Writer's Block

I have been looking for articles to write about but none look interesting.

I am up at the Cape this week and it is always an adventure that I don’t like coming up here. There was a bad accident in Rhode Island going the other way on I-95 which caused a backup of several miles and I was thinking that I was glad I am not going the other way. Then when I get to Providence it was my turn to wait in traffic.

I had an accident last fall at the Bourne Rotary South, I know it is call that because that was where the police said report said it happened. So now I have a longcut to avoid going through any rotaries to get on to the Cape.

The Cape and me have a long history… it goes back to when I was knee high to a grasshopper. It goes back to when I was ten or twelve (late 50s or early 60s), my parents used to rent a cottage in Truro right on the bay. They rented it for a week and our neighbor’s rented it for a second week, us kids thought it was great we got to be at the Cape for two weeks. When I became an adult I realized what they were doing… The parents had a week’s vacation from us!

When we went into Provincetown my father used to call it bohemians and now as an adult and trans I realize that it was “code” for gays. I loved it! Everywhere you looked there was an artist doing portraits or caricatures and I thought that it was so neat, now there are none, inflation drove them out. 

Jump forward by fifty years… now I had to hide the fact that I was going to Provincetown from my parents so I generated my own code for going to Fantasia Fair and First Event; a Computer Conference. But how to hide my B&B phone number? The area code for the Cape is different from the Boston area!

A friend had a cell phone so I gave out her number and told my folks that the hotel charged and outrageous price for phone calls. When I got home I got a flip phone.

Now I have a place on the Cape.

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A lesson that I have learned up here.

There still are bigots up here.

When I was looking for someone to mow my lawn, my neighbor suggested the guy who does their lawn and he came over to give me an estimate. Well when he saw me it was like he was eating a lemon, his face puckered up and I never heard back from him. The guy that I now have and who is also landscaping my yard is a Jamaican and so is his whole crew and I have no problem with them.

The plumber when I talked to him on the phone the first thing that he said when I said that I was “Diana” was “you don’t sound like a woman” hmm… I keep it now to texts and emails I don’t want to lose him because he has been working on the condo since it was built in the 70s.

The tourist are fun to watch when they spot the “tranny” they start to poke their partner in the ribs there are a lot bruised ribs from being poked in their ribs by an elbows.

Some of the deepest digs come from gays and lesbians but at the same time there are many who are very friendly to us. One rainy night we were with the First Selectman of Provincetown and we went for drinks at a bar that shall remain nameless but they were named after the fires of hell. We were the only ones in there, we didn’t get served and they also said that our party was blocking the aisle. 

But as usual 99.999 percent of the people don’t care and sometimes it is downright hilarious, one Fantasia Fair I was walking down Commercial Street a couple was coming out of a store and the husband said to his wife, “There are an awful lot of tall women in town, I wonder if there is a women basketball game tonight?”