This past Saturday afternoon, my Inbound freight manager, a beautiful woman by the name of Dana, and I boarded a plane in Charlotte, NC, headed for Phoenix, AZ. Beyond our good timing at escaping the bizarre ritualistic festival surrounding Billy Graham’s funeral in Charlotte, we were headed to Phoenix for the annual RILA gathering which was scheduled there this year

RILA, or the Retail Industry Leaders Association, holds an annual conference for retail and supply chain companies, and a group of six of us were headed out to represent Belk Stores. Dana and I went out a day earlier than the rest of the group as we had meetings starting Saturday evening with dinner in the Compass Lounge, the revolving restaurant atop the 24th floor of the Hyatt, our hotel.

The trip was going great, I made a lot of very good contacts, met some very nice people, hopefully resolved some issues we have been having at Belk, and was having a great time doing it. Of course, being in my position means being wined and dined by carriers and other vendors, so Dana and I were the center of a good deal of attention the entire time. Attention because of who I am and what I do for a living - not what I am, which was truly a nice change. And let me tell you, at 5’11”, walking around in skirt suits and heels (putting me at 6’2”) tends to make you noticeable; especially in an industry which tends to be dominated by men.

Sunday I treated Dana to about five hours in Scottsdale, walking through the Arts District and Old Scottsdale - shopping, enjoying the warm sunny weather, sharing a bottle of wine and a light afternoon snack, and enjoying the beauty of the area. We returned for another dinner meeting, and stopped in the hotel bar for a nightcap when we returned. A nightcap which stretched out into a wonderful two hours meeting some very special new friends - and my first drink ever from a gentleman, who was sitting at the other end of the bar! A true milestone to cap off a wonderful evening, which ended around midnight with a promise to meet our new friends, and potential business partners, the next day at the convention - and the rest of the ladies the next evening for drinks and dancing.

So Monday was another successful day, which rolled into dinner with YRC Corporation as their President and his staff plied us with food and wine, after which we returned to the hotel bar to find it taken over by a private party. It seems that the Port Authority of Tampa, FL, was hosting a party to which they were more than willing to invite two more ladies for free drinks and dancing. They had cleared a dance floor and had a pretty decent DJ working. We reached out to our new friends from the night before, who soon joined us, and soon enough they had dragged my very tired behind onto the dance floor. Another first for me. We danced and laughed, closing the party down at midnight - but as no one was ready to call it a night we decided to switch venues.

We were invited to join the Port of Tampa folks at another bar a few blocks walk from the hotel, and decided to do so. That’s where the whole trip caved in on me.

We arrived at the bar where we joined the rest of the group, ordered a round of drinks, and then we ladies decided it was time to avail ourselves of the restroom. I have to say that this place had the most unique ladies room I have ever seen, but that’s a story for another time. We soon rejoined the group and our drinks arrived shortly after. One of my new friends from the night before, Sara, who works for the Florida East Coast Railway, decided to buy a few bottles of Moët to celebrate. When they arrived, we were joking around about getting some orange juice to make Mimosas, when a little man on the other side of the table from me made a comment about how he knew I was a man in women’s clothing, and some other inane drivel.

I looked right at him and asked him to repeat what he had said - all talk at the table stopped as evidently I said it somewhat forcefully. He repeated his comment to me. I just looked at him and said, “Seriously?”

And he made some comment like, “Yeah, but you must get off on it or something......” - to which I replied with a swift, “Fuck you!”, got up from the table, told everyone I was done for the evening and to have fun, and proceeded to walk out the door while the uproar started behind me. I got about 20 feet beyond the door before the tears started and by the time I was halfway down the block I was sobbing so badly I had to stop walking as I couldn’t see where I was going. Within moments I was surrounded by four women hugging me and holding me.

They talked me into going back to the bar as apparently my detractor was being read the riot act by the rest of the group. Unfortunately, by the time we got back, the bar was closing (at 1:00 AM believe it or not), so we grabbed our champagne and moved on. The bartender suggested another bar that was open until 2:00 AM and was only two blocks away. It seems now as though our little group had grown by three more as apparently I have made another three new girlfriends in the aftermath of the incident. I met more truly wonderful people last night during the course of this whole fiasco, and for that I am truly grateful.Yet even in light of that, this one little incident ruined my entire trip; it took one of the best weekends of my life and destroyed it, crushing my spirit with it.

You see, it had been nearly 18 months since anyone had said anything to me like that, since anyone had treated me like that. But even after 18 months, that one little bastard had the means to crush my soul. His ignorance and bigotry were enough to send me plummeting into depression.

I spent most of last night curled up in bed crying. Two of my friends, one old and one new, stayed with me until after 4:00AM to make sure I was OK. I never did fall asleep, getting up at 7:00AM to make myself presentable for another round of seminars, meetings, and making new contacts in the industry. But it’s just not the same anymore. The beautiful city of Phoenix will forever be tainted for me.