Interaction

Creature of the night?

One of the things I've never done a lot of -- make that any of, really -- is interact with folks as Lizzy. And that is what I crave: to be able to go out casually, in broad daylight and be ... me.  But as we all know, that is easier said than done.  When I get near others, my heart freezes and I fight a (usually losing) battle to (a) turn my head (b) turn around or (c) all of the above.   So, on my recent cross country trip from Somewhere In Western Alabama to Somewhere in Northern Georgia and back (detailed beginning here) I was determined to interact while I looked like how I feel inside.

It began, as do so many of our adventures, in the dark ... after indulging in the t-girl ritual of Photos at the Hotel (see some of them here), I got in the car to fill up its tank.  Of course, this was in Somewhere in Northern Georgia, in the roots of the Southern Appalachians, so it was cold, and I didn't have sweater one, so I stood shivering in my capris and tee, filling the gas tank, hoping that some roving gang of teen-aged hoodlums didn't read and/or harass me.


Of course, that didn't happen -- it rarely does -- and so I was on to the 24-hour Burger King drive through for a large, unsweet iced tea.  Now, it was 10:30 pm, you understand, and I didn't want a large unsweet iced tea, but I was determined to interact, even if it was with some pimply-faced high school kid at a drive through.

Which it was, and I went through, my carefully worked-on voice sounding flat in the floodlit darkness. And though I didn't exactly look him confidently in the eyes, I didn't turn away either, and it was a small victory in my long road out.