[A short true story. Photos are available if I get more than 15 comments]
It’s 1am - and I’m walking along a main road dressed as Little Red Riding Hood. A long red wig hides my short hair; over the knee stockings my hairy legs. I purposely didn’t shave for the last ten days; so tonight; before I left home: I did, giving myself a 70s style moustache. There’s no getting away from it – I look like a really good bad transvestite.
I originally wanted to go to tonight’s fancy dress party as a zombie – a nazi zombie - to be precise, but my best mate had already bought a brilliant werewolf outfit and someone needed to be LRRH – so here I am. It’s been a great night. Everyone of the forty people dressed up - except for one person. Good company and music; just enough alcohol to get us merry.
A car slows down as it passes on the other side of the road, heading the opposite way to me. I don’t look towards it, I just keep walking. At no stage did I ever think I might be in danger, being dressed up like this, but my internal alarm bells are ringing. A klaxon goes off in my head: some people won’t think this is a joke.
‘You f**king gay c**t,’ screams a voice from the car.
I keep walking, but wonder how this might turn out. Should I run, or maybe face up to them? Should I stop and cheekily ask: ‘Are you talking to moi?’
‘Oi you f**king queer ba****d.’ I want to point out that even though I’m dressed as a woman – it doesn’t actually mean I’m ‘f***ing gay’, but I decide its best if I say nothing; unsure of whether this is the greatest moment to educate an inbred on the details of sexual orientation. To be honest, I feel a mixture of fear and exhilaration.
Somewhere inside, I want some dirty little chav to get out of the car and start on me. I want the chance to surprise him with my fists and boots, so that he thinks twice about ever picking on someone again. ‘You dirty f***ing gay,’ screams the voice again as the car wheel spins up the road. For the first time I look over my shoulder; checking that they have gone, and I’m relieved to see the red tail lights disappear into the distance.
That could have turned out so differently. For instance: It would have been funny if they had tooted their car horn and then shouted ‘Whoa-hey’ out of the window on their way past. I would have laughed at that. Or I suppose the other alternative would have seen me lying in a pool of blood; having had the s**t kicked out of me.
It’s odd that a grown man dressed as Little Red Ridding Hood with a 70s porn moustache, should find ‘them’ weird, but maybe its ‘them’ that are uncomfortable with their sexuality?