such as proximity of the shop to other business establishments, whether my friend's GG was known there, and other factors.

I narrowed the field down to three shops, and my friend's GG phoned and got their prices and some relative information about appointment availability. Then my brother screwed up our courage and phoned one: you can probably guess the reaction! First they said they didn't know how to style men's hair and that he should go to a barbershop. He then explained that he wanted a feminine style, that he was not gay, and that he hoped they did not want to violate the Civil Rights Laws by discrim- inating against him because of sex! Well, that last apparently did it, because the girl immediately changed her attitude and asked when he would like to come in, and a 3:30 P.M. time was agreed upon. I don't think the public accommodations portions of the Federal civil rights laws really mention sex (the employment portions do, however) but they didn't seem to know this, and so our small bluff worked.

I had previously scouted the shop one night as to parking, unpleasant distractions or dangers, etc. Since our state has citizen access to license tag information, I planned to remove my license tag and replace it with a hand-lettered "tag lost" sign (which is common, but quasi-legal in my state) so that any really nosey person wouldn't be able to identify me or my brother from our car's license tag.

We also had the minor but real problem that it wouldn't look too good for a tall man with an elaborately styled coiffure to arrive in broad (no pun intended!) daylight at my friends' home, especially since it is quite adjacent to neighbors on both sides who, this time of year, this day of the week, and this time of the day are most apt to be outside barbecueing, drinking beer, mowing the grass, or tending children, etc., etc., etc.! Borrowing a couple of walkie-talkies solved this: my brother would park a block away, call on the radio, and receive "coast is clear" message prior to pulling up in their driveway, hopping out, and ducking into their door. Incidentally, all this was "dry-run" a few days ahead of the Big Day, too!

My brother had already arranged to be off work, and finally the time came on Friday. Traffic was heavy, so he arrived at the shop about 3:45, worried that they might have cancelled the appointment. Whether they had thought the whole thing a joke and that he wouldn't show up, or whether they simply forgot, I don't know, but they did not immediately realize why he was there, and mistook him for some sort of salesman. When he began to apologize for being late for our appointment, they

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