By Norah Blucher
No talk of cheap vodka shots today and no, I did not do a bad bikini shave. No, I’m referring to military jet engines of all things. Now you may be wondering what the bloody hell the testosterone inducing thrust of a jet engine has to do with femulation, but all I can say is that sometimes my femulation takes me to unexpected heights.
I recently wrote about being mistaken for a flight attendant and though I found it right flattering, being a flight attendant is not exactly something I ever thought about. Truth be told, at one time little Norah actually wanted to be a fighter pilot! Yes, when Top Gun came out it had me convinced that was what I wanted to do. I also wanted to be a girl and I do not think at that time many militaries allowed women to fly and certainly not combat missions. At my young age though, I do not think I recognized the two as mutually exclusive.
So not long ago, I found myself back in Hartford, Connecticut, with some time to burn on a Saturday afternoon and decided that the New England Air Museum was a great place to go because every girl wants to get dolled-up and look at a bunch of planes, right? LOL
I have to say I actually hesitated a bit in the parking lot. I’d been here once before and had not noted a lot of women, but I decided why not and headed into the danger zone.
Turn and Burn!
I bought my ticket from two younger GGs at the front desk and entered the first of several large hangers that compose the museum. The first containing military aircraft of all sorts: modern fighters, WWII bombers and an impressive array of helicopters, too! It had actually had a few additions since I had been there last (en homme) and I was glad I went. Looking around I noted mostly blokes or females with families, but no one seemed to notice a lone female.
At one point I found a display with a training cockpit off to the side that was there for people to actually climb in. Undeterred and with no one else around, I climbed in!
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| Talk to me Goose! Ace Norah Blucher, flying the not so friendly skys, looking for bogeys. |
Now before anyone gets too excited, I’ll just say I was dressed very casually on a rainy weekend afternoon. I wore some flared jeans with a wool bell sleeve sweater and some low block heeled Mary Janes. Still a right bit dressier than most of the females in their sweatshirts and sneakers, but still under the radar and blending. Note that I had been here before and my memory served me correct in recalling lots of metal staircases to climb up and look inside planes, hence jeans it was and those shoes are notably quiet. I recalled the concrete floors and open hangers and though it would have sounded amazing in court shoes, I was not looking to be a display myself.
Exiting the cockpit, I saw a young family approach and a young girl ran up the stairs and dove into the cockpit having the time of her life. I was looking at the neighboring display and as I went to leave, I walked past the mother of this girl and jokingly noted that she should be careful or her daughter might leave with a whole new career idea.
The mom then got a very excited look on her face and said how wonderful that would be! I laughed and found it refreshing that she clearly had no misgivings about her daughter doing something like that and would be so supportive. Perhaps I was born just a bit too early.
I’ve wondered from time to time what to wear out to here or there, but never actually thought about what to wear to Mars. The question was answered for me though, in addition to many others in the newly constructed “Women in Flight” display in a corridor between two hangers. It was set up as a very interesting timeline of female pilots with a focus on women from New England.
I had not been there long when an elderly woman approached me and asked if I had seen this before. Noting I had not, she then asked if I wanted a tour and I agreed. So we went on a little tour where she explained all the displays to me, emphasizing the importance of each to the history of females in flight.
It was not lost on me how she kept referring to “us,” as in fellow females, making statements like “back then we would have faced scrutiny if we wanted to do this or that.” She was being inclusive for sure, which I appreciated, though I must admit it made me feel a bit guilty, too, as I could easily go about the world disguised as a male if I wanted. As a femulator, I face a discrimination that is not all that different though, and just accepted her inclusiveness as a great compliment!
The two things I found most interesting were the displays of female advertising that depicted female pilots as the rock stars of their day, promoting everything from hosiery to cigarettes. The other was a small card – one of the first pilots’ licenses issued to a woman, signed by one of the Wright Brothers! My tour guide explained that he (I can not recall if it was Orville or Wilbur) had refused to give instruction to her or any other female, believing women should not be pilots. He was however the representative in the states for an international pilot organization and as an issuer of licenses, felt it his duty, his own beliefs aside, to issue a license to a female if she obtained the proper instruction elsewhere.
At the conclusion of our little tour, my guide admitted she was a former school teacher and had no knowledge of any of this before starting this job a short while ago. She asked how she did and I told her she did a lovely job and was a smashing tour guide. With that, she threw her head back and laughed, noting she just loved the word smashing, LOL.
Before entering the next hanger, I also strolled through another room dedicated to the Polish pilots who escaped Poland after it fell to the Nazis in WWII and then flew with the British Royal Air Force. It was an impressive display for sure with British and Polish uniforms, models of Super Marine Spitfires, Hawker Hurricanes and even an actual Rolls Royce Merlin engine from a Spitfire! This was also the engine that made the American P-51 Mustang the famed aircraft it is known as today. It was actually a rather sub-par plane until they put a Rolls Royce engine in it.
Anyway, it all made me think of Stana, too, and her family being from Poland and I certainly hope she gets over to see all this, if she has not already. Perhaps she can go en femme, and get a tour from the lady who guided me!
The next hanger consisted of all things civilian – non-military, not non-femulators, LOL. Early wooden planes, older commercial aircraft and whatnot. The star of the hanger was a massive, restored flying boat. The type of early aircraft that could cross oceans and though unaffordable to most, paved the way for transcontinental flight. It really was impressive and had seats that looked way more comfortable than anything we get today. They even folded down into beds, the flight to Europe or Asia taking quite a bit longer than today.
What a glamourous way to travel, as I imagined myself (in true Elise fashion) wearing a vintage skirt suit, dressed to the nines to travel across the pond as women of that era did. Perhaps I’d have a really nice flight attendant like Julie Shaw, in her “Betsy” flight attendant outfit and thought what a marvelous time we would have chatting away on such an adventure.
Fat Man and Little Boy
I’m not referring to an odd father and son here. The last hanger left the friendly skies behind and housed a B-29 Super Fortress of atom bomb fame. There were a few smaller planes as well, but the B-29 was the star of this hanger, complete with bomb loading apparati, and models of atom bombs. It was right fascinating for sure, but also had a very ominous feel to it as well.
(Note in my pictures that I’m on balconies giving you a full view of the hanger, but you could in fact walk very close to the displays, a few letting you go inside.)
There was also a door in this hanger that led to an outdoor area containing more planes of various sorts. It was a rather cold, rainy, winter day, so I did not venture out, but made a mental note of this and will use it as an excuse to go back in warmer weather.
I Didn’t Fly Totally under the Radar
Though I did my best to blend in and largely did, I guess I did not go entirely unnoticed. On my way out, I took one last stroll through the first military hanger, passing by two chaps about my age or a bit older. As we passed, one of them stopped and pointed at me, my heart skipping a beat, before he blurted out that he really liked my necklace. I thanked him kindly and he then fiddled with a chain around his neck, pulling out a cross and explaining he had a necklace, too, which his pastor had given him.
I noted that his necklace was lovely as well and also noticed that the other bloke was just shaking his head with a smile, as I caught on that he was this chap’s chaperone. I hope I do not sound horrid or anything, but I got a little nervous at this point. I feared nothing from either of them, but have spent some time working with this cohort before and always noted their complete, though often refreshing, honesty.
Remember that this was a few months ago, when I had not been out and about very long and though spreading my mighty wings, I was still a bit nervous out in the world. I was sort of waiting for him to ask why I was dressed as a woman or why I had a girl’s necklace. My fears were totally unfounded, however. He just kindly jabbered away until his chaperone came over and pulled him away telling him to leave the nice lady alone. I waved goodby, but not before he pointed at my feet and said he liked my shoes, LOL. I think I made a friend or gained an admirer, but I found the whole encounter very sweet.
Coming in for a Landing
On my way out, I made a quick trip into the gift shop. It was mostly toys and children’s things, but way in the back I discovered shelves of older used books. And cheap! Row upon row of books about planes for only a few dollars each! I wanted to fill a bag, but finally decided to get just one that depicted hundreds of photos of “nose art” from WWII bombers.
Such a great day and I was so glad I went. Despite committing a few infractions of the rules, Kelly McGillis sadly did not chase me out of the parking lot and take my breath away, but it was still exciting nonetheless.
I’ve long noted the number of readers here on Femulate who have a military background, so I hope you enjoyed the strange connection here with planes and femulation. And if you’ve ever wondered where you can femulate or are growing tired of the mall, give a not so common place a try. I’d been to this museum once before and returning en femme, had a completely new and different experience. More and more I find myself not looking for places to go or things to do en femme, but rather just doing what I want to do or where I would normally go, just en femme. My femme side is sort of becoming part of my life, not just an alternate and separate thing I do.
Anyway loves, questions and comments are welcome below, or you can email me at nblucher at-sign proton.me.
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Wearing Lamarque |
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| April Jones |
