Yesterday, on the flight home from Miami, I was sooo tired that I could hardly keep my eyes open. Besides being fun, my two-week work trip to L.A. and Miami was unbelievably draining. For the first time ever, I did not try to start a conversation with my seat partner. Instead, I plugged my earphones into my armrest and listened to classic rock.
Although I was half asleep, I noticed that my seat partner, and older Dominican man, was smiling at me. Not a flirty smile, but a friendly smile. I smiled back but as I said, I was not interested in talking.
For a split second I took off my earphones to tell the flight attendant what drink I wanted. This was Mr. Dominican's cue to start talking. He told me that once upon a time he used to be fat, and that now he is 200 lbs. He asked me how much I weighed, and, hesitant not to be rude to an elder, I told him I didn't know, which I don't. He then went on to estimate that I was twice his size, so I must be 400lbs. He asked me how old I was. I told him, and he told me he was in his 60s.
Silly of me to think that that was the end of it. Mr. Dominican went on to school me on the history of sumo wrestling! Did you know that yes, sumo wrestlers are huge, but once they retire, they immediately go on a strict diet? Do you know why? Well, according to Mr. Dominican, it is for the same reason that he lost weight and why I should: to have a better quality of life.
"You are young. If you lose weight, you will have a better quality of life," he assured me, leaning in close. "What? You have never thought of losing the weight?"
I looked in the eyes of this adorable old man and did not see cruelty. Although he was annoying, rude, intrusive, and out of line, I could tell he was not being mean...just old. So I smiled and put my hand on his and said, "No disrespect, but I am tired, and I don't want to talk about this."
"Oh, Ok," said Mr. Dominican, and that was that. Usually, I try to entertain other people's fat facts, but yesterday I was just not in the mood. Only mildly annoyed by this man, I allowed the music of Genesis to rock me to the sleep the rest of the flight back to Atlanta.
Showing posts with label flight. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flight. Show all posts
Monday, June 28, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
Yay L.A.!
So I am back to L.A. for this year's film festival. EXCITED! However, I have to say that I am annoyed by the Korean tourists in my hotel that look at me like I am the hugest person that they have ever seen, which may be true. When I get off the elevator, they stare at me with wide eyes and part like the Red Sea for me to pass by. They are speaking in a different language, but I know that they are commenting on me...because they are pointing! They were also watching me eat my cereal during breakfast. Tonight, when I go down to dinner, I am going to offer to let them squeeze my fat for a buck. I can use the extra dough.
Yesterday, when I was on the plane, I sat next to these cool drunk dudes from Louisiana. They slept for like 90% of the flight but when they woke up, they schooled me on The World Cup. Then, this random Hispanic older lady was walking to the bathroom, looked down at me, and tells me that she is "muy consada." I'm like, "I'm tired too" and she touched my face. Well, not so much touch, more like held. I know this sounds weird, but it felt nice. I thought she was going to kiss my forehead. She put me in mind of my grandma.
Yesterday, when I was on the plane, I sat next to these cool drunk dudes from Louisiana. They slept for like 90% of the flight but when they woke up, they schooled me on The World Cup. Then, this random Hispanic older lady was walking to the bathroom, looked down at me, and tells me that she is "muy consada." I'm like, "I'm tired too" and she touched my face. Well, not so much touch, more like held. I know this sounds weird, but it felt nice. I thought she was going to kiss my forehead. She put me in mind of my grandma.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
NY: Day 1
I am so happy to be writing you today, for on the plane to NY, I thought I was going to die! I could literally feel every gust of air that brushed against the plane. The lights were blinking on and off, and at one point, the plane felt like it had stopped midair! I would have kissed the ground when we landed...if it wasn't gross!
Upon arrival at Laguardia, I stood in line to use the two stall bathroom. Apparently, one woman had to go so bad that she felt it appropriate to unzip her paints in the line. Just my luck, I get to use the bathroom after The Incredible Shedding Woman. After thoroughly wiping the toilet, I could not help but to wonder if she had bothered to leave one pubic hair on her vag.
While trying to trek it to the hotel shuttle, some airport employee, whose job it is to direct people to the shuttles, stops me to say, "I'm not tryin' to be funny, but I don't think you should lose a damn ounce!" This guy is typical of men who find me attractive: African, short, and underweight. Eye roll. Then he goes on to quote his favorite comedian's line about "skinny bitches."
My ride on the shuttle from the airport was smooth until a fellow passenger and the driver got into a shouting match. Something about being afraid of getting charged twice.
While they yelled at each other, I found myself taken aback by the flashing lights of the city. How could something be so beautiful, while looking like it needed a thorough rinse? There was so much trash! And not litter, I mean huge bags!
Later that day, my homegirl invites me to go eat at her house. The catch: I have to take the subway. YUCK! The people who didn't look sick looked mean! With every cough and grunt, I could feel myself getting a temperature. The NY train system, although efficient, makes Marta, the Atlanta transit system, look like limo service.
On my way to the train, a street man told me I needed to lose weight...very loudly. He was selling belts out of a tattered luggage. I dodged into a Subway restaurant to avoid him and buy a tea, just to exit and run right into him face-to-face, yelling about how cute I was, but needed to "come down." He was willing to work out with me, he yelled in so many words. I ignored him, taking a sip of my tea, only to find that it was diet. Irony.
Today, I shall wonder the city. I shall let you know how that goes; what excitement I run into.
Upon arrival at Laguardia, I stood in line to use the two stall bathroom. Apparently, one woman had to go so bad that she felt it appropriate to unzip her paints in the line. Just my luck, I get to use the bathroom after The Incredible Shedding Woman. After thoroughly wiping the toilet, I could not help but to wonder if she had bothered to leave one pubic hair on her vag.
While trying to trek it to the hotel shuttle, some airport employee, whose job it is to direct people to the shuttles, stops me to say, "I'm not tryin' to be funny, but I don't think you should lose a damn ounce!" This guy is typical of men who find me attractive: African, short, and underweight. Eye roll. Then he goes on to quote his favorite comedian's line about "skinny bitches."
My ride on the shuttle from the airport was smooth until a fellow passenger and the driver got into a shouting match. Something about being afraid of getting charged twice.
While they yelled at each other, I found myself taken aback by the flashing lights of the city. How could something be so beautiful, while looking like it needed a thorough rinse? There was so much trash! And not litter, I mean huge bags!
Later that day, my homegirl invites me to go eat at her house. The catch: I have to take the subway. YUCK! The people who didn't look sick looked mean! With every cough and grunt, I could feel myself getting a temperature. The NY train system, although efficient, makes Marta, the Atlanta transit system, look like limo service.
On my way to the train, a street man told me I needed to lose weight...very loudly. He was selling belts out of a tattered luggage. I dodged into a Subway restaurant to avoid him and buy a tea, just to exit and run right into him face-to-face, yelling about how cute I was, but needed to "come down." He was willing to work out with me, he yelled in so many words. I ignored him, taking a sip of my tea, only to find that it was diet. Irony.
Today, I shall wonder the city. I shall let you know how that goes; what excitement I run into.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Plane Pain
It is time for me to do the traveling for my job again, and it's back to the same ol' bullshit. The other day I worked the elliptical so hard to burn some fat before my flight that I felt like I was going to throw up! I don't think that I have gained weight. I can still fit all my old clothes, but that doesn't say anything. By the grace of God I am still able to SQUEEZE into this T-shirt I got in the 8th grade.
Oh, woe is me! I hate having to worry about this! I can't honestly say that I hate being fat. Probably because it's all I know and because I'm really cute. But I do hate some of the bull that comes with it, like not being able to buy cute, cheap bras from Wal-Mart and having to worry about being kicked off planes.
My friends have told me not to worry about it because I got on last year, no problems. But it's still a scary thought, and unfortunately, they simply are not in the position to even wrap their sweet heads around it.
So I solicit my readers to pray for me! Pay that come Thursday morn', I get on that plane no matter how bad it HURTS, no one gives me any shit, and I have a fun and safe trip. Thanks bunches, and I will let you know either way.
Oh, woe is me! I hate having to worry about this! I can't honestly say that I hate being fat. Probably because it's all I know and because I'm really cute. But I do hate some of the bull that comes with it, like not being able to buy cute, cheap bras from Wal-Mart and having to worry about being kicked off planes.
My friends have told me not to worry about it because I got on last year, no problems. But it's still a scary thought, and unfortunately, they simply are not in the position to even wrap their sweet heads around it.
So I solicit my readers to pray for me! Pay that come Thursday morn', I get on that plane no matter how bad it HURTS, no one gives me any shit, and I have a fun and safe trip. Thanks bunches, and I will let you know either way.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
The MJ Effect
So on Monday, I was on this huge plane coming back to Atlanta and we were about to take off when the engine exploded.
At first, the pilot lied and said that it was a blown tire. Then three seconds later after he called the technician, he announced that the engine exploded and that we had to get off the plane.
If I could have only taken a picture of the looks of the other passengers when they heard that engine go bust. As with any flight, the passengers of the flight came from all walks of life. But on Monday they all wore the same expression: a mixture of fear and this other look that read "Please God, kill my neighbor and not me!"
After I got off of the plane I was so shaken. If the plane would have taken off, we all would have been toast. That second as I stood in LAX with my laptop bag and purse after leaving the plane, I realized that I could have died. That that would have been it. That moment as I aimlessly began to follow the other passengers to the information desk, I could have either been burning to death or already dead, my soul taking a comfortable stroll to Hell where liars and people with lustful hearts such as myself reside after they kick the can.
Once I was in the information line, I began to call and text my friends to tell them what happened and of course, only one person texted me back. Later they would call me and tell me that they were in class or at work or taking a shit or whatever they were doing that was so time-consuming that they couldn't answer the goddamn phone. And they would have still been doing that task after I was dead. As I waited for my turn for a flight agent to give a rubber apology for what happened, I realized that had I had died, life would have gone on. Life will go on after I die. The people closest to you will get over it, and some of them won't give a shit. I don't know. It's something that you always know, but it hit me Monday like a ton of bricks at LAX in the information line.
After getting the information on my next flight, I seriously thought about Michael Jackson for the first time. On Wednesday before he had a cardiac arrest, he was probably at home or doing his usual King of Pop stuff, not thinking about death, and clearly not pondering over how is was going to die the next day. He probably had tasks planned throughout the week.
That night in the hotel room that the airline had set up for me, I sat up awake on the bed looking at the ceiling. Still, none of my friends had returned my call and I was beginning to feel dizzy. I had never felt so alone and shitty. I thought about all the times I had been depressed and actually asked God to kill me; all those times in middle school when I had actually tried to kill myself. I felt like an asshole.
Now I am at home and still thinking about it. Needless to say, the whole thing has been a wake-up call, so much of one that I have not been able to get to sleep. But at least I am still alive and I have to tell you, I have never been so aware of this fact.
At first, the pilot lied and said that it was a blown tire. Then three seconds later after he called the technician, he announced that the engine exploded and that we had to get off the plane.
If I could have only taken a picture of the looks of the other passengers when they heard that engine go bust. As with any flight, the passengers of the flight came from all walks of life. But on Monday they all wore the same expression: a mixture of fear and this other look that read "Please God, kill my neighbor and not me!"
After I got off of the plane I was so shaken. If the plane would have taken off, we all would have been toast. That second as I stood in LAX with my laptop bag and purse after leaving the plane, I realized that I could have died. That that would have been it. That moment as I aimlessly began to follow the other passengers to the information desk, I could have either been burning to death or already dead, my soul taking a comfortable stroll to Hell where liars and people with lustful hearts such as myself reside after they kick the can.
Once I was in the information line, I began to call and text my friends to tell them what happened and of course, only one person texted me back. Later they would call me and tell me that they were in class or at work or taking a shit or whatever they were doing that was so time-consuming that they couldn't answer the goddamn phone. And they would have still been doing that task after I was dead. As I waited for my turn for a flight agent to give a rubber apology for what happened, I realized that had I had died, life would have gone on. Life will go on after I die. The people closest to you will get over it, and some of them won't give a shit. I don't know. It's something that you always know, but it hit me Monday like a ton of bricks at LAX in the information line.
After getting the information on my next flight, I seriously thought about Michael Jackson for the first time. On Wednesday before he had a cardiac arrest, he was probably at home or doing his usual King of Pop stuff, not thinking about death, and clearly not pondering over how is was going to die the next day. He probably had tasks planned throughout the week.
That night in the hotel room that the airline had set up for me, I sat up awake on the bed looking at the ceiling. Still, none of my friends had returned my call and I was beginning to feel dizzy. I had never felt so alone and shitty. I thought about all the times I had been depressed and actually asked God to kill me; all those times in middle school when I had actually tried to kill myself. I felt like an asshole.
Now I am at home and still thinking about it. Needless to say, the whole thing has been a wake-up call, so much of one that I have not been able to get to sleep. But at least I am still alive and I have to tell you, I have never been so aware of this fact.
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