In Walks Jackie

[Make sure to read "The Introduction to Lou" first as this is a continuation of that post.]

I look over Lou's shoulder and do my best to not stare as she walks through the golden doors and into the bar. She looks once to the right, once to the left and proceeds forward down the small aisle between the bar and the tables. She's walking towards our table and I again feel the need for disconnect, just in case she happens to look my way. So I look off to the right, towards the barkeep and do my best to hide behind a little wisp of hair coming off the left side of my head.

For some reason, I have yet to get comfortable with talking to people. I guess I'm coming to understand a small, dark corner of the American female experience as I always seem to feel this judging eye everytime I walk into a room and notice the double takes. The double takes from guys are seemingly easier to handle as, at least to me, I feel like I can understand what they are actually thinking. What's harder from the guys are the comments. They are more likely to let loose an interesting "complimentary" quip given half a chance (and if they're an asshole). But women are a bit different. I almost get this feeling like I'm walking on some hallowed ground; like a New York Yankee on Fenway Park turf. A feeling like it's just someplace where I'm not supposed to be. I swear you can feel the mental dissection from head to toe. So when you decide to wear a tight pencil skirt, fitted blouse and stilettos with "smoky eye" makeup here in Austin, you can almost guarantee that the looks will be coming as most of the girls will just be "natural," something I feel I can't do as part-timer.

So this striking woman walks by our table. Ha-ha! I successfully hid myself from her view and I chalk up, to me, a small victory in my steadfastly lopsided war of self-conciousness. Lou reaches out and grabs the blonde's baby blue sweater at the elbow and now my stomach, which was slowly untying thanks to the alcohol finally kicking in, starts contracting again.

"Erin and Gwnn, this is Jackie. I call her Jack-qua."

I do my best to look her in the eyes while saying hello and I mumble my way through a standard greeting ("Umm, eem gwnn. Nis to meet ooo"). What makes it even harder is that I can feel my lipstick has worn off and I didn't have a chance to brush my hair since going out into the Texas gale to pursue the first part of my Alcohol Odyssey (mentioned in my first post). The reason I was in such sorry shape was that before I was sent to get the Golden Duckets from the Land of ATM, I had to run the gauntlet of the Cis to use the facilities.

Now, I bet some of you wonder what we do if we need to go while we're out. Well, we use the women's bathroom if there is no gender-neutral option. This is perfectly legal in Quirksville and most women I've run into while using the facilities don't mind. But trust me, I don't hang around in there fussing with reapplying makeup or fixing my hair. Generally, what I do is start watching the traffic going to the facilities to judge any pattern of usage. Granted, this is a totally random thing but it does follow patterns. I used to work in retail and we use to comment on a condition we used to call the "Sheep Effect." Basically, people would stagger into the store over the course of an hour or so but none of them would ever purchase anything when there was no wait at the checkout. Then, magically, some critical level gets reached and the first customer takes their purchase to the register. Then the next person comes up before the first customer is completed. Then the third customer stands in line quickly followed by everyone else in the store until there are only 1 or 2 people not in line. We figured that people actually wanted to stand in line. Maybe just so they would have something to complain about. Who knows?

So before the expedition to the ATM, I had to use the facilities. I saw what I thought was a lull in the traffic and made my way there. This bathroom was unusually small for such a large restaurant having only 2 stalls available. Luckily, I timed it right and the facilities were clear. But on the way out, I didn't hang around to touch-up so I paid for that decision by having dry-feeling lips and flatish, unkempt hair distracting me from fully articulating my consonants to Jackie and Lou. A severe blow to my already low level of girl confidence.

Now, for me, one of the worst social conditions existed at that table. I was sitting next to Erin on my left who had Lou on her left, which left the only open seat at the table to my right. Argh! Right smack there next to me and I have nowhere to hide or landmarks to stare at. Worse yet, I'll have to converse. My usual personna, Bubba, has all kinds of security issues when talking to attractive women so it isn't hard to imagine that if you throw on non-Bubba attire, Gwnn's going to have problems talking to just about everybody.