There's a guy in Austin named Leslie. He's a wildly famous homeless crossdresser who hangs out around the downtown and is about as big a tourist destination as anything else Austin's got. He's flamboyant, he's talkative, he's a relentless campaigner against police cruelty, a perennial mayoral candidate, he's got a relatively hairless and surprisingly freckled rear end, and everybody knows that you're not really an Austinite until you've had your first Leslie encounter. If you don't believe me, look at this Wikipedia site about him. It took me a year before I ever saw him, but once I broke the seal, he seemed to pop up everywhere I went. I saw him at Guero's, on the bus, at the library, in coffee shops. But you know what's weird? He never mooned me. I know, it sounds kinky. Who wants to see Leslie's butt? But (no pun intended), everybody saw Leslie's butt. He flashed and mooned and dropped trow all over town. Everybody I knew had seen his butt. And when I said, "Hey, I saw Leslie yesterday," they always said something about his thong or his butt. "Did he moon you?" It bothered me. Why did Leslie moon every Tom, Dick, and Harry in Austin, but not me? In fact, definitely go look at the Wikipedia site. He's mooning the camera in one of the pictures. (To be fair, it isn't always a direct mooning. Sometimes his skirt is just that short.)
Anyway, it finally happened. Cookie and I were at a coffee shop the other morning (a red letter morning!) and in walked Leslie. Chat, chat, chat, he just got a 61-inch TV to put in his shed that he lives in (dear lord), he finally found the perfect skirt, do I like this shade of red nail polish, yada yada yada. I happened to have my camera with me, and asked for a picture, so he and Cookie posed for me. Charming, no?
(Sorry your face is blurry, Cookie. I didn't have my flash on, and the battery was low.)
Then Leslie walked away.
Then Leslie turned around. He's coming back. What does he want?
"Sorry," he says. "I just realized I didn't give you the picture you really want. Got your camera ready?" I did, so he turned around, picked up his skirt, and mooned me. Turns out, I could've lived an entire lifetime quite happily without seeing Leslie's butt that close to my face. And funniest of all? My camera wouldn't take the picture (see comment above re: battery and flash), and his bare naked butt was THREE FEET FROM MY FACE. (oh, shudders) I'm holding camera up there, pressing the shutter button, holding my breath for some reason, face averted, praying for death to take me quickly, but it doesn't, and finally I lie and say, "Oh, there it goes! What a great picture. Thanks, Leslie!"
So, yeah. I saw Leslie's butt. What's that old adage about being careful what you wish for?
I'll leave you today with a much nicer mental image. Here's a cute picture of my cute friend Cookie. She's single, boys. Act quickly.