All the local Rainbow grocery stores are plastered with posters for the Cops on Top fundraiser. On our way out, Mister Anti-Authoritarian said, “I wish the cops would stay on top of the rainbow.” And right then, I was reminded of Officer Andy.

The venerable institutions for which I slung pizza followed the usual restaurant policy of feeding policemen for free. (At that time — the early-mid 90s — I don’t believe there were any female cops in the city. If there were, they weren't in my areas.) Lots of cops were regulars, but the small queer contingent was even more regular at our establishment. Family feeds family, after all. Among them was Officer Andy, who was smart, sweet, and very, very hot. He looked like a 50's recruitment poster of the Ideal Policeman: tall, slim, black hair, fair skin, blue eyes. Not too tall, not too short. Not too fat, not too thin. Just right. Needless to say, our guys loved a man in uniform.

The trouble was, Andy himself wasn’t particularly fond of his uniform. So one day, he up and quit the force. After a brief period of reflection, he launched a second career as Officer Andy the Avon Lady and built a substantial clientele among the drag community in the city. In fairly short order, he was doing far better than he ever did as a cop. The last I saw him was years ago in the University bookstore, where he was buying a stack of textbooks for his much-younger boyfriend.