Oh my~ I just realized I am as bad as the white ladies who live in Jackson, Mississippi We flew to California yesterday and we will be living on our boat for the next few months. from, The Help.
Anywho, I just went to take a shower here at the marina. They have private shower facilities for boat owners. I had finished my shower and was just about to dry my hair when in walked 6 big guys who work on the landscaping here. They also clean the showers & toilets for the slip renters- one of which would be me.
These six big workers- The Help, walked in to actually use the bathrooms while I was standing there brushing my teeth. Three of them plowed into the toilets and sat down
grunting, upon whence they started shitting and farting while I've got a toothbrush in my mouth.
So much for the fragrance I had just put in my hair.
The other three men were at the urinal farting and pissing. Although they were not
all that attractive, The Help, as I could see, I could not help craning to see if I could catch a peek of their dingle dangles in the mirror, but could not, no matter how hard I tried.
And then it happened.
The whole room filled up with the stench of defecation.
If there's one thing I can't stand, it's smelling shiz while I'm getting out of the shower, trying to make myself presentable.
I mean, three big guys taking a shit at the same time? Gag me.
I grabbed my stuff so that I could bolt out of that private shower, cursing in my mind
all the while, thinking: why don't they have separate toilets for the help?
As the words were forming in my brain, I realized I am nothing more than an arrogant white lady. Still, there's nothing worse than trying to make yourself stunningly attractive, while, smelling the equivalent of the Orange County sewer system in your nostrils.
Coincidentally, I had just watched, "The Help" on the movie system in the air, yesterday.
Thank god for private in-fight viewing, it's just about the only thing Delta Airlines does right. I hate that stinkin' airline. I only booked that airline because it had a short duration flight from the east coast to the west coast, with one hideous connecting flight in Atlanta.
Some stuck up airline stewardess was forty fucking minutes late yesterday in Savannah
for some unknown reason and the entire flight was delayed waiting for the help to arrive.
Rumors circulated as to why she was late.
"Oh, she's gotta have a break between flights" or "She didn't get her ass out of bed on time, like the rest of us did
-who made the flight.
Several people made rather LOUD comments about it once she walked on-board and sashayed past us.
She was Asian and a few people were so mad they started talking like Asians: who da fook she fing she is, make us way fo' fortay minute fo' her?
I gonna trip her fat ass when she walk down aisle!
I blurted out: Let's kill her!
Then I realized it's probably not a good thing to shout out on an airline.
When we landed in Atlanta, we had to run the length of five god damned football fields to catch our next flight. We arrived at gate E38 and had to run like raging idiots to the train, and then take that to terminal A and then run like holy hell to the other end of terminal A to gate A36.
If you know that airport, you know it's a modern miracle to run from one end of that terminal to the other end even on a day when you have all the time in the world.
I swear I'll never do that again.
Atlanta Airport sucks donkey dicks.
I was running and running and running and I turned around to see my partner Tony, walking kind of slowly and when I screamed at him: hurry the fuck up! He casually replied: I'm on Lexapro, I don't give a shit if we make the plane or not.
Oh for craps sake!
By the time I ran and got on the train, I turned around just in time to see the door slam shut
and my partner had just missed it. I waved goodbye to him from the inside of the train, tears filling my eyes. I could see him standing on the deck waving goodbye as the train pulled away from the terminal, just like a scene from Dr. Zhivago where he runs after Laura on that damned train she got on.
Trains just won't wait for anybody these days. I think they used to in the good old days. Same with planes. Not any more.
Which brings me to the damned plane. Do you think they'd wait for the ten of us that had to make that connection? Hell no. That Asian stewardess could take her time and they held that plane for her, making the rest of us forty minutes late.
When I got to A36 there was a big black woman who was the gate agent.
The Help.
I ran up to her short of breath as I heard them announcing over the P.A. -Final Boarding is now over for flight ticky-tacky to Orange County.
I rushed up to Miss Blackie in a dither and screamed out: Darling, I made it! My partner is just a football field behind me, I think I see him staggering down the corridor, yes- there he is in a white shirt, can you see him? Helloo? Can you open the gate door for us, you see our flight was delayed forty minutes and...
And then she hefts up her girth and shoots me a look over her glasses and then barks at me: I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME.
She yaps.
Well! I never!
What a fucking old whore!
I'd like to see her run her fat black ass all over the airport with those gi-normous tits of hers,
and see how she likes it. I had visions of being put up in some god-forsaken hotel, -at the Atlanta Airport...
We had heard that the next available flights were booked solid, and although we were booked on another flight just in case we missed ours, we were told there were no guarantees. I could see my life flashing before my eyes.
I watched my partner stagger down the airport. He was carrying our dog Haley and a set of Laptop computers with all of the accessories. Rather heavy. I got a little hopped up and thought I might cut a bitch if she doesn't open that gate door and let us on-board, hold that plane and all two hundred passengers on board. Panic set in and I thought I might just get on that flight and leave my partner stranded.
See if I'm going to spend the night in Atlanta. E-yew. I hate that town. What town there is of it. I have no idea why anybody would live there.
We finally sit in our seats just as the captain is pulling away from the gate. Oh and get this, we were seated in the last seat on one of their biggest planes. I was starving as I had only had a bite or two of watery scrambled egg at the hotel at 6 a.m.
I had not been able to sleep the night before, waking at two a.m. and tossed there until suddenly, I realized I had forgotten my shaving razor at 5 a.m.
Ack!
I went down to the front desk at 5:30 to inquire about a razor. The help at the desk shot me a look and said: you fa'got ya razah? Well, I don't have any razors for sale, but I got some we give away.
Okay, I don't like a smart ass at five a.m. So I turned and said, do you have any coffee? She replies: they just went to get a hot pot hun, be 'bout twenty minutes or so.
Fucking no help.
When they started the meal service on the plane, I was ready to have something to eat. I was starving.
Unfortunately, the plane had over 200 passengers on it, and we were in the last row.
By the time The Help got to us to see if we wanted a meal for purchase, she says: Sorry, I ran out of sandwiches a long time ago.
Peanuts? Pretzels?
Fucking bitch. We were seething as we didn't have time to grab a bite in Atlanta, so I snubbed her and shot her evil eyes for the next hour. She kept patting me on the shoulder
each time she walked by, shot me that sorry look with her big brown eyes.
Repeatedly she tried to apologize, but I wouldn't have it.
About an hour later she walks up to me and says, I found two cheese & cracker trays for you. Complimentary.
As if I would have even considered paying for them.
Oh they were yummy. I hadn't slept the night before, hauled our asses to that airport at 7 in the morning and then, snubbed by the Asian help and no food all day. Blue cheese with crackers and fruit never tasted so good. I was grateful to her at that point, and tried to fake a little smile, but I still hated her guts, even though she liked me.
Really, it's me, isn't it?
Or is it her?
I mean, she is The Help, after all.
No comments:
Post a Comment