Regulars
DARE!
LAUNCH HACK

I primed myself with a couple of beers and got ready to Do The Deed. Dressed in near-sheer black stockings, the dress that got me mistaken for a drag queen at Wigstock '95, and my good, sturdy 10-eye Docs, I prepared for my tasks. I wore my long black coat over this getup and in one of the top inner-liner pockets I stashed the DAT machine that was to record that I was actually doing to do this insanity. I clipped the little black microphone to the collar of my dress, threw my fuzzy bright-orange scarf over all of this to hide it, buttoned my coat in other to show the maximum amount of stocking-clad leg and traipsed off on my merry old way to run the day's errands. Thank God it was the middle of winter so that I could effectively manage to hide all the shit that they insisted upon wiring me with. Try hiding a three-pound DAT recorder and a couple of feet of microphone wire in a skimpy little sundress pocket.

Re-enactment The crowning touch to this getup was my shades. Sunglasses have a remarkable tendency to allow you to get away with all amounts of shit. This is probably because they cover a pretty decent portion of your face, especially your eyes, which for me is at least a pretty vulnerable area. The person who taught me all of this was an ex-boyfriend who was very into paramilitary training. When we weren't getting drunk together in the town cemetery, he used to like to play little wargames with flashlights and stuff. At night, always wearing his shades. "The light shines in your eyes first," he'd say, frenetically. "That's the easiest way for the enemy to hunt you down." Now, five years later, at least I can say I've gleaned something useful out of that relationship. Thanks for the sunglasses tip, Kev!

In fact, no cabbie shone a flashlight at me during TaxiHack '96. One tried to drive off with me still inside (fucking cheapskate, for a $2.25 fare!), one grumbled at me being only able to come up with fifty cents ("Give me what you've got, then!"), and another just screamed at me for supposedly "forgetting my wallet", but I never had that flashlight beam shine in my eyes. Perhaps this is because I did this during the day when the beam would have been unnecessary, if not to say ineffective. But the glasses still served their purpose. Looking at those freak drivers in the front seat through an extra layer of darkly-tinted plastic sure made this dare feel a lot more comfortable.

Got a truth or dare for Alissa? Send them in to TorD@stim.com!
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