I’m here in KC for the KNCSB Convention and got a chance to grab some face time with Danny Payne. We’ve been friends forever and so dinner felt ridiculous fast.
As we were leaving, I approached a member of the wait staff for a mint.
“Ma’am, I was wonder—”
The look on the person’s face made me think that I’d made an error – that I had mistakenly called a him a her.
“I mean — sirrrrrr.”
But that wasn’t right either. He didn’t really look like a he but nor did she look like a him.
I turned for some backup from Danny. He was gone. Mentally and physically. I vaguely remember him walking out the door and falling into the landscape, laughing hysterically….like a girl, now that I think about it.
I turn back to my dilemma.
“Uhhh….I need…a mint… A mint. Do you have a mint?”
“We don’t have any mints.”
Hearing the voice should have given me a hint as to the gender…but it didn’t. I was toast.
And I walked outside to a Danny Payne who was crying to hard to utter a complete sentence.
What are supposed to do? All I wanted was a mint. I didn’t want to ruin this person’s life and cause gender-identification issues. I’d blame Danny but I tend to run into these situations on my own.
I remember my sister-in-law asking they lady who was bagging her groceries one day when she was due. The woman replied – “I’m not pregnant.”
Now, if a man was to do this…it’s game over. There is no comeback. There is nothing that could be said to remotely redeem the situation. Nothing. With my sister-in-law – she says – “Oh, I’m pregnant and I just think everyone else is as well.” And all was right in the world.
It was totally genius.
There is no genius for what I did.
“Oh man…I’m sorry. I remember my voice not changing for 13 years, as well.”
“I loved you in the Matrix.”
What do you say?
Danny proved to be no help whatsoever. An utterly worthless wingman.