My train trip to Sacramento - dressed femme
Posted: Sat Dec 30, 2006 9:41 pm
Hi - this is an account of my train trip to Sacramento last year. I hope it's not too long, apologies if it is!
All Aboard For Sacramento !!
Ever since I was old enough to know that my grandfather was an engineer on the Missouri Pacific Railroad, I have been fascinated with the size and tremendous power of trains. As a five year old boy, I remember how the ground shook as the Long Island Railroad pulled in to deliver my father from work. As a fifty year old man, I remember how the ground shook as a Union Pacific freight train thundered through Gerlach last summer in the Black Rock Desert of Nevada. As a twenty year old college student, I would walk to class along the Milwaukee Road tracks, hoping a local freight would come along. As a thirteen year old boy, I was almost left behind as the Denver & Rio Grande Western’s California Zephyr pulled out of Denver with my family on board; I had been too busy admiring the sleek silver cars from the platform when the train began to roll. For me trains were meant to be enjoyed and admired as well as ridden, and this is still true today.
Not long ago I decided to visit the California State Railroad Museum in Sacramento, California. It would be a great day for a railroad buff like me. Amtrak from San Jose to Sacramento early in the morning, and a whole afternoon to enjoy the museum at my leisure. What could be better? The museum is in Old Sacramento, an easy walk from the railroad station. I would enjoy trains galore, some Wild West atmosphere and would end up back in San Jose the same evening. As a special twist, I would be dressing femme for the day!
Some explanation is in order here. I am a straight guy, happily married to a wonderful woman for almost twenty years. I have typical male interests such as music, aviation and target shooting. I was an engineer in the semiconductor industry for many years before being laid off recently. And…I really enjoy wearing skirts! My body is one hundred percent male and always will be, but somehow I enjoy dressing femme from the waist down. From the waist up I appear as a completely ordinary guy; no wigs, make-up or padding and just regular guy shirts and so forth. From the waist down however I wear short skirts, men’s briefs, pantyhose and high heels. I shave my legs but not my mustache! It’s a wonderful combination for me, and I feel especially happy and energized when I dress this way. I try to do so a few times per month, but the rest of the time I look like just another typical guy.
Early one morning, I’m standing in line to buy a ticket at the beautifully restored Southern Pacific Railroad depot in San Jose, California. It’s a day I’ve been eager to begin. Commuters and travelers stand in line with me, and some of them are awake enough to glance politely at my clothing. I am dressed femme for the day, and have left my pants behind! From the waist up I look like my ordinary male self: camouflage jacket, camouflage t-shirt and mustache. A handbag that used to be my camera kit hangs over one shoulder and contains the things that more usually go in my pants pockets.
From the waist down my femme persona begins. I’m wearing a short camouflage skirt, taupe pantyhose and black loafers with stacked two-inch heels. I especially enjoy the skirt matching my upper clothes, and I feel like I’m wearing a suit when I have the jacket on. My legs are sleek and smooth from shaving just an hour ago and even though I speak to the ticket agent in my normal male voice, I feel pretty, sexy and feminine.
Out on the platform I admire the throbbing diesel-electric locomotive and then climb aboard the train. I walk a bit more carefully than my male self, adjusting my stride to accommodate my high heels. I cross my legs modestly as I take my seat and smooth my short skirt above and below me. Soon we are rolling and on our way! I am excited and a little nervous as we pick up speed; this is my first time dressed femme outside the liberal San Francisco Bay Area. How will people react to me in Sacramento? I am soon to find out.
The train rolls out of the Bay Area and heads northeast after crossing the bridge at Benicia. I time the mileposts and note that we are exceeding 80 MPH at times. Even so it’s a smooth ride, and I enjoy breakfast and coffee in the dinette car. Passengers and crew look discretely at me from time to time, but no one says anything out the ordinary. I feel self-conscious but safe and unthreatened. As we pull in to Sacramento I’m really keyed up. I have only my skirt for modesty and my heels for transport! I take a few deep breaths and walk into the depot.
It all turns out to be anti-climactic. Nobody gives me any trouble, although I can tell they’re intrigued by the skirt around my waist and my legs in sheer, delicate pantyhose. I imagine their thoughts:
”He must be gay, but he’s wearing a wedding ring!”
“Why is he dressed like that?”
”How come his legs look so bare and exposed?”
”Is the mustache for real?”
”I thought guys were supposed to be rough and hairy all over!”
The docent in the cab of a huge steam locomotive gawks at me but still goes carefully through his explanation of the oil-burning firebox. An elderly lady strikes up a conversation as we both admire the dining car of a streamlined express train. I think she is curious to hear if my voice will be high or low. Of course it is low, because I always use a male voice regardless of how I’m dressed. She smiles at me and never mentions my clothing.
The most outgoing reaction I get is from the woman behind the lunch counter. Cheerful and ebullient, she says “Whoa Buster, where did you get those great legs?” She admires my outfit, looks me up and down and says “Oh yeah…turn around!” I oblige, pivoting while I hold the hem of my skirt with both hands. Her compliments really make my day, in fact they make my whole month! I smile bashfully and blush a little, and her kind words really make me feel good. This is the high point of the day, and I end up chatting with the woman and her sister for over an hour. It turns out that they are both lesbians, and from them I gather that Sacramento definitely has a connected LGBT community.
All too soon it’s time to catch my train home, and I say goodbye to the two sisters. I’ve lost track of time and now I must trot back to the station as fast as my high heels will carry me. Running in heels is kind of a misnomer, as you can’t go too fast without risking a dangerous fall. This is the only time that my gait become obviously feminine; heels look terrific but they definitely have their physical limitations! As it turns out, the station is closer than I realized and I make it to the platform in plenty of time. I feel a tremendous surge of accomplishment and satisfaction as I take a seat and kick back for the ride home. We roll right next to the water along the Carquinez Strait and San Pablo Bay, and the sun is low in the western sky. The scenery is gorgeous, and it’s a great way to end a fabulous day. I feel very fortunate to be who I am.
All Aboard For Sacramento !!
Ever since I was old enough to know that my grandfather was an engineer on the Missouri Pacific Railroad, I have been fascinated with the size and tremendous power of trains. As a five year old boy, I remember how the ground shook as the Long Island Railroad pulled in to deliver my father from work. As a fifty year old man, I remember how the ground shook as a Union Pacific freight train thundered through Gerlach last summer in the Black Rock Desert of Nevada. As a twenty year old college student, I would walk to class along the Milwaukee Road tracks, hoping a local freight would come along. As a thirteen year old boy, I was almost left behind as the Denver & Rio Grande Western’s California Zephyr pulled out of Denver with my family on board; I had been too busy admiring the sleek silver cars from the platform when the train began to roll. For me trains were meant to be enjoyed and admired as well as ridden, and this is still true today.
Not long ago I decided to visit the California State Railroad Museum in Sacramento, California. It would be a great day for a railroad buff like me. Amtrak from San Jose to Sacramento early in the morning, and a whole afternoon to enjoy the museum at my leisure. What could be better? The museum is in Old Sacramento, an easy walk from the railroad station. I would enjoy trains galore, some Wild West atmosphere and would end up back in San Jose the same evening. As a special twist, I would be dressing femme for the day!
Some explanation is in order here. I am a straight guy, happily married to a wonderful woman for almost twenty years. I have typical male interests such as music, aviation and target shooting. I was an engineer in the semiconductor industry for many years before being laid off recently. And…I really enjoy wearing skirts! My body is one hundred percent male and always will be, but somehow I enjoy dressing femme from the waist down. From the waist up I appear as a completely ordinary guy; no wigs, make-up or padding and just regular guy shirts and so forth. From the waist down however I wear short skirts, men’s briefs, pantyhose and high heels. I shave my legs but not my mustache! It’s a wonderful combination for me, and I feel especially happy and energized when I dress this way. I try to do so a few times per month, but the rest of the time I look like just another typical guy.
Early one morning, I’m standing in line to buy a ticket at the beautifully restored Southern Pacific Railroad depot in San Jose, California. It’s a day I’ve been eager to begin. Commuters and travelers stand in line with me, and some of them are awake enough to glance politely at my clothing. I am dressed femme for the day, and have left my pants behind! From the waist up I look like my ordinary male self: camouflage jacket, camouflage t-shirt and mustache. A handbag that used to be my camera kit hangs over one shoulder and contains the things that more usually go in my pants pockets.
From the waist down my femme persona begins. I’m wearing a short camouflage skirt, taupe pantyhose and black loafers with stacked two-inch heels. I especially enjoy the skirt matching my upper clothes, and I feel like I’m wearing a suit when I have the jacket on. My legs are sleek and smooth from shaving just an hour ago and even though I speak to the ticket agent in my normal male voice, I feel pretty, sexy and feminine.
Out on the platform I admire the throbbing diesel-electric locomotive and then climb aboard the train. I walk a bit more carefully than my male self, adjusting my stride to accommodate my high heels. I cross my legs modestly as I take my seat and smooth my short skirt above and below me. Soon we are rolling and on our way! I am excited and a little nervous as we pick up speed; this is my first time dressed femme outside the liberal San Francisco Bay Area. How will people react to me in Sacramento? I am soon to find out.
The train rolls out of the Bay Area and heads northeast after crossing the bridge at Benicia. I time the mileposts and note that we are exceeding 80 MPH at times. Even so it’s a smooth ride, and I enjoy breakfast and coffee in the dinette car. Passengers and crew look discretely at me from time to time, but no one says anything out the ordinary. I feel self-conscious but safe and unthreatened. As we pull in to Sacramento I’m really keyed up. I have only my skirt for modesty and my heels for transport! I take a few deep breaths and walk into the depot.
It all turns out to be anti-climactic. Nobody gives me any trouble, although I can tell they’re intrigued by the skirt around my waist and my legs in sheer, delicate pantyhose. I imagine their thoughts:
”He must be gay, but he’s wearing a wedding ring!”
“Why is he dressed like that?”
”How come his legs look so bare and exposed?”
”Is the mustache for real?”
”I thought guys were supposed to be rough and hairy all over!”
The docent in the cab of a huge steam locomotive gawks at me but still goes carefully through his explanation of the oil-burning firebox. An elderly lady strikes up a conversation as we both admire the dining car of a streamlined express train. I think she is curious to hear if my voice will be high or low. Of course it is low, because I always use a male voice regardless of how I’m dressed. She smiles at me and never mentions my clothing.
The most outgoing reaction I get is from the woman behind the lunch counter. Cheerful and ebullient, she says “Whoa Buster, where did you get those great legs?” She admires my outfit, looks me up and down and says “Oh yeah…turn around!” I oblige, pivoting while I hold the hem of my skirt with both hands. Her compliments really make my day, in fact they make my whole month! I smile bashfully and blush a little, and her kind words really make me feel good. This is the high point of the day, and I end up chatting with the woman and her sister for over an hour. It turns out that they are both lesbians, and from them I gather that Sacramento definitely has a connected LGBT community.
All too soon it’s time to catch my train home, and I say goodbye to the two sisters. I’ve lost track of time and now I must trot back to the station as fast as my high heels will carry me. Running in heels is kind of a misnomer, as you can’t go too fast without risking a dangerous fall. This is the only time that my gait become obviously feminine; heels look terrific but they definitely have their physical limitations! As it turns out, the station is closer than I realized and I make it to the platform in plenty of time. I feel a tremendous surge of accomplishment and satisfaction as I take a seat and kick back for the ride home. We roll right next to the water along the Carquinez Strait and San Pablo Bay, and the sun is low in the western sky. The scenery is gorgeous, and it’s a great way to end a fabulous day. I feel very fortunate to be who I am.