SSONet.com – Maxi Shield
This week?s topic is something a lot of us showgirls have to deal with all the time, and for those who live in the inner city it is usually once or twice a day.
As someone who has caught a taxi to and from work for the last 10 years, the stories I could release as Taxicab Confessions From The Eyes Of A Drag Queen would blow your comb-over all the way to your shoulder. Some of them are for this paper; others I would fill you in on if I was a bit boozy at the bar one night.
One that sticks in my mind happened one Mardi Gras when I had been working hard all month. I had arrived at the party having just finished work after many hours as a lady.
Deciding to stay as a lady for the entirety of the party, I didn?t bring a change of man clothes or make-up remover. (Yes, I am a man underneath. Crazy, hey?)
In order to catch up to everyone else, I decided to have all my entertainment at once and started to bop around. All of a sudden it just got too much and I knew I had to make a mad dash home to get changed.
Collecting my things and my thoughts, I jumped into the nearest cab and urged the driver on. I was met with a very heavy Indian accent: ?Good evening, you have nice titties.?
?Well thank you, sir,? was all I could muster in my jitterbug state. Fanning and bopping in the seat beside him, I caught him out of the corner of my eyes, staring at my ample bosoms.
Still in a daze I thought nothing of it till he drove straight up the arse of the car in front of us. Yes, he rear-ended the car right there at the stop lights, all while I was having my own private little Mardi Gras party in my head.