... I find the suitcase that I’m looking for ... hidden like a Russian doll inside another one. The computer might need looking at by an engineer.
As we talk I begin to look in the wardrobe.
What to wear?
Decisions, decisions.
In the end, the suitcase contains maybe 5 skirts, 5 tops, two bras, a basque, 3 pairs of panties, two pairs of tights, two pairs of stockings, two pairs of hold up stockings, a pair of jeans, a cardigan, a suspender belt ...
Maybe if I go along to Pink Punters often enough I’ll be able to decide exactly what I’ll wear in advance and just take one of everything ... well maybe two ... I mean ... it’s really easy to ruin a nylon stocking.
Then there is all the makeup.
Boobs.
Hair.
Jewellery.
Eleven thirty a.m. Fill the bath and shave. By the time I am dry there is another small sticking plaster on my nipple. I resolve, again, to wield the razor with more care and attention.
Odds and ends of activities follow until about three thirty. At this point I begin to paint my nails pink. This leads to a half hour or so of almost total inactivity. Freshly painted fingernails are not conducive to any kind of activity at all. Even then I have to apply little touch ups a couple of times.
A little after four thirty I’m on the road. I arrive at the hotel a little over an hour later. The receptionist doesn’t seem at all surprised at my pink fingernails.
Room 103.
Undress.
Wash.
Begin to dress.
Suspender belts and nail polish are not mutual friends. The back left suspender always causes me pain. Maybe I should do a survey ... is this a universal thing? Do a lot of ladies feel the same way? Or is it just me? By the time the stockings feel securely fastened my nails are looking a lot less than perfect. And I left the nail polish at home. Ah well. The best laid plans.
The makeup begins to go on.
My phone rings. Laura has arrived.
The hotel accommodation is separate from the reception and you need a pass to get in to the accommodation. Laura doesn’t have a pass, so I need to go and open the door.
This is a moment that makes me smile. I am wearing a basque with suspenders, black stockings, panties and a pair of Chinese boobs. Nothing else.
Mostly made up ... but not completely ... no lipstick at all. No hair. Well ... some hair ... but no wig.
“I’ll be right there ...” I say. Grabbing my jeans and slipping them on. The cardigan is nice and long and covers me pretty well. As I do all this, pictures run through my mind of the looks that might be on people’s faces as I pass them by on the corridor. The nice thing is that the thought of it makes me smile more than it fills me with terror.
I pick up the black wig. Yes ... I brought two ... and put it on. There is a knock at the door. Someone had let Laura in. Rush and panic over.
Laura and Billie travelled en-femme. I reckon I’ll be another fifteen minutes and say I’ll meet them in the restaurant.
I undress again. Lip liner, lipstick, gloss.
Jeans ... why did I take them off?
Blonde hair. Pink top. Necklace, earrings, shoes ... you know the kind of thing.
Then, to the restaurant.
Opening the bedroom door and stepping out into the big wide world of the hotel corridor is still a mixture of fear and thrill. But really, not much fear.
In the restaurant there are just a few people. I sit opposite Laura. Billie has gone to get her glasses so she can read the menu. I take my glasses off so I can read the menu. No one is paying us any attention other than the waitress.
We order some food and drinks. Small talk mostly. We discuss what we’ll be wearing. Billie mentions a pelmet. After a little explanation it seems that this is in reference to a very short leather skirt.
Back to room 103. Laura and I get changed.
Jeans off, short black skirt on.
Pink top replaced by a black t-shirt. It has the word “Pink” embroidered on it
I look in the mirror. My lipstick is feathering out a little through the lip liner. Too many smile lines I guess! In a fit of bravado I get the makeup remover and wipe away the foundation and lipstick from around my mouth. I’ve never attempted a makeup repair job like this before. But it goes ok. Instead of regular lipstick I go for the Maybelline Superstay stuff. More like paint than lipstick. But it stays on and it doesn’t feather. And so long as I remember to apply the gloss kind of stuff that comes with it, it stays shiny as well.
Looking out the window ... it’s raining.
Pink Punters is just a short walk away. But in the rain ... a short walk seems like a long walk. We consider the options. Well ... maybe a taxi. But in the end, the rain is very light so we walk. We take the longer route – avoiding the small ditch between the hotel boundary and pavement.
There’s a small group of people at the door of Pink Punters. It’s just before 9:00 pm. We thought it opened at 8:00. But no. It opens at 9:00. We are kinda glad that we didn’t arrive much earlier.
The door opens. We sign the visitors’ book and head upstairs.
The place is almost totally deserted. We get some drinks and sit down to talk a while. Take a few pictures. We try to figure out if the person that served us the drinks is a guy or a girl. Feminine kind of voice. Masculine kind of clothing. Very short hair. Attractive. Billie thinks a guy. Laura and I think a girl.
Laura and Billie ...
Me ...
Me and Laura ...
Me and Billie ...
A tgirl and partner arrive and order some drinks. Not sure if the partner is a tgirl or a real girl. Well, at least I’m not sure ... I guess that they are pretty sure, though.
As the evening passes we spend a while dancing. The Andrea part of me is a lot less self conscious about bopping around on a dance floor than the masculine part of me. Having said that, this is slowly beginning to seep through. My wife is discovering that I’m actually beginning to be willing to get up and dance a little when we get a chance to.
The place is beginning to get crowded. Not many tgirls, but that doesn’t bother me really. It’s nice to be out and about. My dancing skills still have a fair way to go ... but the lessons I had last time I was at Pink Punters have helped.
There are TV (television) screens all over the place playing videos of the music. It’s pretty much all new kind of stuff ... which to my aged ears sounds somewhat monotonous at times. I’m a seventies child. It means I don’t remember many of the songs. I didn’t know there was a new version of “Do Wah Diddy” floating around.
One of the few songs that were played that I have distinctive memories of is “I Kissed a Girl and I Liked It”. Laura had been expecting it to be played. I’d never heard it before, but it’s been going through my mind off and on for the past few days now. I just did a Google search for the lyrics. And amongst other things discovered this:
KATY PERRY’S SONG USED AS CHURCH WARNING TO TEENS
BLACKLICK, Ohio (AP) — A church near Columbus, Ohio, is using Katy Perry as a bad example. A sign outside Havens Corners Church in Blacklick has the lyrics from her song, “I kissed a girl and I liked it” — but it adds, “Then I went to hell.” Church pastor Reverend Dave Allison says the Bible is clear that homosexuality is a sin, so the sign is intended as a loving warning to teens. He says it’s confused some people who either don’t know the song or don’t understand the message. Lynne Bowman of the gay rights group Equality Ohio says the sign indicates the church isn’t very accepting. Perry has not responded to calls for comment.
Ah well ... I wonder how that squares for heterosexual tgirls?
We chat and sip at the drinks. Dance a bit more.
There is a guy that seems to fancy Laura a lot. But Laura just smiles politely and refuses the offer of a drink.
A guy sits beside us and begins to chat. His name is Graham. He says he’s an open minded kind of guy. Is looking for a relationship with someone he can communicate with well. We make it clear that we aren’t looking for relationships. But he buys us all a drink and doesn’t pester us.
Laura heads to the bar for the drinks ... and begins to chat with Anna.
Sonya (with a Y – not an I or a J) introduces herself. And her sister Michelle ... and other sister Nicola. Really nice girls.
“I’m drunk” smiles Sonya ... “so I’m just drinking water from now on.” In fact, she doesn’t seem so drunk at all.
Sonya ... fine tuniung a suspender ... not mine ... think pelmets!
Nicola, Michelle, me, Billie ...
“I’m driving.” says Michelle. So she isn’t even vaguely drunk.
They have to go soon ... it’s maybe 1:00 am now.
Sonya wants to stay a while and dance, but Michelle has to get some sleep and wake up again soon.
We go downstairs, abandoning the relative peace and quiet of the bar for the hustle and bustle of the dance floor. I’m still amazed that I can dance with 4.5 inch stiletto heels better than I do in flat shoes.
The three sisters have a rule. They go out together and they go home together. But Sonya wants to dance. Michelle and Nicky need to go. “You should stick to the rule” I tell Michelle. But Sonya says she’ll be fine and will get a taxi.
“I need to go to the loo” she says. “Come with me.” She takes my hand and guides me through the crowd. Down the stairs to the basement bar ... heavy, deep music ... and loos.
Guys find it kind of amusing that girls always seem to visit the “ladies” in pairs. No one ever seems to go alone.
This is, though, an experience I am new to when it comes to participation.
I’ve never entered a ladies loo hand in hand with anyone before. Actually, I’ve never entered a gents loo hand in hand with anyone either.
The whole experience makes me smile.
Sonya spends a while finding a cubicle that has a lock that actually fastens, then waves and says “wait for me, please”. I stand by the washbasins watching girls touching up their makeup and wait. In some outlandish kind of way it seems the most natural thing in the world for a girl to do.
We head back to the quiet bar and talk for a while with a few other people.
Some of the things I remember popping into the conversation.
“Other nightclubs round about are a bit like meat markets ... ”.
“Here you can talk or dance with a guy or a tgirl and not feel that all they want is to get into your panties.”
We talk about all kinds of stuff ... tgirls, families, kids, work ... life.
There are two tgirls at the bar that I know.
“Are they an item?”
“No ... not really.”
“FB’s?”
“FB’s?”
“F*** buddies.”
“Ahh ... well ... maybe.”
“You as well?”
“Nooooooo!”
Sonya is unusual in that she knows what .NET and C’# are.
She sees people as people ... even if they are tgirls.
A text message from Michelle ... checking that all is ok. Sonya gets asked to send a text when in the taxi and another one when at home. She sends a reply and says “Andie says hi”.
We compare fingernails. Hers look great ... and they aren’t false ... but they were done by a manicurist. When I discover how much it costs I decide that until I can keep them that way for day after day after day I’ll have to live with the nail polish.
Another dance. Sonya introduces me to Jamie the DJ. Then it’s time for the taxi. A goodbye kiss and a hug.
Back upstairs I join Laura who is chatting with Anna and Heather.
The person behind the bar is a guy ... Heather and Anna ask ... and he’s happy to tell.
Anna is a little unsteady on her feet.
“Hi darling ... what’s your name?”
“Andrea.”
“Hi Andrea.”
...
“Hi darling ... what’s your name?”
“Andrea.”
“Hi Andrea.”
...
“Hi darling ... what’s your name?”
“Andrea.”
“Hi Andrea.”
It’s a little like a time loop. I know. I watch too much Start Trek and Red Dwarf.
In amongst the loop we talk about other things as well. The cyclic nature of the conversation makes me smile.
In the background Katy Perry is kissing a girl again.
Then there is a competition ... the schnapps glasses get filled ... but not with schnapps. I opt out and giggle a little as Laura gets talked into joining in.
Heather and Anna drink theirs in one. Laura is not so successful. Heather finishes it off for her. Not an easy task though ... it seems Heather was expecting it to be banana flavoured but it turned out to be aniseed!
Heather talks. Everyday things that matter to her. Her mum passed away just over a year ago and there’s a lot of sadness in the memory still. A hug comes naturally.
She smiles at the irony of the fact that all the girls in view are wearing trousers. All the guys are wearing dresses.
It’s 5:00 am!
Anna manages to walk down the many steps without incident.
Outside there is a line of taxis. We say g’bye and head back for the hotel. It’s not raining so we take the long route and avoid the ditch again.
Another tgirl hardship is that even though it’s 5:00 am, sleep is still a fair way away. Makeup removal takes quite a while.
10:30 am and time to go. As we leave Laura happens to glance up and sees the smoke alarm in room 103. "Someone must have really needed a smoke" she says. And there you see it ... condoms seem to stop all kinds of things.
Overall, I loved it. The evening had started very quietly, but it livened up and there was a chance to dance a while and to meet some really nice people. And some first time experiences as well.
I hope to pop along again in the not so distant future.
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