I was getting off my bike. It was late and I was downtown visiting a friend. 5 leggy miniskirts and bustiers march up to me as I’m removing my helmet and ask if they could take a picture of their friend on the motorcycle. Hesitatingly, I agreed, since I’m a man conscious of photography and appreciate those who are creative, of course. The one who draped herself across the seat was incredibly good-looking and it wasn’t until about 30 seconds into this situation when I realized that he was not a woman. Maybe it was dark and I might have not had all my wits about me, but he was the most convincing tranny I’d ever seen. Then I realized that they were all transvestites. With them clamoring over the bike and posing like dirty calendar girls, cell phones flashing away, I stood back and also realized that they were all under 21. I laughed, shook my head, laughed again, grasping the fact that timing is everything and perception really is anything you want it to be.
Except when it comes to a gang of underage drag queens.