It was in late September of 2017 when a friend on Facebook asked if I would like to join her and two other gurls on a trip to Las Vegas. I hesitated but thought how bad could it be? I could always bring some jeans and a T-shirt to change into if I really wanted to not be dressed. After a few days of worry and thinking about it, I decided Vegas it would be and booked my flights and hotel room. I was going to go to Vegas and be crossdressed as a sissy while there.
With about a week to go, I had cold feet. I’d worry about 1,001 things and what to expect from myself crossdressing so far from home. This was a huge step outside of my comfort zone. Messaging with the others built up my courage as they had been doing the same trip for years. My confidence returned, and I’d passed the point of any refund, so I was going. But was I really going if I had some male clothes for an escape; the answer is a BIG no. I prepared my luggage for the trip, filling my case with dresses, wigs, shoes and all the other things a gurl would need. By the time I packed my suitcase full, there wasn’t any room for jeans and a T-Shirt, let alone a pair of male shoes.
Two days to go, do I go all in and travel as a Sissy also? Two of the others have flown in Sissy dresses and said it was not a big problem (they live dressed 24/7). Living in Canada I would have homeland security and TSA to deal with. Some research on both, and there is no reason to deny my passage. With a few days to go, I make the decision to go all out. I will be getting dressed and made up as Nicki before I leave home and remain a sissy until I return home.
The big day comes, and after a restless night, my alarm clock goes off, and it’s showtime. My heart is pounding. Twice I leave the bathroom to get some male clothes, but return. I look at my travel clothes; a navy blue sailor dress with matching panties; yes I am going to do this. I pull up my panties, and it just becomes routine to finish dressing. Although the clock is ticking down, I make sure my makeup is done nicely. Brush out my wig, do a twirl, and with that my bags are put into the car and away I go. I drive out of the garage with no regrets; this is my time to be a gurl.
The early morning traffic is light. I am at the border and expecting the third degree, but this is not the case. I answer a few simple questions, and then I’m in the US and on the way to the airport. I sat in the car for a good five minutes; this is most assuredly the point of no return. Without a single male garment with me, I either go into the terminal in my dress or go home. Another deep breath, I get out of the car, get my suitcase and walk to the terminal. I can feel the eyes staring at me but I don’t care. I check my suitcase and head to the next challenge—TSA as a gurl. I get in line and when it’s finally my turn I get a female TSA officer as I am presenting myself as female. I get a thorough pat down, (some issues with the contents of my carry-on,) but after 10 minutes I am through.
Forty-five minutes until my flight leaves and my nerves are shot. I go to the restaurant and order breakfast, slowly eaten as I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. I choke down half my meal, a hot cup of tea, and glass of water until our flight number is called and we begin boarding. I go to the ladies’ room and head to the gate. My mind still thinks of how to back out while the gurl in me is thrilled. Here I am, about to fly to Vegas, and fully dressed up in a sissy dress so short that it doesn’t fully cover my panties. My section is called, and with a bounce in my step, I walk towards the plane. The picture is of me on the plane ready to go… Vegas, Here I come!
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