The next evening at the all-night cafeteria, Ed found a few of the drivers sitting around shooting the bull. At the center of the table was Criswell, whom the drivers started referring to as The Amazing Criswell, because of all his great advice. Also at the table was Bela, who Ed knew from the movie business, before Bela's heroin jag landed him in the garage. Also there was Bunny--who always made Ed feel comfortable by dressing even more outlandishly than he did--Connie and Paul. Criswell was telling a story when Ed pulled up to the front door.
"Eye shadow, mascara, lipstick--and rouge."
"Zat is blush-on," said Bela.
"Blush-on?" asked Criswell.
"Yes, ze kind vith de brush. Zat's blush-on. My vife of thirty years, just left me this month. ...She used it."
The group notices Ed by his blonde wig, and angora sweater. He approaches their table, and sits down.
"Hey, Eddie! Ask Eddie, he's a ladies man," said Bela.
"Anyway, whatever the fuck it is, she uses a lot of it, you know," Criswell continued. "And perfume, spray kind...and get this, in the middle of the Triboro Bridge--and this woman is beautiful--get this, she pulls out a crystal ball."
"No vay!" said Bela.
"Yes--she's a medium too! I mean, it's love, you know? Then, she takes off her wig, and I see that she's really a man...named Jean Claude." said Criswell, smiling ear to ear.
"So what did you do?" asked Connie.
"I threw the meter, and I hopped in the backseat, I whipped it out, and I said... 'I predict you will have seventeen orgasms with me.'"
The entire table erupts in applause, which Criswell accepts with great fanfare.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you."
Ed orders some coffee from the waitress, and looks despondently at his feet.
"Ed, you know Bela the cop, and Bunny B. We call him Bela the cop, because he'll do anything to cop some H."
"Eddie, do you have change for a nickel?" chimed Bela, good naturedly.
"How's it hanging? I predict it's hanging well," asked Criswell.
Ed adjusted his manhood in his pantyhose, and thought about whether Criswell meant that figuratively or literally. Assuming the former, he simply gave up a barely audible, "fine.... Except, I was hearing on the radio that some crazy fucker knifed a guy because he thought he was a homosexual. But it turns out he was just a transvestite."
"Crazy vorld," said Bela.
"Where was this?" asked Bunny.
"Out by the Crank Shaft club," responded Ed.
"Fuckin' Mau Mau land," responded Bunny.
Bela pulled up closer to Ed. "Eddie, you go all over, don't you?"
"What?"
"You go all over ze vorld, don't you?"
"Yeah," said Ed.
"You carry a movie camera?" asked Bela.
"No."
"You vant one?"
"No," answered Ed, sternly.
"I know a fella, who could get'chu a nice deal, Eddie. Zare is lots of stuff around."
"I predict," added Criswell. "That your movie career is far from over, Edward D. Wood, Jr."
After the meal, the drivers all began to break up and leave the cafeteria. Bela lags behind and approaches Ed. "Eddie...I have somezing to show you Eddie. It's a piece of Boris Karloff's bathtub. You see here? Ze vatermarks? Here iz vun person--zat cocksucker Karloff--here iz two persons, and here iz three persons. I got zis at his bungalow on the Univerzal lot tventy-years-ago.... Maybe you vant to take it, and get vhat you can for it? I split vith you fifty-fifty, vhat do you say?"
"No, thank you, Bela."
"But Eddie...I'm so broke, Eddie."
"Sorry, Bela."
Ed walked off into the night air, leaving Bela to contemplate where his next fix was coming from. Ed got into his cab, and drove back to his one room apartment to plan his outfit for tomorrow.
Today, Ed would take no chances on being rejected. He'd wear men's clothes to be safe. He made his way down to the Mercury Theater, dressed in a smart burgundy blazer and checkered shirt. No one could suspect that underneath his normal exterior was a lace bra and panties. Ed marched straight through the front door, and right up to Kathy's desk, where she was talking with Dr. Tom.
"I'd like to volunteer," said Ed with authority.
"Great," said Dr. Tom. "Just follow me over here and--"
"Thanks, but I'd rather volunteer to her, if you don't mind."
Dr. Tom walked away suspiciously, and slowly, as Kathy sized Ed up.
"Why do you feel that you have to volunteer to me?" said Kathy, coyly.
"Because I feel that you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen," said Ed, behind his charming, toothy grin.
"Thanks...but what do you think of Welles?" asked Kathy.
"Well, I loved him ever since I saw Citizen Kane. You know he was twenty-six when he made that. I'm almost thirty!"
"Really? So am I," said Kathy.
"Well, isn't that amazing?" said Ed hopefully.
"That is amazing.... Well, if you would just walk over to Dr. Tom, he'll sign you up and--"
"See, I drive a cab at night, so it's kind of hard to work during the day."
"Then what do you want?" asked Kathy.
"Would you like to go to a carnival and spook house with me?" asked Ed.
"Why?"
"Why? I'll tell you why. Because I think we have a lot in common. I pass by here in my cab, and I see a lot of people around you, and I see all these phones, and all these papers, and it all means nothing because they have nothing in common with you. Why, I'll bet that the first movie you ever saw was Dracula with Bela Lugosi. I'll bet you slept with the lights on for the whole week after you saw it. But you never missed a Lugosi picture after that."
Kathy gave Ed an amazed look. He had obviously summed her up, and she also knew that Ed knew it too. "I have a break at four o'clock, and if you're here--."
"Four o'clock? I'll be here," said Ed with glee.
"I'll bet you will," said Kathy with a giggle.
"Oh," Ed said, putting out his hand. "I'm Edward D.Wood, Jr."
"Kathy..." she responded, coyly.
Their eyes locked, and they shared a moment of silence while shaking hands. Ed coasted out of the office to kill time before their first date. At four o'clock, Ed was right in front of the office. He just had time to remember to remove his earrings, before she came out the front door.
I took Kathy to the Wacky Willie carnival and spook house, out in Rye, New York. I had some ladyfingers and a coke with no ice. I thought that was a good choice. She had some cotton candy with a piece of melted cheese, but she could have had anything she wanted.
"Orson Welles is going to be a big part of the political world from now on. Do you know that FDR once asked Orson to make speeches all over the U.S. That's why he's appearing here next month. He's going to reawaken his political career. Of course it's hard keeping so many people together."
"Yeah, I have the same problem. I gotta get organized. Little things like my clothes and shoes. My angora sweaters alone are--"
"Oh, you mean like those closet organizers?"
"You have very beautiful eyes," Ed said, seriously.
Kathy laughed, and tried not to seem too titillated.
"You know, they remind me of a unique shade of fur on specially bred rabbits in the Himalayas," Ed said proudly. "That's where angora comes from."
"Say what are you, an angora wholesaler?"
"No. I'm an insomniac, alcoholic, misanthrope, and taxi driver."
"Oh, you're pulling my leg. Nobody does all that."
"Sure they do, two people..." Ed paused dramatically, "Bela Lugosi and me."
"Wow," said Kathy, smiling.
They each ate their food for a while in silence, enjoying each other's casual company. Ed eyed Kathy's stockings with envy, and got caught looking, but luckily she took this as a compliment.
"Oh, the spook house! C'mon!" shrieked Ed.
The two ran, hand in hand, up the steps and into one of the small train cars. The train began snaking through a cave, and out popped monsters, skeletons, and even a life-size mannequin of Bela in his youth. Then, right in the middle of the ride, the power suddenly went dead. There were a few uneasy seconds before Ed had the nerve to take a chance.
"Kathy?" asked Ed.
"Yes?"
"...I like to dress in women's clothes."
"What?"
"I like to dress in women's clothes. I can't believe I'm telling you this, but I really like you and I don't want it getting in the way down the road."
"Does this mean you don't like sex with girls?" asked Kathy, anxiously.
"No, I love sex with girls. I just like to wear the diaphragm," answered Ed.
"Well...OK," Kathy said with resolve.
"OK?" asked Ed, unbelievingly. "Do you want to go to a movie with me?"
"I have to get back to work."
"No, I mean, like another time?"
"Sure...and do you know what you remind me of?"
"What?" said Ed, intrigued.
"That song...by...Basil Fomeene and his orchestra. 'He's a boy, not a girl, he's got me in a whirl, hey Mom, that girl is my man.'"
"You're saying that about me? I'm not a girl. I never was a girl."
"No, not that part. Just the part about having me in a whirl. You do."
"Oh," said Ed, proudly, as the power started up again, and led them past more man-made horrors.
I called Kathy at her office and she said that maybe we'd go to a movie together tomorrow after she gets off work. At first she hesitated, but then I read some of my comic book to her over the phone and she agreed. Kathy? Kathy what? I forgot to ask her last name again. Damn, I have to remember stuff like that.
At work again, Ed stopped at the Biltmore Hotel. He picked up two gentlemen in suits and took them to the Plaza Hotel. Upon looking in the rear view, Ed noticed that one of the men was Orson Welles. The two men were deep in conversation. Ed listened for a while, waiting for a chance to jump in.
"I don't think we have to worry about crowd control--" said the skinny man.
"I'm not concerned about crowd control," said Orson, "I'm concerned about the five pounds I put on over this weekend."
"Excuse me," said Ed, anxiously. "Mr. Welles?"
"Yes?" responded Orson.
"Well, I used to be a filmmaker, and I'm a really big fan. I just wanted to shake your hand."
"Thank you, I'm Orson Welles."
"Edward D. Wood, Jr.--I can't wait for your speech sir. Everyone I know is going to hear it," said Ed.
"Thank you. Politics is a new arena for me. Let me ask you a question, Ed. What's the one thing you would change about this country?"
"I don't know, sir," said Ed uneasily. "I don't follow politics that closely."
"There must be something...?" Orson urged.
"Well, sir...I just think that you, or whoever becomes president, should just make a law so that everybody could wear whatever he or she wants, you know? Like sometimes I want to wear a tutu, but I know I'll get beat up, so I have to wear it under my pants. Or sometimes I want to wear an evening gown and pumps, and everyone thinks that makes me a fruit. Just, whoever becomes president should make it OK to be a transvestite, you know?"
"Well--I--uh, think I know what you mean, Ed. But it's not going to be easy. We're all going to have to make some...radical changes."
"Damn straight," added Ed.
"Just remember, Ed. Dresses are worth fighting for. Why spend your life wearing someone else's clothes?"
Ed pulled up at the Plaza Hotel, and put the cab in park. His bulging eyes screaming of an epiphany, as he stares star-struck to Orson. "Thank you...Orson."
Ed pulled up in front of the live sex show on Ninth Avenue. No sooner does he put the cab in park, than the beautiful Miss Vampira gets into his cab. Ed recognizes her from the old days, but she's oblivious.
"Get me out of here, pleasssse?" said Miss Vampira.
Ed turned to her, with genuine pity. She didn't look that good, and he noticed the same tracks on her legs as ran roughshod over Bela's arms. She slurred her speech, the result of a chipped tooth, and seemed to be in a haze.
"Miss Vampira," said Ed, with a lump in his throat. At that moment the door opened again, and a gentleman in a wide brimmed hat stuck his arm in and grabbed Vampira. Ed recognized him. It was Tor. He was a lot heavier, and had long black hair now, but it was Tor alright.
"C'mon, Baby. Dis is a real drag. Let's go! I'm taking charge!" said Tor, pulling Vampira out.
"No, leave me alone, Sssssport. I wanna go back to Channel Sssseven," Vampira whimpered.
"C'mon, don't make me upset," said Tor, now digging into his pocket. "Bitch, be cool!" He pulled out a long pair of nylon stockings. He dropped them on the front passenger seat. "Here you go driver. Dis will go good with Dat outfit. I like! Just forget about dis."
The nylons were wrinkled, and Ed left them right where they were. He looked out the back window as Vampira and her captor faded into the night. Ed drove aimlessly, as the nightlife played out its sick carnage before him. It was early morning when Ed got back into the garage, but he still couldn't get Miss Vampira out of his mind. He parked the cab, collected his money, and toyed with leaving the nylons in the car. Not sure who had the shift after him, though, he thought it best to pick up the nylons and put them with his other tips.
Ed went home and tried to grab a nap. He knew he wouldn't sleep, but he did shower and change for his date. With Kathy's progressive attitude to buoy him, he put on his smart burgundy blazer, white shirt, tie, tan skirt, and heels. He walked the city streets as if in slow motion, the impending date's many possibilities playing themselves out over and over in his mind.
Ed picked Kathy up at her apartment. She looked beautiful, and he presented her with a recording of Basil Fomeene and his orchestra's rendition of "That Girl is My Man."
"You didn't even listen to this?" asked Kathy.
"No, my phonograph doesn't work now," said Ed. "I was hoping we could listen to it on yours."
Kathy smiled as they walked through the city streets. They passed a street musician who was playing the harmonium, while a transvestite belly dancer did the dance of the seven veils. Ed threw a ten-dollar bill into his/her upturned fez.
Ed and Kathy came to stop at the Lyric Theater. The marquee read "I Changed My Sex Festival." Kathy moved up to the glass covered posters and read the credits for "Glen or Glenda" and "Jailbait."
"Your name is on these," she said.
"Yeah, but I lost the rights, so I don't make a nickel."
"These are all your films?"
"Yeah, they only run at this theater here in the Village. They've been running here for ten months. I love New York."
"Is this a gay movie?" asked Kathy, cautiously.
"No, no, they're just transvestites," said Ed reassuringly.
Walking inside, Kathy was still a little scared, but figured she'd give Ed the benefit of the doubt. She took her seat next to him as Glen or Glenda played on the screen. Ed sat with pride, and a big smile on his face, as he mouthed along with every word said on the screen, in a barely audible tone.
"Glen's problem is a deep one...but he must tell her...soon. She's beginning to notice things...his nails...his eyes when he looks into a ladies' store window...so many of the little things that are hard to hide. Soon she will realize," whispered Ed, in sync with the movie, deep in a trance, a smile plastered on his face.
Kathy watched Ed, rapt, not believing her eyes and ears. Ed had told her about his transvestitism, but seeing it play out on the screen with its creator right next to her was too much for Kathy. It was creepy, to say the least, deeply disturbing to say the most. She began to feel ill, but Ed was oblivious in his own celluloid world.
"Then there was the time Barbara was wearing the sweater Glen had always wanted to feel on his own body; it was becoming an obsession to him. He must have it...." Ed continued whispering, with greater passion, as his eyes bugged out.
Kathy hopped out of her seat, and ran out of the theater. It took a second or two to break the spell of watching his own work but, once he did, Ed followed after. He caught up with Kathy outside, under the marquee.
"Kathy, where are you going?"
"I have to leave now."
"Why?" asked Ed.
"I don't like these movies," Kathy said, weakly.
Ed responded, "Lots of couples come here. All kinds of guys."
"I don't know why I went in. These movies are terrible. Are these the only kind of movies you made?" cried Kathy.
"Well, yeah, I made them. They--they weren't all this good, but yeah."
"Taking me to these movies is about as impressive to me as saying, 'I make shit for a living.'"
"I didn't know that you'd feel this way about the movies, Kathy. I mean, there are other movies I could take you to. I didn't make them, but I could take you to them. I just, I don't know what they are."
"We're just different," said Kathy, as she began walking away. Ed grabbed her arm, but couldn't hold her.
"Let go!" she said, as she increased her pace. Ed tried to catch up to her, but his heels slowed him down.
"Wait a second! Wait a second! Don't walk away--wait a--"
"Get off of me! I have to go powder my nose," Kathy said, getting in to a taxi.
"Well, will you at least take the record?" cried Ed, plaintively.
"I've already got it!" With that, the cab sped off into the night.
Ed watched it leave before realizing too late, "I've--I've got a powder puff!"
Copyright © 2000 James J. Smith.