The adventures of the invisible genderqueer continue! This weekend I went out to Delaware to play a hockey game. Afterwards, some of my teammates wanted to grab a beer and some food before heading back to DC. A guy at the rink told us the only place around to get drinks was the sports bar in the casino around the corner, so around to the casino we went.
With my jeans, t-shirt, faded sneakers and hot-mess-post-hockey hair, I thought I was coming across pretty much dyke, though I have no doubt that in rural Delaware, I was looking more disheveled teenage boy. Obviously, you have to be 21 to enter a casino. I'm sure you can imagine what happened next. We had to walk through the casino itself to get to the bar. As soon as we walked in and I saw the ID check lady look me up and down and then throw me the stink eye, I knew I was likely in for a hassle. She went straight for me and said "You look pretty young, let me see that ID." As I was getting out my wallet, she continued, half like she was trying to joke with me and half like she was irritated, "You look like a kid walking in here." I handed her my driver's license. She looked back up at me with a skeptical look on her face and shook her head. She either didn't notice the fact that my driver's license says "female" or did not seem to draw any obvious conclusions from that fact.
"You don't look that old." She said flatly.
A lot of folks might take something like that as a compliment, but in this case it came across more like an accusation. What was I supposed to say? I shrugged and took back my ID as she reluctantly waved me in. It didn't become a real issue - clearly, she let me through - but what if she hadn't? I suppose I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. And then rant about it on my handy gender blog.
Where will Invisible Queer go next? Who knows, but I do have a work conference coming up next month. Maybe someone will mistake me for my colleague's son or Justin Bieber's union organizer alter ego again. Won't that be fun.