In the early 80’s I was walking across the street on the North side of Chicago. It was summer and I was just beginning my transition. Needless to say, I fell pray to what I lovingly refer to as:

My Clown Period.

I literally dressed like a clown.

I over emphasized everything. I pushed my hips from side to side so far I could topple a mannequin inside any store window on Michigan Avenue. I relied on heavy eyeliner, dark shades of pink and red lipstick, and enough base to cover Joan River’s extra moles. I was wearing one of my favorite outfits at the time: A hot pink tube top, jean short-shorts, and white lace up wedgies. I never went out of the house unless I used the Clairol curling wand to give my hair that freshly starched Bernadette Peters look, and I always had a purse to match my shoes.

I was a clown

But it was the beginning of finding out who I was and the end of any sliver of self respect I had gained.

In the interim, between finding myself and peddling my lip synching abilities, I would occasionally feed my nicotine addiction. So….I was walking across the street to get a pack of smokes in the middle of summer, on the North side, at the height of My Clown Period.

As I tippy-toed across the cross walk at High Noon, a police car pulled up beside me, and before I could tweak my own red button nose, a cop and his boorish buddy had me up against the car, snickering and making jokes.

“You’re coming with us, down town.”

“What’s wrong? What did I do?” I asked plainly.

“You’re supposed to be wearing two articles of male clothes underneath that shit.” The one cop with the bad breath said to me, still smirking.

“Like….a pair of tube socks?” I asked.

No one really appreciated my sense of humor, and I was hauled off to jail where I spent the rest of the day and that night.

Eventually I found out that there was indeed a law on the Illinois books that was under the heading of Indecency. Apparently, if you were born one gender you couldn’t dress like the opposite gender unless you still retained two articles of the original gender’s original clothes underneath the opposite gender’s clothes. You’d think Illinois judges would have more important, not too mention less confusing things to do with their time.

About a month ago, I got an e mail out of the blue from a theatre company nestled in the bosom of Romania. Apparently, this particular company was interested in learning about the Viewpoints, and the artistic director went on line, googled the Viewpoints and somehow, found me. They asked if I would be interested in coming over for a week and teaching a small workshop. Like I was going to the ladies department at Sears or something.

This sounded brilliant...extraordinary. A chance of a life time….for someone who wasn’t nearly as neurotic and paranoid as I am. I don’t even like to get coffee without a herd around me. It literally scared me to death. I said no. Without even thinking.

Chrisanne was furious.

“How can you do this?” she said, her voice rising. “…..how can you say no to a once in a lifetime adventure?”

To which one of my dear pals Lindsay echoed:

“Alex! For the love of GOD! You’d be in Romania, and you could tell us all how Romania is, and we’d be incredibly jealous because none of us are IN Romania! You HAVE to go!”

To which a student of mine said:

“You’re afraid of going on an adventure? You?! With your life, that really makes no sense.”

To which I said:

“I know it doesn’t make any sense, but you have to remember that everything that’s happened to me in my life has happened by complete accident. I never really wanted all these adventures. I really didn’t. All I wanted was a spouse, a nice condo with a view, and a covered parking garage.”

….and it’s true. I never planned much of anything. I’ve never been a very calculating person. I always thought of myself as incredibly lucky, not incredibly smart. I haven’t been able to look back at my life and say: “My plan’s going Perfectly!” I’ve never, ever said that.

Street savvy I think I’ve got. How, I don’t know, but I do seem to have it. But logic? Not really. I dream big, but I seem to plan small. I’d much rather someone else take over. I’m really good at going along with stuff and saying “yes.” That probably has a lot do with the fact that I avoid responsibility like the plague. See, if I never lead anything, then nothing’s ever my fault. I’m not saying this is an attribute, I’m just stating what I think are the facts of my life.

So……about 2 weeks ago, I received another e mail and Micaehala (don’t ask…I have no idea) and she asked one more time about me coming to Romania. To teach. For a week. Alone. And after thinking over what Lindsay (who was on the phone with me for over 3 hours calming me down, taking my pulse, and assuring me they did have computers in Bucharest), and Chrisanne and my student had said to me, I remembered what a friend of mine told me last year about this time. She was on her way to Egypt. Every year she takes herself on a trip to someplace in the world that she’s never been. Just to go. To get out. To find some place new and just be there. See how the world lives and what’s different.

I thought that was amazing,

The farthest I’ve ever gone was to Hawaii with Chrisanne on our honeymoon. As magical and amazing as that was, I’m too old to continue sitting around saying yes to everyone on the planet, except myself. So…I said yes.

I said yes this time, and now I may be going to Romania for week.

I’m writing all this down because I just want people to know that if I disappear behind enemy lines because of some twisted Romanian gender law, and end up hanging upside down in some God forsaken jail cell next to Brad Davis and John Hurt, I want there to be a record of it. Don’t laugh; it almost happened when I was on my way to the 7-11 in 1981 in the middle of My Clown Period. Anything is possible.