As I mentioned in the other thread (Friday should be interesting), I spent all day yesterday kilted. As I suspected, it was interesting. I wore my Stewart Black SWK, day sporran, kilt hose, flashes.

It started bright and early, between the front door and my truck. A little tuner Honda Civic (Fast and the Furious wanna-be) screeches to a halt in front of the driveway. Tinted window rolls down to reveal a couple of young, Mexican youths, gold chains, etc.

One of them yells "Is that a kilt, man?"
"Yes it is."
That's cool, man." Window rolls back up, car screeches off.

Got nothing but good comments at the meeting. One of the girls recognized the tartan. She had to tell me about her husband's clan. I got my picture taken several times, and had to give an impromptu lecture on kilts (This was a librarian's meeting, after all), with q&a following. Only one person at the meeting made a feigned grab at the kilt (and it was a guy). No one asked "The Question".

After the meeting, I headed for downtown Prescott, where I was meeting Red_Raven_Studios for dinner with some of her coworkers and some jazz at the Raven Cafe. I parked in the city parking garage, which left me a three block walk to RRS' office. Two comments on the walk.

Prescott College is in the same area, so the area is full of college kids. As I passed a young man and his girlfriend, he says "He's wearing a dress." She tells him "It's a kilt, you dummy."

Then a kid, maybe 11 or 12 wolf whistled at me, but not until we had passed each other.

Got some good natured razzing from RRS' coworkers over who wears the pants in the family. Then it was off to Gurley Street Grill for dinner. Just inside the door were two elderly ladies.

"Oh, I just love your kilt," one of them gushed. The other one had different things on her mind.

"There's a question you ask men in kilts," she starts. Her friend shushed her.
"Don't ask him that!" By the time they had gotten sorted out, we were seated at the bar.

The bar at Gurley Street Grill is a rectangular island, with seats on three sides. Towards the end of the meal, I was talking to the bartender about scotch. A guy on the far side of the bar heard us and came over to join the conversation. I heard all about how he and his wife had just gotten back from Scotland. After he went back around the bar, his wife had to come over, because he couldn't tell her which tartan I was wearing.

Later, at the Raven Cafe, I'm headed for the men's room and I hear some women tell her boyfriend/husband "See? He's wearing his kilt!"

Finished up at another bar (country type, with a southern rock band playing). We ended up sitting at the edge of the dance floor. The female lead singer/guitar player for the band announces the end of the set...

"I don't know about you, but we're gonna get a smoke and a beer, and I love your kilt (this over the microphone, so the whole club can hear). What are you wearing under it?"

It was a good evening.