The Pink Duck of Permission

Watching "F is for Fake" took me back, yet again (I'm having this time distortion experience in this class, which seems oddly appropriate) to the year I went to school in Hawaii, which year has now become obscured in my less-than-perfect memory, but seems to be '87-'88, or maybe '88-'89. Watching Oja strut her stuff, or rather, watching her butt and legs for several ponderous minutes while men (supposedly) looked on reminded me of the following experience.

I was shopping with friends in Waikiki when we saw a vision of beauty about a block away. This vision was tall and lanky, walked with a sultry gait, had long blonde hair and was wearing nothing but a bright pink bikini and spike-heeled slides. The hair waved back and forth jauntily across the vision's backside. The imacculately shaved legs moved together tightly in a suggestive manner. The hands stood out from the hips, delicately, as the vision moved. Abruptly, the vision turned at the corner to cross the street, and as one my friends and I came to a complete halt. The vision had a beard... not a woman beard, but a full-out hippy style beard. Yes, the vision was a man. Upon asking around, we discovered the vision's name was Waikiki Bob, and he was a well-known fixture of the street scene there.

This is a true story. (As true as they get...)

Anyway, I kept expecting Oja to be other than female.