CHAPTER FIFTEENROD’S
The band retired to Rod’s, an all-night breakfast joint in the French Quarter. Almost all the customers were very tall shemales dressed in harlotry. The “girls” were rowdy as all night can get. They paraded and sang and danced and shouted across the room at each other, mostly good-natured and pretend bitchy. Theatric behavior was tolerated and even encouraged at Rod’s. There was only one rule. It was written in red lipstick on a white poster board near the front door.
“No Food Fights.”
The bacon and coffee air was filled with catcalls and lewd remarks when the band arrived and took their place in line to order. A man dressed as a playboy bunny called out to the band in a deep, booming voice. “Hey cute boys, come on over and talk to me.”
A tall man wearing mesh stoc
