of Astor W. Heinemann
Today, while walking by Dean & Daluca (the big one around Broadway, not The Village), a tranny found yours truly staring back at him. He yelled at me "da fuck ya looking' at?!?", in a ubiquitous NY accent.
I stopped short, walked back to him and said, in a calm, soothing tone, as one who was lullabying a baby to sleep "honey, you're just so beautiful, I couldn't help but try and steal a second look".
The man hesitated for an eternal second, as if sizing me up, gathering all his remaining wits, deciding whether I was a buddying freak or a very smart con man.
His expression changed back to hostile as quick as it had done to inquisitive and he yelled back, in a slightly more masculine voice "fuck you!!", as his spit moisturized my frost bitten face.
I walked away with a solemn, proud grin on my face and a slightly more uppity dance to my step, as if singing out loud "mission accomplished!", while I used my scarf to wipe my face dry.
Ende.
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