Well I've finally made it home. Yo, flying is not fun anymore! I remember when I was a kid going to the airport and getting on a plane was a stimulating event. It was an opportunity to see and meet different types of people and families from orther states and countries. Watch the latest film release and have all you can eat Honey Roasted Peanuts. Now, it feels like we are walking into a minimum security prison. Now, when one walks into the airport everyone looks either pissed or confused. People look as if they know they are being herded off to be slaughtered. There's one thing I can say for sure though, people are definitly making it a point to wear clean undamaged socks. For some reason I feel like i'm being forced to get to know everone in the airport personally, because all you see are people stripping and funky feet. The airport smells like a highschool lockerroom now.
Here's a random experience for you, since we're are talking about heightend airport security. When I was about 12 or 13 my brother and I were on are way back to L.A. from Detroit, ending our annual "Summer Trip." We had to take a connecting flight which stopped in St. Louis before connect to L.A.. While in St. Louis my brother and I were doing are usual walkabout, through the airport, whenever we had to stop in a connecting city. As we return to prepare to board the airplane a strange man who claims he's from airport security walks up to us and ask if we were alone? I responded with, "why do you want know," he says, "because you two fit the description of some kids who were reported missing, could you please step over here with me for a second," I responed with, "No, I don't know you." He then says, "Are you carrying any large amounts of money," I'm thinking to myself, "who is this fool," I am carried a bit of money, because whenever we go to to Detroit our family showers us with money to take back with us, so I respond, "yes", he tells me to show him, I guess what I showed him wasn't what he considered large amount of money because he immediately respondes with, " I'm sorry we made a mistake." So he and his crew turns around and walks off, when he turns I notice three letters on the back of his jacket, D.E.A. (Drug Enforcement Agency) This muthafucka thought I was a drug dealer. I was pissed all the way home. My brother was to young to understand what was going on, so it pissed me off even more to have to explain to him that we were just racially profiled as being 9 year old and 12 year old drug dealers and gang members. When I got home and explained the situation to my parents, my dad got pissed. Ever since then, I've had personal issue with cops, F.T.P.!
To end on a positive note, when I landed yesturday and saw my mother I gave her the biggest hug I could.
Over and Out,
R.E.A.L.I.T.Y.
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1 comment:
Thats sweet. the mom thing, not the cop story.
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