Well... wow. It's been a while. It seems my TBP (Time Between Posts) has been getting longer and longer lately. I've been a bit busy just living life. So sit down, kiddies, and I'll tell you a story.
A Year Ago...Remember my "make or break" experience last year when I went back to the big Sun-N-Fun fly-in for the first time as myself? I was terrified a year ago about how I'd be received by the scores of friends and acquaintances I'd developed over the last 30 years. On top of that, I'd reluctantly accepted a volunteer position that put me front and center among all those people, announcing the planes flying off of our runway, both on the extensive PA system and streamed live to the internet. As immersion training for overcoming social anxiety, it would be hard to find something more intense for a transwoman just coming out.
But it all worked out wonderfully. And last week I went back to do it all again.
ArrivalOn Friday I pulled Christine to Lakeland and set up camp. Christine is the evil camping trailer that @SassyCassie and I had struggled with as we pulled it home from Michigan a year ago. Christine mostly behaved herself this year.
Friday night Cassie and I get tarted up in the trailer, then drove to Tampa to go clubbing, as I've already written about. We got back to Christine at 6am and slept most of the day. No volunteering for me on Saturday!
Sunday: Getting StartedOn Sunday I got to work. I have never gotten so many hugs as I did that day as I re-met all the people who had met my real self last year for the first time - after knowing me for decades. And for those guys who started out with a simple, tentative handshake, I made sure they were turned into hugs. No one recoiled in horror. [emoji16]
What We Do, and How We Do ItI signed in and met up with "P", my purported boss and my co-host for the week. We set up the hardware, which I love almost as much as the airplanes. This year we simplified with two wired mics; two wireless mics; a computer for music, prerecorded interviews, and internet streaming, and a mixer to bring it all together. Nine self-powered speakers on the flight line and we were ready to go. Best of all, the shack we worked in is air conditioned. We could get quite popular in the afternoon when the temperature hit 90F.
Our job was to support the exhibitors, visitors, and our little corner of Sun-N-Fun, known as Paradise City. It's where the light planes and ultralights are showcased. We even have our own 1400 ft. grass strip. We did live announcing as the planes flew, played appropriate flying-themed music, and played loops of previous interviews with vendors, pilots, and visitors while we recorded new ones when our pattern was shut down. After 35 years of ultralights and other light planes, I have a head full of technical information that normally I bore people with - but in this case, was valuable. P is an excellent color commentator. As he described it when I was decrying the lack of specs for one exhibitor's plane, "I can take those four lines of information and turn it into 10 minutes of B*llsh*t." I describe him as the man with the radio voice and the face to match. He's pretty cool, and we work very well together.
The continuous feedback we got from the other volunteers and visitors is they really like what we do - especially when P and I get to bantering - even more when I correct him when he gets the facts wrong. They love it when the woman knows more about the planes than the guy does, and she isn't afraid to call him on it. P came up with a schtick where he owes me a dollar every time I correct him. The crowd seems to keep a running tally...
Here's our home for the week, and our hardware, along with our lovely technical commentator, whose hair was still pink from the night out clubbing:
P had brought in a stick-up calendar for scheduling interviews, and this was on the bottom. I found it appropriate inspiration for the week:
Monday was a relaxed day, attending to final setup details and meeting more friends. I brought in my computer with a spreadsheet of vendors, and created a quick and dirty website with scanned vendor data to display on my iPad.
Out the window on the other side of the snow fence is our runway.
That evening we had a surf and turf dinner in the campground and I got more hugs. Some friends from Arkansas, who I'd been most worried about coming out to last year, saved me a place so I could sit with them.
Tuesday was the official start of the show. We were as ready as we could get.
The Show BeginsHere is our daily flying schedule:
Having to be up that early isn't an easy thing for me, but I was there in time to help P get going. The morning was foggy, so few of the PPGs (Powered ParaGliders), PPCs (Powered ParaChutes), and slower ultralights attempted to fly, though the tower told us we were VFR.
The first day of the show is usually pretty slow, but things picked up for the afternoon flying. I felt terrible leaving P to handle the announcing on his own, but I'd been invited by local friends - my old across-the-street neighbors and the folks I'd built the Rans for - to go to their house for dinner and to meet their "niece," "G" (virtual, not actual, family) and her husband, who are also both airplane nuts. It was such fun hanging out with G and discussing aviation from a woman's point of view. She is yet another new friend who only knows Stephanie. After a sweaty day, I cleaned up and got a little dressed up for the occasion.
Wednesday: The Show "Takes Off."Wednesday the show started popping. I met our helper, "J," and he consistently and unerringly referred to me as ma'am. Yet another one of Stephanie's new friends.
We were kept busy all morning until they shut us down for the big airshow. I took off for the "other side" of Sun-N-Fun, where most of the vendors are. I met up with more friends, did some shopping, and stopped by the 99's house to say hello and look over the compass rose we'd painted two weeks before. If you don't know, the 99's are a women's only pilots group, started in 1929 by Amelia Earhart and 98 other women pilots. I have been warmly welcomed into the group. More new friends who only know Stephanie.
Our compass rose was getting all dirty! How dare all those people walk and drive over our artwork!
On Wednesday afternoon my dear friend "L" showed up and asked if I would like to go for a flight around our pattern. She didn't have to twist my arm very hard. She built a Rans just like the one I'd built, and did a beautiful job. She offered to let me fly, but I was content to sit back and enjoy the view and her expert piloting.
Flaring on final for runway 08:
The grandstands ahead, and the Media Center on the right, as seen from the runway:
For the afternoon flying, my friend "LM, " who is an excellent photographer, snapped a candid picture of P and me working. Ugh. That lady needs to work on getting rid of her belly.
Wednesday evening one of the vendors had a cookout and I enjoyed the burgers, dogs, and roasted corn. I saw a few friends in the crowd who I haven't talked to for a few years. I watched them glance my way, then saw their eyes slide off, as happens when you see someone you don't know. That was kind of fun. I stood in line hobnobbing with those around me, with very little self-consciousness. The guy in line behind me, in fact, looked very familiar, and we talked airplanes just like any other aviation nuts. It wasn't until later that I realized exactly who he was, someone who I used to interact with a lot, and who I'd lost touch with 4 or 5 years ago. I wonder if he knew who the lady was that he was talking with?
Thursday, an Amazingly Affirming DayAfter the morning flying I took off for the other side again. Today there were two very cool things going on that I just had to be part of.
The first was a face-to-face meeting of "Ladies Love Taildraggers," an informal group put together on FaceBook by "J" for women who love flying planes with the third wheel on the correct end. I finally got to meet J, bought myself my very first women's fitted t-shirt, and was welcomed in as just another of the women enthusiasts. Squeee!
Sister Susan's member @Dani is on my right:
J is in the center:
I only had a half hour to hobnob before I had to get to the second cool thing on my schedule. The 99's were having a photo shoot with two ladies who had been Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASPs) during WWII. While they weren't allowed in combat, they ferried planes all over the world, sometimes in combat areas. Unfortunately, despite their service to our country, they were considered an extra-military organization and were never offered veteran's benefits. It was still lovely to meet them, and I'm sure they're gratified that we now have women serving in all parts of the military, including combat positions. (Don't get me started on how transfolks are being treated [emoji35].) We all got together on the steps of the 99s house for pictures, and I got to talk with some of the ladies I'd worked with on the compass rose.
One in particular, "A" on the lower left in pink, was especially happy to see me, and when I mentioned that I'd just met with J from Ladies Love Taildraggers, she asked me to take her there to meet her. We talked like old girlfriends as we walked back to the LLT meeting place, and J was still there. "A" bought herself a shirt too, and we got a picture together.
When I got back to Paradise City, I was talking with my dear friend "T," when another old friend rode up and started talking to T about a plane he was selling. "S" and I had spent a lot of time hanging out in the past, but I hadn't seen him for probably eight years. He chatted away with T, completely ignoring me, until T said, "Steph here could demo that plane for you if you like." For the first time S looked over at me. He paused, looked at my nametag, and said, "Oh! Uhh... how are you doing?" My answer, as it had been all week, was, "Never better!" We talked about how things had been going since we'd last talked, and he left with a smile and congratulations.
Thursday night we traditionally have chili in the campground, and an informal group of us, dubbed "Team Redneck" by my friend "J" who'd started it years ago, have a tradition of going out to the middle of our runway to remember those of us who we've lost over the years.
I was surprised when I was inducted into TR in 2005, considering that I was not just a Yankee who came to Florida, I was a "Damned Yankee" who came to Florida and
stayed. We are all given "team names," and I was originally dubbed "Brother Parrot," for my affinity for Jimmy Buffett music. Knowing the unstated macho culture of the group, I offered to turn in my hat back when I came out to J. I have never seen him so angry. He made it abundantly clear that as a member of the group, I was considered family, and I'd better not mention leaving the group again. Since then I am known as "Sister Parrot."
We met on the runway, spoke of those we missed, did the traditional sharing of our adult beverages by pouring a little onto the runway for them, then reminisced a bit. "J" went around the circle, outlining for our newest members how each of us were named. When he got to me, he said, "Parrot here got her name because she likes Jimmy Buffett." Squeee!
What a day!
Friday......was more of the same. This day I decided to dress up a bit.
P and I got into the familiar rhythm and knocked the audience dead. Every time we'd banter back and forth I could see folks in the stands look over to us with big smiles on their faces. We were a bit of a hit, and many of them stopped by to tell us that. I was unfailingly gendered correctly by all of them.
At one point, a familiar face showed up in the shack. "JG" was someone who I'd known during my ultralight competition days. I was flying fixed wing while he was competing in powered paragliders, but we'd spent a lot of time talking together. P introduced me to him as Stephanie, and they recorded their interview while I handled the mixing board. After we got done I talked with J a bit, then told him, "you know, you and I have some history." He looked puzzled, and I asked him if he remembered the guy who used to compete with a teal, white, and orange Hawk. He said sure, and I did the
Ta-Da!! pose. He seemed a bit mystified by that. I reminded him of all the details of the comps we'd been in, and finally told him that I'd begun transitioning two years ago. He didn't understand what I meant by transitioning, and even after quick explanations, I think his head edited the memories of those old days to see me as Stephanie competing in those championships. It's strange, but I'm perfectly okay with that.
What was cool is I found out he doesn't live that far away, and he invited me to fly in and go for a helicopter flight with him. Not that it makes a bit of difference, but I found out later that he's gay and lives with his boyfriend there, so maybe that's why he didn't see anything notable in my transition.
"P" had a forum to do at noon, so I was left alone to announce for the "manufacturers showcase," where each vendor brings out their planes and has the pattern to themselves for a while to really show them off. When we can, we prefer to have a manufacturer's rep do the announcing, since they know their products better than anyone else, but it was my job to introduce them, and do the announcing if they didn't send someone. It was a bit nerve-wracking at first, but eventually I realized I was really enjoying myself.
I again wandered the other side during our airshow break (with the Blue Angels turning our tax dollars into big wonderful noise). I ran across a few very cool shirts I almost bought, but as usual at events like these, the prices were outrageous, so I satisfied myself with pictures of them instead.
It's said that you can track the progress of a transwomen's transition by the fact that in the beginning we can't wait to put on a bra, and later we can't wait to take it off...
It was another good afternoon commentatoring (my story, my words!) The taxi line and pattern were full almost all evening, as were the grandstands, and I was kept busy spouting technical information. It got pretty redundant with the same planes running the pattern, but the crowd kept rotating new people in and out, and nobody complained of boredom.
Afterwards we went out for Thai food, and, as I wrote about in a different thread, I got in a little trouble with a woman friend of mine for using my femaleness as an excuse for poor parking. We shared smiles about it, so it's all good.
SaturdaySaturday morning started out with a balloon launch.
When I got to work, P, who is a powered paraglider guy, decided he'd rather fly than talk, so I put my limited knowledge of those craft to work and did the announcing alone. I was surprised when P later told me that his wife had been listening via the internet feed, and had complimented me on the good job I was doing with it. I thought I was struggling, but I guess it didn't show.
Once again I did most of the manufacturers showcase alone, and we had an interesting close call. We have our own pattern on the south side of the airport. We don't go north, and nobody from the other side is supposed to go south except the ridehoppers, who stay well above 500 feet, while we stay at 400 or below. While one of the manufacturers were wringing out their plane, one of the Blue Angels blasted right through our pattern, gear and flaps down, at what couldn't have been over 500 feet. If I'd been flying then I would have had to land and clean out my panties. We never did get an explanation of why he was there, but but the Blues are so revered it's not likely they got into trouble for it.
During the big airshow I ended up taking a nap. Not only does our shack have air conditioning, but it also deadens some of the noise from the Blue Angels. I wouldn't be surprised if there were some bleeding eardrums on the flightline.
The afternoon flying went like clockwork, and P again went flying during the slow aircraft segment. I did the announcing, and when he landed, he rolled up to the fence and dropped his chute. He's an instructor for PPCs, so I took him a microphone, and he fielded questions from the grandstands. I was the microphone girl, holding it for spectators who had questions. I got many thank you's with lots of ma'am's and misses.
When flying closed down for the night it was time for our volunteer dinner. We share a meal, talk about the week gone by, and give awards. Usually they're just service pins, some rewarding as many as 25 years of volunteering. This year, however, they did something new. They decided that each division chair could give an award to their best coworker. We have many divisions: Exhibitor support, camping, security, etc., etc. One of them is the Media Team. Considering that P and I do most of the work, with assistance from one guy and occasionally an 11 year old runner, it seemed a foregone conclusion that P would have to give me the award. As the default choice, it really didn't have that much meaning to me. It was no surprise when they called my name. What
was a surprise, and had me in happy tears back in my camper later, was the applause and cheers I got as I walked up to collect that piece of paper. It may be my ego talking, but I'm sure they were louder than those for any other person. I held it in until I was alone, but then the phrase, "They cheered for me!" kept bouncing through my head, and wave after wave of relieved and happy tears hit me for over an hour. It's getting to me even now as I write about it.
SundayThe last official day of the show, not much happens on our side. The chutes fly in the morning, then the pattern is limited to departures only. At noon we start tearing down. The airshow brings in people for the locals discount, but we're pretty much done, and the exhibitors prepare to bolt as soon as they are given the okay to leave (they're contracted to stay through 5pm on Sunday, though many of them ignore that). P and I disassembled the audio equipment and cleaned up the shack in preparation for returning it to the good folks who'd lent it to us.
I took a deep breath and pushed my comfort zone out another few inches by wearing the fitted t-shirt I'd bought the other day. Being self-conscious about my shoulders, belly and boobs, along with my lack of hips, I never thought I'd develop the confidence to wear anything like that. But considering that I'd worn a tank top on Sunday as we set up, with no negative repercussions, I decided to go for it. And again, nobody had a comment either for or against it. Stephanie's just another woman working here. Why shouldn't she wear something like that?
Sunday night was the "Taildragger Party" put on by the main Sun-N-Fun organization, a BBQ dinner and musical entertainment, and many thanks from the powers that be to those of us without whom the show couldn't happen. When the music started I wanted to move with it. Most of the people at my table sat there like logs, but there was a group of ladies a couple of tables over who were getting into it and having a great time. I ended up putting my hands in the air like I just didn't care along with them, and we pointed and smiled at each other. A while later, I walked over, put my arms around two of them, and said, "I want to party with you girls!" We had a laugh, and I walked away wondering at myself for how I'd changed over the last couple of years. I never would have had the nerve or even the inclination to do anything like that in the before-times. I was loving being me.
MondayMonday morning, the remaining Paradise City crew go out to breakfast, and the chairman cuts our volunteer wristbands off and ceremoniously releases us from duty until next year. We are all so busy during the week that we rarely get a few moments to sit down an meet some of the new members. It was nice to just take our time and chat among each other. It's interesting that we have folks from all over the US and even the world, with different points of view, all working together for a common goal. Consider that in the picture we have rednecks, an Englishman, a transwoman, and a woman wearing a MAGA hat, all transcending our differences, in service to our friendships and common interests. It's a microcosm of how the world should be.
Back to RealityToo soon it was over and time to hook up Christine and head home. Final goodbyes were said, and I returned to the sad reality of being back in the neighborhood where I was sure to be deadnamed and misgendered. While my neighbors were also volunteers, the few chances they had to misgender me were far outweighed by the number of times it was gotten correct by everyone else. Back home it became the norm instead of the exception. That, along with sheer exhaustion, contributed to a mini-meltdown that night. If it weren't for my dear Bestie talking me through it, I might still be down. For a while it seemed that every silver lining had a dark cloud, but with my loved one's help, I've managed to invert that again.
And so endeth the story of Stephanie's Sun-N-Fun adventures for this year. Stay tuned for more thrilling exploits in 2020.
Hey! Wake up!
Stephanie
