Betty

Betty Boombox, some call her.

Her real name is James.

She's a tranny, which is slang for transvestite. This means that he is a she is a he is a she.

Still with me?

Betty is a bartender at SPQR. She is very (and I mean VERY) cool.

It's no lie that I was initially shocked when meeting Betty. I guess this little girl from the Midwest wasn't ready for that kind of person. And I remember trying to not to picture the logistics of he is a she is a he in a visual way.

In reality, though, Betty is one of the kindest, most amazing souls I have ever met.

To be a tranny takes a lot of work. It's not just chop here and fold there. It's years of therapy, hormones, and for some, a loss of identity. Betty's takes a cocktail of pills each day. Depression pills to counter the effect of the pills that fight the testosterone and the pills for extra estrogen, pills for this, pills for that. I've seen them, man, and there's a lot.

Betty's house is nicknamed the Tranny Wonderland. It's a fifth-floor, downtown, high-rise apartment, and it's beautiful. It's full of Maori treasures from her ancestors, pictures of friends, and a huge, huge model train set. One night, in the funniest story I'll ever tell, I had a few too many with Betty and Nay Nay (who also lives there) and ended up making a last-minute decision to stay the night. I slept in Betty's bed (she insisted on sleeping on the couch), wore Betty's robe, and (gasp) even borrowed a pair of (brand-new) underwear that she had in her drawer. She had a riot telling everyone at work that we shared panties.

Oh, Betty.

But the most special thing about Betty was her recent gift to me. Pounamu, or Maori greenstone, is a gift that can only be bestowed on you (you can't buy it for yourself). It's a great honor to receive it from another person. My person was Betty.

I love Betty's beauty, inside and out, and my wish for her is to always be as happy as she makes others feel.

(good on ya, girl...)