The Greatest Lie Part 10

Don’t you hate commercial air travel? No matter how many drugs I take, when they wear off, I’m disoriented, my legs are twitchy, and there are still three hours (or whatever) to go. Not enough time to take the last of the Sonata I had borrowed from Mom’s medicine cabinet before touchdown (and customs), but a long time to deal with boredom and discomfort. I got up to pee and stretch, but stepping back to my seat over my comatose friend Tran, I kicked and roused her. Her eyes rolled open, and her lips curled into a lascivious smile. "Next stops, Bangkok and Phuket. My favorite phrases," she mused. She giggled, and I joined her in a conspiratorial joke. You see, Tran and I are transsexuals, traveling to Thailand for sex reassignment surgery. But we haven’t let anatomy delay or deter us. Our bodies are playing catch-up with our hearts and our lives, and for the last year or so, my life has been moving fast.

We cleared customs and stopped by Dr. Sanguan’s clinic. His surgical coordinator told us that we were the next two openings on the waiting list for surgery, and that Dr. Sanguan would examine us assess suitability for his procedures after we had filled out our paper work. I mentally calculated our extra cash for living expenses and the remaining days until I was due back at the University of Minnesota, and said "We’re in a hurry. I thought we had our surgical dates set."

"Dr. Sanguan’s waiting list is three months long, and you wrote us only one month ago. You must wait your turns on his waiting list. But don’t worry, we get a lot of cancellations. We have two girls on Monday and I think they’re not coming. Call me tomorrow. In the meantime, have fun in Thailand."

I struggled to calculate the day of the week. We had left LA on Tuesday night, so it must be…

Pim interrupted my jet-lagged reverie. "It’s Friday. So go shopping, get some party clothes, and some Thai noodles, and then…."