Part One: Getting to the Airport
"Every journey begins with the first step," said some smart guy a long time ago. Mine began with taking the bus from my neighborhood in Brooklyn to JFK airport.
The bus? Yes.
But why? If you have the money to buy a ticket to London, can't you afford a taxi?
Yes and no. I wanted to be very mindful of every dollar/pound/euro I spent. A little known fact about me is that I'm very anal. I need everything to be just right. I was also worried about running out of money time zones away from home. I didn't want my trip to be a burden on anyone else and I also wanted to prove to myself that I could take on something this big and be self-sufficient.
So, there I was on the bus from Brooklyn to JFK. The first bus zoomed past me (this will be a trend...I now see) and it was empty. The next one was coming in 10 minutes, so I got a few snacks from the store and waited.
I felt the nerves creeping up inside of me. I wasn't nervous about flying or about traffic. (My anal side kicked in and I was leaving about an hour earlier than I needed to.) I was literally telling myself that something would happen to me before I got to the airport on the plane. My imagination was running wild...someone will try to rob me and beat me up or someone will hijack the bus and we won't make it or...crazy scenarios just kept popping up. This is not a great attitude to have right before an hour ride to the airport on public transport. Keep this in mind for the rest of the post.
The bus came and it was relatively crowded with kids on their way home from school. There was a man behind me with an open beer in his hand trying to talk to these high school girls.
"Ay, ya'll sweet," he said, as I tried to swallow my own vomit.
"Ay ya Yankee," the loudest girl in the group piped up, "whatcha troublin we for?"
I liked this girl. She wasn't having it.
"Yankee...that's so disrespectful," he slurred. Dude, it was 4pm.
"Whereyafrom?"
"Grenada," he said. The entire group of girls burst into laughter.
"Wait...wait...wait...wait..he say he from Grenada. I is from Grenada. What we eat for Christmas? Traditional Christmas food? If yuh is from Grenada, yuh gon know."
He blustered, "Christmas, we eat fruit cake." He sipped his beer loudly. The girls erupted into laughter again. "Ok, ok, I'm American."
"I give you credit, mister. Yuh say the best country in de world! Grenada!"
"No, sweetie, the best country in the world is America. Isn't that where you live now?" he said, getting off the bus.
"I don't care where me rest at. Me heart in Grenada. It is the best country in de worl'," she grumbled.
As he got off the bus, I was happy for his exit. He was quickly becoming one of those crazy scenarious causing me to miss my flight. A group of cheerleaders got on. Now, it may seem hyperbolic to say that I've never seen cheerleaders in Brooklyn, but it would be the truth. It would also seem equally dramatic to gripe that the day I was leaving of all days, I thought a Bring It On-esque showdown was going to go on between the cheerleaders and The Embassy of Grenada on the bus because she did NOT like anything about these girls.
The air got thick around us as the head cheerleader sensed there was a hater among us. She sniffed her out immediately, flipped her hair and reapplied her lip gloss. (Such a cheerleader move.)
"Hey young lady. How are you today?" an old man spoke to the HCIC (Head Cheerleader in Charge.)
She smiled politely and we locked eyes. HCIC and I understood each other. This man was old enough to be her grandfather or maybe by today's standards, her great grandfather and it didn't seem (by the look of his roaming eyes) that he was just trying to be friendly.
HCIC was cool. She started up a conversation with another cheerleader, going all Means Girls on the only Caucasian in the group about how stiff she moves. I took that opportunity, to gaze at their nails. High school girls are much more advanced now than I was at their age. They had tattoos, weaves, makeup and their nails looked like mine! I was 26 years and 362 days old and these girls had more swag than me!
Just as the cheerleaders were nearing their stop, an older woman got on the bus and began to quiz them.
"Have you ever heard of Willie Lynch?" she asked.
HCIC was bold. "No," she said, not bothering to keep the boredom out of her voice.
"He was a white man who wrote a letter to other slave owners about how to break slaves for centuries and it worked!" she replied.
This began a tirade of how white people are evil and black people need to unite against them that lasted for thirty minutes! Closer and closer to the airport we rode and the woman enlisted the old man who likes little cheerleaders on her team about how Obama said that women can fight in combat.
"You know that's them white womens doing. The black woman always been liberated. Them white womens always fighting to be like men. Well, they done done it now," he said. "You know I never laid wit a white womens in my life," he went on to say. "My cousin liked a white gal we was young. Them white boys caught wind. They lynched him, cut his pecker off and put it in his mouth. I'se the one to find him. Been 50 years, still got that image in my mind clear as day."
"I never been attracted to white men. I got my degree in biochemistry. Did you know it is a scientific fact that the black genes are the dominant and the white genes are recessive. Means our genes stronger," she said.
"That's why 1 drop of black blood makes you black. That's what we always say," the old man chimed in. "These white men, four of them, got my sister as she was walking home from school. They all raped her and left her on the sides of the road for dead. White man evil. I been fighting them my whole life," he said. "Foreigners come here and they able to build themselves a decent life and they look at me like I aint got shit cause I been fighting my whole life to get what I got, making it easier for them. I don't hold no hate in my heart for these white folks. They just make me sad."...and their conversation went on and on untill we arrived at my terminal.
It made me think that it is truly a wonder that with all the atrocities my people faced, that we aren't plum crazy - all of us or more of us. I felt like I needed to hear that as a reminder to be thankful for what I have and where I was going. I was going on a plane alone to Europe for pleasure and without fear of chains or having to go through the back door of any establishment.
Their exchange was a look back at how far we've come and how proud I am of my ancestors. It made me feel strong because for me to get here, it meant that my forefathers and foremothers survived unspeakable conditions, rape, disease, torture and so much more...for me to be born to enjoy their sacrifice. I said a small prayer thanking God for them and for the opportunity to be able to live out a dream.
Honestly, I can't have hate in my heart for the past. In actuality, I was a brown girl going to some of the whitest countries I could find. (lol)
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