I can recall seeing only one. And it was nearly 23 years ago, on a class trip to Boston. There was this freak loitering around Fanueil Hall-wearing a long skirt, a cardigan sweater, pearl necklace. I put his age around 50. Had on eyeshadow, lipstick. He had tits, or what looked like tits. It could have been just a couple of grapefruits stuffed into a bra. Anyway, I noticed that wherever I went, he was never far away. I was 15, and this was 1999-the gay mafia was far more subtle then, and I still had that youthful naivete. I dismissed him as a cross dresser at first, but when it became obvious that he was checking me out, I turned to face him and said very clearly, very loudly "STOP FOLLOWING ME." The fucking faggot blinked a little, seemingly surprised. He paused, as if about to speak, but just walked away.