Last night I decided to drive to Ceasar Chavez High School to hear Hillary speak.The high school is only a 12 mile straight shot west from my house, but with the rally traffic it took more than an hour to get there. Finally fed up with yet another hour of my life wasted behind the wheel, I pulled over and decided to walk the rest of the way. I could see the high school football stadium lights; I guessed I was within a mile.
This high school sits in an odd area of Phoenix. Plopped at the northern base of South Mountain, nearby flower fields and farms were recently razed and giant stucco monstrosities were planted in their place. This new suburbia crashes into the pre-existing rough neighborhood once you cross Central Ave. Then, oddly enough, the high school is surrounded by large dairy farms that have fought back developers and keep on a planting in the midst of a sprawling city.
As I got out of my car to walk toward the rally, a man parked his car at the same time and got my attention.
“You going to hear Hillary speak?”
“Yes,” I replied, noticing the full moon was the only light on an otherwise dark side street. The dairies’ thick earthy perfume clung to the night air and I tried not to look at the graffiti surrounding me. “Do you want to walk together?” I asked a bit more meekly, thinking even walking with a total stranger would be safer. “It would probably be a better move.”
By now “Charlie” was out of his car. Dressed in a red, white and blue tracksuit, he looked me up one side and down the other and said, “Honey, I’d be fine out here. But someone’d want a piece of you.”
As we walked, Charlie told me about how he didn’t care for Obama, even though as a black man he thought he should. He also told me how he was a Bush supporter and he was just attending the rally for the historical context. I started to argue with him, but caught my breath when we walked under a street light and I realized Charlie was wearing lipstick. Bright pink lipstick. I hadn’t seen his face clearly until now and I had to stifle a laugh.
I walked into a Hillary rally with the only known transvestite Bush supporter on earth. The fact I didn’t even get to see Hillary because — as the traffic predicted — I was way too late to get a seat, didn’t matter. Meeting a republican tranny was worth all the driving. When we walked back to our cars, he shook my hand and said, “See you around Kelli!” I thought, “Where? The Lancome counter?”
In other news, today is National Pie Day. Why do I know this? Because I subscribe to Country Living and hunt out opportunities to have any reason to bake. I took the opportunity to make veggie quiche in phyllo dough for my staff and mini quiche for friends.
Here’s hoping you get a slice of something sweet today too!
*Inspired by Waitress.