Biloxi Blues
by Allyssa Davis
The following is a true story to the best of my recollection
The year was 1995, May as I recall. I had just spent 19 months on the road working in close quarters with other people so I unfortunately could not practice in my secret obsession. I year and 3 months prior I had broken up with a woman that taught me some points as far as dressing as a woman and taught me makeup tips. It was all in fun for her at first, indulging my secret desires, however my compulsion to crossdress at every opportunity led to our parting ways on very unfriendly terms.
So here I was in Biloxi, Mississippi living on my own able to practice the art of female impersonation at my leisure. I could and did shave my legs, arms, and chest so that they were absent of any hair, wear makeup, lingerie, dresses, skirts, blouses and shoes of my choice. I refined my makeup techniques until I felt that I was not going to get any better and paraded around my apartment for over a month, but needed more. I decided that it was time to venture outside and feel the cool night air against my legs as I walked through the deserted streets.
Once I had decided to go outside the apartment dressed as a woman I had to build up the nerve to actually do it. Easier said than done. It took me 5 nights of repeatedly applying and adjusting my makeup and numerous clothing changes only to chicken out due to some noise and retreat off of the porch and back into the sqafety of my apartment. finally, on the 6th night I made it off of the porched and walked down the street a couple hundred feet and back. That was quite an accomplishment if I say so myself. Those of you that have actually gone out in public remember their first time and know what I am talking about.
On the following night, night number 7, I went all the way down the street, crossed the highway and walked out on the fishing pier. What a liberating experience that was. I was sweating, and my heart was pounding the whole time. I was dressed in a denim skirt, white blouse, nude nylons, ankle socks and my white Keds sneakers. As I returned to my apartment, my landlord's dog began barking and he turned his lights on to see what the commotion was all about. I managed to slip in with out being detected, I think!
After that near miss it took me several nights to muster up the courage to venture out again, but once I had been out, I had to do it again. This time I wore the same denim skirt, a red sweater, tan pantyhose, and black low heel pumps. I walked up the street the other way, made a right turn walked up a block, made another right and headed for the beach. Along the way a car kept driving by me. The driver kept talking to me and i would not make eye contact. he offered me a ride, and I squeeked out in my best/ worst female voice "No thank you, I am almost home. He was trying to pick up on me thinking I was a hooker or something. Being a casino town, it was not too far fetched that a woman walking alone at 1 am was a working girl. finally he figured out that I wasn't selling what he wanted to buy and he left me alone in search of a more willing target. I made a right on the highway, picking up the pace a bit and headed for home. I was thrilled that I was mistaken for a woman, even a hooker, but relieved that he gave up and did not find out that I was a male and give me a beating or worse.
Although it was getting easier to go out in public, I was once again housebound due to that experience. It took me a week to go out again dressed as a woman. I finally treaded off of the porch again about a week later, but it would be the last time in Biloxi.
Like I said, it took about a week before I ventured outside again and I decided to play it safe and stay off of the highways. I would stick to the residential streets. The mistake I made though was not scouting out the neighborhood in the daytime to see what was around the corner. That particular night I dressed in a short black jumper that showed a lot of leg, a black long sleeve leotard under it, black tights and black maryjane shoes. I composed this outfit around the maryjanes as they were and still are my favorite style of shoes. (I have about 10 pairs of them now in different heel heights and finishes)
I headed out of the apartment, walked toward the beach, made a right then down a block, then made another right. So far so good! To my horror I was approaching the police station and as I went across the driveway a K-9 unit was making a left into the parking lot. I guess the dog sensed my fear and went absolutely nuts in the back of the car. The officer slowly went past me and into the parking lot. That was a close call! I decided it was time to get home and picked up the pace as I did on the last outing. About 5 minutes later, the worst of my fears came true. I was just turning on my street suddenly the K-9 unit pulled up next to me. The officer addressed me as "Miss" and told me to stop walking so he could talk to me. A few seconds later another car came up and I had to face the police.
When they got out of their cars and came up close to me they figured out that I was not what I seemed, I was indeed a man in drag. One officer interrogated me while the other one ran my ID through the computer. He asked me why I was dressed as a woman. I stammered as I came up with the best story I could that I lost a bet and had to go out of the house dressed for losing the bet. He did not buy my story and asked me if I was gay. Remember this is a small town, and like most of america they believed that only gay men crossdressed. It seems that a lot of people still think crossdressers are gay to this day. although I denied the accusation, he still assumed that I was gay and further concluded that the reason I was was out there at night dressed as a woman was because I was a transvestite prostitute. He continued prodding me until I finally told him that there was no bet. I confessed thatI just liked dressing in womens clothing and felt safer from detection at night.
To add to my humiliation, he made me stand against a building while he took my picture a couple of times with a polaroid camera. The first fully dressed, and the second one without my wig. Meanwhile the other officer was still running my ID. Finally the other officer came back saying that I was okay. He told me that crossdressing was not a crime, but they would keep their eye on me. Before letting me go they told me if they found me out at night again dressed that they would take me in for suspicion of prostitution, because I was in an area that prostitutes worked and this was my first and last warning. I assured them that they would not see me out again unless I was dressed in my male clothing. As I was leaving they were joking with me and said they stopped another man walking down the street on the other side of town a few months back who also told them he lost a bet. He said the he almost arrested him for wearing white shoes after labor day. I said goodbye to them and hurried home, never to venture out dressed again in Biloxi. That is what gave me the "Biloxi Blues".
After that experience, it didn't take me long to decide to move out of Biloxi. I figured that any time I was to meet up with the police later, the dispatcher would tell them about the "Field Interrogation Report" they had on me and I would not get a fair shake no matter what I was wearing.
I would appreciate your comments and recounts of your experiences. If you have something to share just drop me a note at allyssadavis@wmconnect.com
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