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Airlines: A Flying Shame

By Joshua King
Black College Wire

"Young man. Excuse me, young man come here so I can show you something," belted a woman selling the U.S. Airways credit cards. The statement was followed by a hand, as if I was her nephew who strayed away from the assigned seat in Sunday school.

Josh King

I assumed that it was my young looks that gave her the inkling that she could talk to me as if she knew me well. But after careful consideration, I came to the conclusion that airport employees are just as rude as the Chinese restaurant worker who cuts your answers short and only speaks correct English when quoting the price of your meal.

I proceeded to the restroom out of necessity and to get rid of the overworked stick of Extra gum that had been held captive since the ride down Baltimore-Washington Parkway to Baltimore-Washington International Thurgood Marshall Airport.

Upon entering the restroom, I was bombarded by a bathroom attendant who wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Excuse me sir, can I hold your bag?" he asked. I politely said, "No." He proceeded with an, "Are you sure? It can be very troublesome." And I responded, "Man, I'm good." On exiting, he handed me two paper towels and a mint.

"I will only accept tips," he said.

I almost went into a four-month coma. But instead of acting my shoe size, 7, I politely turned around and walked out of the bathroom.

From the moment I stepped on the plane, I felt an aura of death around me, or it could have just been my mind placing me in the movie "Soul Plane." The flight attendant had a Cheshire cat smile that assured me I would be clutching the seat the whole way back to Tally-ho.

As I passed first-class seating to get to coach, I felt like a frozen-up contestant in Lee Hall at a Coleman Library Showcase. People of different ethnicities, colors and smells looked me up and down like a piece of meat. How exciting!

As I took my seat, I immediately became a character on "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids." There I was, sandwiched between two mountain men from North Dakota, snarling, sweating and ready to delete my existence with a movement of their arm from lap to armrest, which was the general vicinity of my whole body.

Soon thereafter, the witches of the night graced the aisles with buggies filled with smashed crackers and outdated soda pop. Their blue and white uniforms were designed to appear classy to customers. They were a wretched mess.

For as long as I can remember, I pictured flying on a plane as a stressful experience. This flight, my second, confirmed that perception.

Articles in the "Voices" section represent the opinions of the individual writers and do not necessarily reflect the views of Black College Wire.

Joshua King is a student at Florida A&M University. This article originally appeared in The Famuan.

Posted Jan. 14, 2007