St. Patrick’s Day With a Six-Foot Eight Cross Dresser

There is a huge monster of a man who comes to the restaurant on a frequent basis dressed as “Jessica”.  Jessica could probably dunk on a regulation hoop, and I’m always surprised that womens clothes and shoes are available in such large sizes.  Like many men who dress as women as a hobby, Jessica doesn’t get a good clean shave.  Her face has a five o’clock shadow covered over by foundation.  I don’t remember if Jessica shaves her legs or not, I’ve never ventured a look, But she definitely loves her beer.  She has a gut that would make any armchair quarterback jealous.

She came in alone on St. Patrick’s day as per usual.  I didn’t see her go into the restaurant, but when she came out she asked us to get her a cab.  After years of working downtown, I’ve basically seen it all.  Nothing really shocks me anymore.  So I’m a bit immune to the whole novelty of the thing.  But put Jessica out in the open and add a holiday based on binge drinking, and the shit really hits the fan.

My coworker was trying to hail a cab, while people’s eyes bulged out staring as they passed us by.  There were comments from people like “Holy shit, look at that!” or ribbing a friend and saying “I found a girl for you to take home, she’s just your type”.  Then there was the classic push your friend into the cross dresser while saying “My friend thinks you’re cute!” as the friend struggles to get away, embarrassed that his manliness has been put to question.

You couldn’t help but feel bad for Jessica.  It was a deluge of awkwardness.  Another of our customers was ready to go, so I grabbed their keys, bade Jessica to have a good night, and ran off to get the car.

While I was gone, my coworker finally got the attention of a cab.  He held the door and noticed a group of regular douche bags outside smoking.  They watched as she got inside the cab.

In a final embarrassing shot, one yelled out, “It puts the lotion on its skin, or else it gets the hose again.”  Everyone laughed at her.

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