White is the new Black

May 18, 2005 - 8:27 p.m.

I’m still going on about this vacation, cuz you know, so much shit happened. When we arrived in New York, coming home from Cairo, we had missed our flight so we had to wait all day and fly stand-by. Every flight was full so I pretty much slept on the floor, snoring and drooling and hoping that no one would rob me. I started to get cranky, as every hour my pilot woke me up to a potential flight, only to get denied. I thought unconsciousness was the best option at the time, so I didn’t get bitchy and make him wanna commit femicide.

We could have gone to the employee lounge and slept like nobody’s business, but that would have involved passing through metal detectors each time, taking off shoes, and dragging luggage. We had to “check-in” every hour as a stand-by so hell if I was gonna schlep back and forth every few minutes. Instead, I just pulled up some filthy floor and slept right next to the check-in lady.

Damn. Did you know about these employee lounges? Each airline has its own lounge area, tucked away in the far reaches of the terminals, past S’barro, with a secret door behind the broken coke machine. We visited a few them, I can’t even remember which airports, and it was this enormous dark room full of like 50 overstuffed sleepy chairs with blankets and pillows. Awesome. I think they had “white noise” going on in there because it was super quiet.

The captain told me to pick a chair and go to sleep, and he zonked out, but my eyes were like *boing* because I thought it was so cool to be in this secret forbidden room, all access! There was a row of vending machines that had all the lights turned off in them, and just a tiny light so you can see what you’re buying. I was thinking: What a great idea! Turn off the stupid lights! And there was a whole wall of hundreds of pieces of luggage, and I was like, god - how many employees work for this airline? I figured it out: A Lot. I guess they just store their shit there while they’re off on a short flight? And nobody steals anything? Huh. I couldn’t stop staring at all of the pilots sleeping like babies in their uniforms, all curled up with their blankets.

Many hours passed and finally we got on a flight at 8pm. We were the last two people to get on, and we lucked out and got first class again, helll yeah. Brain dead, we had been traveling for 20-plus hours straight and we just wanted our dish of cashews and a blanket. A pretty blond girl appeared in the doorway of the plane and was begging to be let on, saying she just had to get on this flight. I had seen her in the waiting area all day, same as us, flying stand-by. The flight attendant said, “Sorry miss, this flight is completely full.”

In my mind I was like: “Piss off, bitch, *middle finger*, go take a nap on the floor and wait your turn like the rest of us.”

And you know what happened next?

My boyfriend lost his mind.

It must have been all that third-world air pollution that cut the oxygen off to his brain, because he said to the girl, “You can have my seat.”

I was thinking: Don’t even fuck with me in my exhausted state. HELL if I’m flying home without you.

Before my eyes could even start bugging and burning, holy shit, my man had unbuckled his seat belt and was standing up.

Me = delayed reaction. By the time I had opened my mouth to form the words FUCKIN NIGGERS, this blond bitch was bouncing in the seat next to me and gushing about how cool my “husband” is.

My boyfriend said to the flight attendant, “Miss? I can ride in the cockpit,” as he pulled out his pilot license and airline ID.

And the flight attendant said, “Oh, great! That is so nice of you! GREAT! Ok!”

And then.

And then Mr. Thirtysomething Stupid White Man Across the Aisle spoke up.

“Oh, me too!” Raising his hand, as in grammar school, “Can I ride in the cock pit?”

Uh.

I thought it was kind of common sense, that ever since 2001 (if not the beginning of time) they don’t exactly look for volunteers to ride on the lap of a pilot on a 747.

Honest to god, this fool thought his first class ticket bought him a ride in the cock pit, on the other side of the bullet proof, time-locked, vacuum sealed door, separating his white ass from all of the potential terrorists in coach.

All of the terrorists are scratching their beards: “Huh. You mean all I have to do to hijack this plane is buy a $700 ticket instead of a $200 ticket? That sounds like a pretty good deal.”

Oh white man, will you ever stop embarrassing me?

So my boyfriend rode up in the cockpit in the jump seat in the cock pit, and you are crammed up by the pilots and everyone is in each other’s personal space and it sucks.

All of the women around me were going on about how great my boyfriend is, and I agreed that he is a prince, but him giving up first class and me being stuck with bouncy girl, I had to wonder if maybe it would be better if he was a selfish asshole every once in awhile.

The blond girl spent the whole flight talking at me and asking me questions about my life in Chicago and my boyfriend, while I asked her nothing. Why can’t people see when they are having a one-way conversation? She was clearly an experienced world traveler, as evidenced by the fact that she had the gumption to approach the door of a plane and ask to be let on. She told me that she travels all over by herself, including to unstable places in Africa and the Middle East, and how fun it is. Sure, if you think getting kidnapped and gang-banged by guerrillas is fun. This girl reminded me of Reese Witherspoon in that girly movie with the Chihuahua. Totally an adult cheerleader. I can only imagine the attention she gets traveling by herself.

Before we landed, the flight attendant came over and asked me what kind of alcohol me and my boyfriend drink, and I said, “Uh…vodka, gin, wine.” And a few minutes later I heard her say to another attendant, “This is for the pilot’s wife,” and then I was handed a huge bag full of liquor. A bag bigger then a grocery bag, full of bottles of vodka and wine, she had cleaned out the refrigerator in first class. It was so heavy I could barely carry it and I thanked her and she said, “This is because your husband is so cool.”

By the time we got home we had been traveling for 24 hours. During the trip we both had our share of digestive problems and I was in dire need of giving birth to a 15 pound chocolate baby. God. Damn. My belly was distended like a parasitic Ethiopian child, and he filmed me in my bathing suit like this and I’m sure when I see it I will be mortified.

Oh, and if you’re upset that I used the word ‘nigger’ – I really don’t care. Recently, Belle brought this word back into everyday conversation, in reference to WHITE-WHITE people. White on the outside, white on the inside, white brained, white educated, white hobbies, white neighborhood, and bland, white rice personality. You know who I mean. Caucasians are the race that’s been on my shit list for some time now, and they aggravate me to no end. Sounds stupid, huh? Ironic? No. I really don’t encounter too many WHITE-WHITES in my daily life, so when I do I’m like *eyes cross*.

The N word catches me off guard every time. Belle is a pure-bred Mexican who lives in a Mexican neighborhood that was taken over by white yuppies years ago. The white spreads like a disease: Starbucks, Crate & Barrel, Trader Joe’s. He’ll say, “Look at all these goddamn niggers, ruining the neighborhood.” My heart will jump in my chest, because it is SO WRONG to say that, and then I look and see him pointing to a long line of white people waiting to get into a pub. HA HA.

It’s always a “pub” because white people only want to drink in bars called “Fatty McFlannigans” or “The Drunken Shamrock” regardless of their ethnicity because they WANT to be Irish and PARTY like the Irish. Well, let me tell you white folks something. I’m half Irish, and that side of my family is riddled with alcoholics, neglectful parents and the infidelity/divorce rate is about 95%. ENVY THAT. I once dated a guy who referred to me as a “Potato Nigger” and I whole-heartedly agreed with him. There’s no real pride in being Irish.

Belle and I were in a restaurant one day and he looked around and sneered, “Fucking niggers. I’m disgusted that I have to share a restaurant with them.”

So when I was on the plane and Blondie busted in, all I could think was, “This fucking nigger is going to take my boyfriend’s first-class seat?!”

White People: The new Niggers. Pass it on.

Previous - Next

The Latest Babel

The Fast, Days 1-6
January 28, 2007