9-10-12
I know I shouldn’t. I know that logically speaking, there is nothing I have done wrong. Why is it then that I feel so much guilt?
On this upcoming Sunday, my brother, Doug, would have been 43. Sadly, he didn’t make it to 42. He managed to end it all the weekend I turned 36. I chatted with him via Facebook on the day before my birthday, unsure of how to deal with his recent manic episode. I didn’t invite him to come join my family and our dad for lunch, trying to avoid any kind of drama that might come up. He and our dad had only recently begun to talk again after 10 years, so I didn’t want to muck things up there. Plus, I had only been in communication with him for a couple of years and I wanted to still have that happy brother/sister bond.
When I first emailed with Doug back a couple years back, I was thrilled. Here I was going to be able to have a relationship with my “normal” brother. My full blood brother, Matt, has never been one to be able to bond with me in any way that I deemed functional. His autism has always strained my interactions with him and ultimately I feel awkward around him and don’t know how to even socialize with him. So instead, I thought that dealing with the manic/bi-polar half-brother would be easier.
Neither one is easy. They both seem to come with their own demons.
Matt has always been described as high functioning. He has a driver’s license. He has held a job much of his adult life, and even had a paper route for something like 8 years. He can manage going to the store on his own. He even handles a little of his own finances. In many ways, Matt is ok in life.
He does have social issues. His maturity is somewhere close to 7, if not younger in some situations. He is prone to arguments, and doesn’t deal well with change. Recently, though, he has grown in some ways. We have been calling it his angst filled teenager years. Sure, they are a good twenty years too late, but I suppose 35 is the new 15, right?
Matt has gained some friends, and has even taken to hanging out with them while playing video games or going to lunch. They are good kids (mind you, they are also autistic grownups that work with him) and overall it has made a difference in Matt’s independence. When my folks’ went on a trip where Matt was allowed to come along, he opted to stay home for the week. This was very much unlike him, especially since only a few years ago he would have been upset with them just going out to dinner without him.
But as we all know, teenagers don’t make good decisions at times. They are prone to random outbursts and in some situations, they can be downright crazy.
When you couple this kind of emotional roller coaster with a guy who is built like a linebacker and has autism, you are courting danger.
Matt has recently reminded me of Dr. Bruce Banner. He is mild mannered over all, but then the “other guy” comes out in full force. It doesn’t matter who triggered it, it is in everyone’s best interest to run.
This brings us to a little over a week ago. Matt had been playing with my two boys when Bobby, my 7 year old started antagonizing him. Mind you, it was not mean spirited, and if anything it was a back and forth gentle ribbing between uncle and nephew.
Then it turned ugly.
Matt got the twisted and contorted look on his face that is synonymous with his violent outbursts. You could see his shoulders tense up and his eyes glaze over and even his hand started to mold into the fist that is out of my nightmares. He leaned over Bobby who was sitting in front of him while Matt was on the couch behind him. He then said that he would kick my son’s ass.
It was a voice from a hell deep inside his soul. I don’t even know if he could hear his own voice. I do know that I did.
I was sitting across from them and I quickly replied to Matt that I would toss his ass out the window if he laid a finger on Bobby. It was the finger snap that brought him back to reality, and things calmed quickly. Bobby only laughed, especially since he never caught on to the danger vibe. He did trust that his mama would defend him no matter what, though.
A week later, I would be dealing with Dax, my 6 year old, crying as we were leaving my parents’ house. I asked him what was wrong and he informs me that Matt had hit him. I was sure it must be a misunderstanding. How could this really have happened? Sure I always worried, but would it really go down like this?
I turned to Matt, in front of my boys and our parents and asked him if he hit Dax. “Well, he deserved it.”
It was difficult to not become unhinged right then and there.
In an odd way, it was good I had so many witnesses. It was good my children were there to see how I would deal with such a delicate situation. I was able to breathe for a moment, compose myself and say simply to him to not bother coming to the boys’ soccer game in the morning. With that, I gather our belongings and my children and we headed out.
My mom and I talked about the incident afterwards. In a slight twinge of my own angst, I was sure that she would once again side with Matt, as she had always seemed to do as we were growing up. Matt doesn’t know any better or I should know not to push him were the words flooding into my head. Instead, she and I were able to speak Mother to Mother this time. We were able to discuss what had really occurred and how it was that between the boys, Matt and my dad, all 4 of them were really playing much too rough all afternoon. This then resulted in Dax and Matt having some kind of disagreement which led to Dax pushing or hitting Matt, and Matt hitting him back.
Don’t get me wrong. I am still livid pissed at Matt. But does it do me any good to be mad? It is the same mad I have at Doug who has been explaining suicide by shotgun to my sons who only know Uncle Doug as the guy who brought them Star Wars toys and who was really funny. Uncle Matt gets violent when he is upset. Uncle Doug was sick and didn’t know how to deal with it any other way. The uncles I have provided my boys with come with a lot of instructions manuals that apparently are out of print.
Of course, Bobby and Dax seem to deal just fine with their crazy family. Even though I didn’t want Matt around the boys, I let Dax make the decision to allow Matt to come to the soccer game. Bobby still talks fondly of his Uncle Doug, even though really he only got to hang out with him a handful of times. These boys have gobs of forgiveness built in that has not been snuffed out through years of adulthood. I envy their patience.
This leaves me, a self-described oldest middle only child in my family. I didn’t get to grow up with a little brother that I could play with in the same ways. I didn’t get to have my older brother around to take care of me. I was alone with the shadows of two brothers who have demons that took one of them and is forcing me to make tough decisions on the other one.
In my house are reminders that Doug is gone, which only adds to this strange guilt I try to suppress. Did I leave him hanging? Was I too nonchalant about his condition? Is it my lack of an invite that allowed him to end it that weekend?
I then feel like the world’s worst sister since I still have a living brother, who ultimately wants to be a part of my life. He adores the shit out of the boys and despite his lack of control at times, he does very nice things for them all the time. Yet I don’t even want to deal with that brother now.
I have placed all of my affection into one brother I hardly knew and have distanced myself from the only one around. I have allowed my being to wallow in a strange place that is surrounded by fear and good intentions.
I know that my primary concern in life is keeping the boys safe. I have to do this not only by keeping them out of harm’s way, but also teaching them lessons on how to deal with different walks of life. I have to show them the proper way to deal with a situation like mine, even though I hope they never have anything even remotely similar.
So I push forward. I will still visit with my parents and Matt on Fridays and will be happy to see them at games on Saturdays. I know that I will also be making sure I watch for triggers and will not allow Matt and the boys to be alone. I will make sure to send kind words and affection to Doug’s mom on Sunday, knowing how difficult each passing year will be. She loves seeing pictures of my kids, and I know how upsetting it is that that is the closest thing to grandkids she will now get. I will try hard to not get down on myself that day, wondering what if.
I am a sad sister, and I worry that I have failed in more ways than I even know yet.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Not Tiger, not Western--Just Mom
2-1-11
When I first read the Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, I was outraged. I am not even sure that this begins to cover how annoyed I was. This woman talked of how her daughters were not allowed play dates with other kids and how they sometimes spent 6 plus hours practicing the violin. This wasn’t nearly as offensive as the part where she called her daughter ‘garbage’. Oh, and she also scolded her daughter for a birthday card that she was presented with, insisting as a mother that she deserved better.
Her reasons ranged from her own upbringing, which was from parents who had very little and taught their kids survival, to wanting her kids to succeed and have a good work ethic. I am all for making sure my kids bust their asses. I am all for making sure they know things will not be handed to them on a silver platter. But is this the way to achieve this?
My disgust stayed with me for a few days. I posted the article, I talked poor Ken’s ear off about it, and just wanted to find this woman and kick her. Look, lady, your kids are not commodities. They hopefully were made with love. You don’t need to treat them like a stock portfolio. I am shocked she didn’t trade her youngest who apparently gave her a lot more trouble than her submissive first born.
I was at my parents’ house and I noted the Time magazine on their table with the headline title of ‘The Truth About Tiger Moms”. I laughed at this and asked my mother if she was familiar with this broad. My mom looked confused, and proceeded to tell me that she wasn’t as awful as the masses were making her out to be. I was dumbstruck at her assessment, and brought up the horrid things this woman said to her daughter. My mom agreed these were bad, but that studies show, many of the other things she did are not as bad, and did help test scores.
My feeling was, but at what price? Sure, my kid aced his test, but he hates me and himself at the same time. This didn’t seem like a win win so much as a win lose lose. Anyway you look at it; the results were giving up one good thing for a different good thing. What is more important?
At my mom’s urging, she told me to read the article. I gladly took the magazine. I had it my car for a couple of days before I opened it up to the page this morning.
I still found that this woman sucked.
That being said, I could see what my mom was talking about in terms of some of the study exercises. On Friday, I had sat down with Bobby’s teacher, and we discussed ways to improve his vocabulary. She knew he had it in him, as did I. He just lacked focus. So since 3 o’clock on Friday afternoon to 7 pm on Sunday evening, we worked hard on drilling Bobby with information. We quizzed him on the words. We quizzed him on the numbers. I was concerned that he would whine and pout when asking him to do it over and over, but shockingly, he seemed to sense the urgency in these lessons. He knew he needed to memorize them, and he volunteered to test several times through the weekend.
Our diligence and perseverance paid off. Bobby walked out of class yesterday with a proud strut. He announced to me that he got to color another line on his rainbow. Mrs. Fasheh cheered and said to me, “He did it!” There were smiles and congrats all around. My son had achieved something with hard work and persistence.
I made a point of telling him that he worked hard. I didn’t praise him on the accomplishment so much as praising him on studying and keeping on it. Sure, the test that he passed was cool, but I wanted to make sure he knew that by buckling down, and really taking the time to remember those words, he did well.
Just because he did well didn’t mean I let up, though. We got home, and he was promptly set to work on his homework. I didn’t let him slack. If he wrote the letters like crap, I would erase them. I sometimes even erased the good ones, too, if he got particularly sloppy on a few after it. His homework called for writing the letter ‘o’ maybe 20 times. I made this kid write the letter 50 times.
As I read the article this morning, I noted that perhaps I was doing the same thing to Bobby as this woman was doing with her daughter. I was demanding excellence. I was not settling for an ‘O” that looked like it had been deflated. I didn’t allow him to color only part of the octopus. I wanted him to really put in the effort, especially since I knew this was stuff he could do, so being lazy wasn’t an option.
This being said, I didn’t yell. I never got really angry at him. I would tease. I would be stern, but at the same time, we had fun. I sang songs while he wrote. This cracked him up. I sat and colored pictures of animals from a coloring book while he worked, all the while chatting with him about things. Yes, sometimes I needed to get him back on task with a stern warning, but when all of it was done, he wasn’t angry at me, he wasn’t sad. When he did write a really good ‘O’, he showed it off because he was proud of his work, and I allowed this because I was glad to see him enjoying himself.
So perhaps it isn’t so much that Tiger Moms are better than us lowly Western Moms. It is that if you use a blend of techniques, knowing your audience, you can produce a child that not only strives for excellence, but laughs in spite of failure. Sure, we as a nation are not doing as well academically as some other countries, but we still are a nation of amazing people. Discipline and SAT scores are not the only things that make us great.
Bobby is smart. He is funny. He loves me unconditionally. He knows I don’t want him slacking, yet he also knows that there is a time and a place to be able to relax and play. He knows he has consequences for when he throws a tantrum. He also knows that he doesn’t always get a treat when he does something good. He is learning that life is not fair.
Trust me when I say there are still many grownups that have not picked up on this. Guilty as charged.
When I first read the Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, I was outraged. I am not even sure that this begins to cover how annoyed I was. This woman talked of how her daughters were not allowed play dates with other kids and how they sometimes spent 6 plus hours practicing the violin. This wasn’t nearly as offensive as the part where she called her daughter ‘garbage’. Oh, and she also scolded her daughter for a birthday card that she was presented with, insisting as a mother that she deserved better.
Her reasons ranged from her own upbringing, which was from parents who had very little and taught their kids survival, to wanting her kids to succeed and have a good work ethic. I am all for making sure my kids bust their asses. I am all for making sure they know things will not be handed to them on a silver platter. But is this the way to achieve this?
My disgust stayed with me for a few days. I posted the article, I talked poor Ken’s ear off about it, and just wanted to find this woman and kick her. Look, lady, your kids are not commodities. They hopefully were made with love. You don’t need to treat them like a stock portfolio. I am shocked she didn’t trade her youngest who apparently gave her a lot more trouble than her submissive first born.
I was at my parents’ house and I noted the Time magazine on their table with the headline title of ‘The Truth About Tiger Moms”. I laughed at this and asked my mother if she was familiar with this broad. My mom looked confused, and proceeded to tell me that she wasn’t as awful as the masses were making her out to be. I was dumbstruck at her assessment, and brought up the horrid things this woman said to her daughter. My mom agreed these were bad, but that studies show, many of the other things she did are not as bad, and did help test scores.
My feeling was, but at what price? Sure, my kid aced his test, but he hates me and himself at the same time. This didn’t seem like a win win so much as a win lose lose. Anyway you look at it; the results were giving up one good thing for a different good thing. What is more important?
At my mom’s urging, she told me to read the article. I gladly took the magazine. I had it my car for a couple of days before I opened it up to the page this morning.
I still found that this woman sucked.
That being said, I could see what my mom was talking about in terms of some of the study exercises. On Friday, I had sat down with Bobby’s teacher, and we discussed ways to improve his vocabulary. She knew he had it in him, as did I. He just lacked focus. So since 3 o’clock on Friday afternoon to 7 pm on Sunday evening, we worked hard on drilling Bobby with information. We quizzed him on the words. We quizzed him on the numbers. I was concerned that he would whine and pout when asking him to do it over and over, but shockingly, he seemed to sense the urgency in these lessons. He knew he needed to memorize them, and he volunteered to test several times through the weekend.
Our diligence and perseverance paid off. Bobby walked out of class yesterday with a proud strut. He announced to me that he got to color another line on his rainbow. Mrs. Fasheh cheered and said to me, “He did it!” There were smiles and congrats all around. My son had achieved something with hard work and persistence.
I made a point of telling him that he worked hard. I didn’t praise him on the accomplishment so much as praising him on studying and keeping on it. Sure, the test that he passed was cool, but I wanted to make sure he knew that by buckling down, and really taking the time to remember those words, he did well.
Just because he did well didn’t mean I let up, though. We got home, and he was promptly set to work on his homework. I didn’t let him slack. If he wrote the letters like crap, I would erase them. I sometimes even erased the good ones, too, if he got particularly sloppy on a few after it. His homework called for writing the letter ‘o’ maybe 20 times. I made this kid write the letter 50 times.
As I read the article this morning, I noted that perhaps I was doing the same thing to Bobby as this woman was doing with her daughter. I was demanding excellence. I was not settling for an ‘O” that looked like it had been deflated. I didn’t allow him to color only part of the octopus. I wanted him to really put in the effort, especially since I knew this was stuff he could do, so being lazy wasn’t an option.
This being said, I didn’t yell. I never got really angry at him. I would tease. I would be stern, but at the same time, we had fun. I sang songs while he wrote. This cracked him up. I sat and colored pictures of animals from a coloring book while he worked, all the while chatting with him about things. Yes, sometimes I needed to get him back on task with a stern warning, but when all of it was done, he wasn’t angry at me, he wasn’t sad. When he did write a really good ‘O’, he showed it off because he was proud of his work, and I allowed this because I was glad to see him enjoying himself.
So perhaps it isn’t so much that Tiger Moms are better than us lowly Western Moms. It is that if you use a blend of techniques, knowing your audience, you can produce a child that not only strives for excellence, but laughs in spite of failure. Sure, we as a nation are not doing as well academically as some other countries, but we still are a nation of amazing people. Discipline and SAT scores are not the only things that make us great.
Bobby is smart. He is funny. He loves me unconditionally. He knows I don’t want him slacking, yet he also knows that there is a time and a place to be able to relax and play. He knows he has consequences for when he throws a tantrum. He also knows that he doesn’t always get a treat when he does something good. He is learning that life is not fair.
Trust me when I say there are still many grownups that have not picked up on this. Guilty as charged.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Make Camouflage Purple
10-21-10
Yesterday, dozens of people gathered in Long Beach with a vigil dedicated to the bullied gay teens that have been headline news the past few months.
On the other side of the country, our current administration lifted a judge’s orders that got rid of the “Don’t ask, Don’t tell” policy in our military.
Does anyone else see the problem with this?
Blogs, articles, and programs are everywhere in honor of October being Anti Bulling Month. I applaud this effort. It is a real shame that children are being taunted to the point of hanging themselves just to get away from it. Our parental community needs to be more involved in order to help combat this very serious problem.
Yet, how incredibly discouraging to these efforts is it when our government, the administration that leads us, has effectively turned their back on bullies in our military.
Don’t ask, Don’t tell is horrid. There are brave men and women out there that choose to serve our country. Let me tell you, I would never do it. Not in a million years. Yet these folks not only choose to do it, they love it. They thrive in the environment.
But despite their service, we tell them to not be themselves. We appreciate your risks, but don’t you dare let anyone know you are gay. Where is the logic in this?
We are fighting a war here on our own soil. We are trying to combat the mean kids that think it is ok to pick on someone because they are different. How can we possibly explain to a kid that it isn’t ok to single someone out, when we do it every day on a more grand scale?
I urge this current administration to abandon this primitive policy. I urge them to take a page from this month’s ribbon awareness program. Maybe the military needs to wear purple for the day and rather than treat your fellow soldier as the enemy, embrace them as your comrade in arms. It is this example that will go a long way in our schools and communities across this country.
Yesterday, dozens of people gathered in Long Beach with a vigil dedicated to the bullied gay teens that have been headline news the past few months.
On the other side of the country, our current administration lifted a judge’s orders that got rid of the “Don’t ask, Don’t tell” policy in our military.
Does anyone else see the problem with this?
Blogs, articles, and programs are everywhere in honor of October being Anti Bulling Month. I applaud this effort. It is a real shame that children are being taunted to the point of hanging themselves just to get away from it. Our parental community needs to be more involved in order to help combat this very serious problem.
Yet, how incredibly discouraging to these efforts is it when our government, the administration that leads us, has effectively turned their back on bullies in our military.
Don’t ask, Don’t tell is horrid. There are brave men and women out there that choose to serve our country. Let me tell you, I would never do it. Not in a million years. Yet these folks not only choose to do it, they love it. They thrive in the environment.
But despite their service, we tell them to not be themselves. We appreciate your risks, but don’t you dare let anyone know you are gay. Where is the logic in this?
We are fighting a war here on our own soil. We are trying to combat the mean kids that think it is ok to pick on someone because they are different. How can we possibly explain to a kid that it isn’t ok to single someone out, when we do it every day on a more grand scale?
I urge this current administration to abandon this primitive policy. I urge them to take a page from this month’s ribbon awareness program. Maybe the military needs to wear purple for the day and rather than treat your fellow soldier as the enemy, embrace them as your comrade in arms. It is this example that will go a long way in our schools and communities across this country.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Silent no more
7-26-10
I am a coward.
That may come across as harsh, but it is how I feel this morning after having been a part of something positively awful. I am embarrassed at my lack of response and yet at the same time I am still not sure what I could have done. I am at a loss and it has made me question what could possibly be done the next time.
I went to a concert on Saturday night. Adam Lambert was the main act and I was fortunate enough to see the show with some awesome people. Andy, my brother in law, was the main force behind the outing as it was his birthday. His husband Scott was there along with a couple of old friends, Bob and Paul. Ken, my husband, and my sister in law Lyn were also there.
We got to the venue and made our way to our seats in the bleachers. It was a beautiful evening, warm enough to not require a coat, yet a nice breeze so that it wasn’t too hot. We had a nice view of the stage and we all settled in for a fun time.
The stench of cigarette smoke started to permeate our area. Scott, who is extremely sensitive to the smell, got extremely upset. It had been our understanding that there was no smoking in the bleachers. Scott asked the man to stop since there was no smoking. The man was annoyed with the request and even went over to the security guard.
Security was indifferent. They told the man smoking that it was fine as long as it didn’t bother anyone. They told our party that they didn’t really plan on telling anyone to stop. Our tickets had it printed clearly that there would be no smoking tolerated in the entire venue, not just the bleachers, yet we were at a loss.
It could not have been more than 15 minutes later when a woman sat behind us and proceeded to light up. Ken and Andy responded to the situation by first telling the woman that there was no smoking and that if she was going to smoke if she could go up to the top corner so that the smoke would not affect us. You would think that common courtesy would prevail in a situation like this. Instead, I was a part of the most shocking turn of conversation ever.
She argued with Ken about the policy, telling him that the original smoking man had told her there was not much anyone was going to do about it. Ken told her that the ticket actually said no smoking. Her friend promptly put her cigarette out and she was thanked by my party. The other lady was not as compliant. Instead, she answered Ken’s offer to read to her the line indicating that smoking was prohibited by telling him, “Well, it’s illegal to be a fag, too.”
You hear these kinds of hateful statements in movies or in the context of a news story. I know I have heard people say things that are harsh and ignorant all the time. But for some reason, this just hit me wrong on every level. This was an argument about cigarette smoke, not my Andy’s sexual preference. We had not up to this point said anything derogatory about her appearance or possible likes or dislikes about sex. Where was this hate coming from?
Ken and Lyn were flabbergasted but in a way that allowed them to actually respond. Both of them questioned her thinking, snipping at her for the comment and to some degree requesting more information for her words.
She said that sodomy is illegal in California and that makes gay illegal. She then proceeded to argue with Ken, Lyn and Andy for a few minutes. She finally got up and announced that she was going to security, to which all of us agreed, this was fine with us.
Andy had not even heard the fag remark until Ken mentioned it to him after she had come back. Andy was not about to allow her to get away with this, and more arguments continued as she flat out refused to accept that her statement was not only wrong, but horrid, nasty, cold, evil and just bad on every level. She still felt like we were assaulting her, and that she had free speech rights and ability through this to say whatever she wanted about people.
I sat in the midst of this war of words, feeling extremely uncomfortable. I hate that there are people like her in this world, polluting it with more than just the foul smell of tobacco. Her words were more poisonous than a case of cigarettes. But then why didn’t I speak up? Why didn’t I stand by my family and express my hate for her toxic insults?
I would imagine I am not the only one who feels that way. In life, there are moments like this one all the time. I would venture a guess that there is a hateful, discriminatory statement said just about every 10 seconds. I would imagine many of those comments are made in an environment where the sentiment is probably shared with the company they keep. There are also times when this is said out loud, in a crowd of people, that even with their strong convictions, don’t have the courage to step up and let their voice be heard.
I am unfortunately one of the silent protestors. I feel as though I let Andy down by not expressing my shock and anger at this horrid, hateful woman. I feel as though I should have done more, and instead, I just sat there, almost like an ostrich, hiding her head in the sand, waiting for the dust to settle in order to come up again. I was worried about a fight breaking out. I was worried about getting kicked out of the concert. I was worried about getting arrested. I wondered how it would look to my children when Grandma and Grandpa would have to come bail their parents out of jail for fighting, when we have told them a hundred times to not resort to violence.
Of course, I didn’t have to throw punches. I just needed to verbalize my emotions of hate towards her. But how? Would it have been productive of me to call her names or try to argue a point with someone whose mind had already been made up? No amount of statistics or articulate arguments was going to make her see the light. So what do I do?
This is not just a question for me. This is a question for all people who feel that there are people treated poorly. We can’t just rely on those few people who have it in them to step up in a situation that might be terrifying. We should help our fellow man, and it means that we need to do something, anything, to make sure our voice is heard loud and clear.
Perhaps my voice is to be heard in this piece. Maybe I need to write an angry letter to the management of the casino, telling them how appalled I am at the lack of security interaction despite the fact that one of their patrons was using discriminatory statements against another patron. Maybe it also is a sign that my voice may not have been heard on Saturday night, but it will be heard in the aftermath.
I am sorry for every person who has been in a situation in which they were verbally abused by ignorance and intolerance. I am sorry that there were not more people like Ken and Lyn who came to the defense of their brother in a time of need. I am sorry that there were probably more people like myself that sat dumbfounded, not wanting to get involved.
I have to look at this from the eyes of a mother. If someone were to say these sort of hateful things to one of my children, wouldn’t I want someone, anyone to stand up for them? It is my responsibility to make sure no mother has to worry that I won’t stick up for their child. I hope that my mother in law will forgive me.
Hate is everywhere and unless we actively work to make it go away, it will only continue to result in situations like Saturday night. That was a minor incident, but what if it had been similar to the cases of so many young men and women who have been targeted by hate, and in the midst of the assault it turned into violence? How can anyone live with themselves if they were there during something like that and didn’t stand up?
So to my dear brother in law, Andy, I hope that you can forgive me for not doing more. You are good people, and you deserve good people around you at all times. I will not let you down again.
And to the haters, I am no longer going to be intimidated by you. I will stand up for what is right, and I will make sure that if I am in that situation again, my kids will be proud to know mommy went to jail standing up for the rights of others.
I am a coward.
That may come across as harsh, but it is how I feel this morning after having been a part of something positively awful. I am embarrassed at my lack of response and yet at the same time I am still not sure what I could have done. I am at a loss and it has made me question what could possibly be done the next time.
I went to a concert on Saturday night. Adam Lambert was the main act and I was fortunate enough to see the show with some awesome people. Andy, my brother in law, was the main force behind the outing as it was his birthday. His husband Scott was there along with a couple of old friends, Bob and Paul. Ken, my husband, and my sister in law Lyn were also there.
We got to the venue and made our way to our seats in the bleachers. It was a beautiful evening, warm enough to not require a coat, yet a nice breeze so that it wasn’t too hot. We had a nice view of the stage and we all settled in for a fun time.
The stench of cigarette smoke started to permeate our area. Scott, who is extremely sensitive to the smell, got extremely upset. It had been our understanding that there was no smoking in the bleachers. Scott asked the man to stop since there was no smoking. The man was annoyed with the request and even went over to the security guard.
Security was indifferent. They told the man smoking that it was fine as long as it didn’t bother anyone. They told our party that they didn’t really plan on telling anyone to stop. Our tickets had it printed clearly that there would be no smoking tolerated in the entire venue, not just the bleachers, yet we were at a loss.
It could not have been more than 15 minutes later when a woman sat behind us and proceeded to light up. Ken and Andy responded to the situation by first telling the woman that there was no smoking and that if she was going to smoke if she could go up to the top corner so that the smoke would not affect us. You would think that common courtesy would prevail in a situation like this. Instead, I was a part of the most shocking turn of conversation ever.
She argued with Ken about the policy, telling him that the original smoking man had told her there was not much anyone was going to do about it. Ken told her that the ticket actually said no smoking. Her friend promptly put her cigarette out and she was thanked by my party. The other lady was not as compliant. Instead, she answered Ken’s offer to read to her the line indicating that smoking was prohibited by telling him, “Well, it’s illegal to be a fag, too.”
You hear these kinds of hateful statements in movies or in the context of a news story. I know I have heard people say things that are harsh and ignorant all the time. But for some reason, this just hit me wrong on every level. This was an argument about cigarette smoke, not my Andy’s sexual preference. We had not up to this point said anything derogatory about her appearance or possible likes or dislikes about sex. Where was this hate coming from?
Ken and Lyn were flabbergasted but in a way that allowed them to actually respond. Both of them questioned her thinking, snipping at her for the comment and to some degree requesting more information for her words.
She said that sodomy is illegal in California and that makes gay illegal. She then proceeded to argue with Ken, Lyn and Andy for a few minutes. She finally got up and announced that she was going to security, to which all of us agreed, this was fine with us.
Andy had not even heard the fag remark until Ken mentioned it to him after she had come back. Andy was not about to allow her to get away with this, and more arguments continued as she flat out refused to accept that her statement was not only wrong, but horrid, nasty, cold, evil and just bad on every level. She still felt like we were assaulting her, and that she had free speech rights and ability through this to say whatever she wanted about people.
I sat in the midst of this war of words, feeling extremely uncomfortable. I hate that there are people like her in this world, polluting it with more than just the foul smell of tobacco. Her words were more poisonous than a case of cigarettes. But then why didn’t I speak up? Why didn’t I stand by my family and express my hate for her toxic insults?
I would imagine I am not the only one who feels that way. In life, there are moments like this one all the time. I would venture a guess that there is a hateful, discriminatory statement said just about every 10 seconds. I would imagine many of those comments are made in an environment where the sentiment is probably shared with the company they keep. There are also times when this is said out loud, in a crowd of people, that even with their strong convictions, don’t have the courage to step up and let their voice be heard.
I am unfortunately one of the silent protestors. I feel as though I let Andy down by not expressing my shock and anger at this horrid, hateful woman. I feel as though I should have done more, and instead, I just sat there, almost like an ostrich, hiding her head in the sand, waiting for the dust to settle in order to come up again. I was worried about a fight breaking out. I was worried about getting kicked out of the concert. I was worried about getting arrested. I wondered how it would look to my children when Grandma and Grandpa would have to come bail their parents out of jail for fighting, when we have told them a hundred times to not resort to violence.
Of course, I didn’t have to throw punches. I just needed to verbalize my emotions of hate towards her. But how? Would it have been productive of me to call her names or try to argue a point with someone whose mind had already been made up? No amount of statistics or articulate arguments was going to make her see the light. So what do I do?
This is not just a question for me. This is a question for all people who feel that there are people treated poorly. We can’t just rely on those few people who have it in them to step up in a situation that might be terrifying. We should help our fellow man, and it means that we need to do something, anything, to make sure our voice is heard loud and clear.
Perhaps my voice is to be heard in this piece. Maybe I need to write an angry letter to the management of the casino, telling them how appalled I am at the lack of security interaction despite the fact that one of their patrons was using discriminatory statements against another patron. Maybe it also is a sign that my voice may not have been heard on Saturday night, but it will be heard in the aftermath.
I am sorry for every person who has been in a situation in which they were verbally abused by ignorance and intolerance. I am sorry that there were not more people like Ken and Lyn who came to the defense of their brother in a time of need. I am sorry that there were probably more people like myself that sat dumbfounded, not wanting to get involved.
I have to look at this from the eyes of a mother. If someone were to say these sort of hateful things to one of my children, wouldn’t I want someone, anyone to stand up for them? It is my responsibility to make sure no mother has to worry that I won’t stick up for their child. I hope that my mother in law will forgive me.
Hate is everywhere and unless we actively work to make it go away, it will only continue to result in situations like Saturday night. That was a minor incident, but what if it had been similar to the cases of so many young men and women who have been targeted by hate, and in the midst of the assault it turned into violence? How can anyone live with themselves if they were there during something like that and didn’t stand up?
So to my dear brother in law, Andy, I hope that you can forgive me for not doing more. You are good people, and you deserve good people around you at all times. I will not let you down again.
And to the haters, I am no longer going to be intimidated by you. I will stand up for what is right, and I will make sure that if I am in that situation again, my kids will be proud to know mommy went to jail standing up for the rights of others.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
All these short entries!
5-11-10
Once again, I am short on time this morning. Working hard on these credit lines, trying to earn my money.
Yesterday I checked online to see when soccer signups are, and I found out one of the early days is this Friday. It means Bobby will get signed up after we leave my parents’ house on Friday. Yie!
As if that wasn’t monumental enough, I also went down to the school to get the kindergarten packet to sign him up for school. They also have some kind of a lottery in which Dax may get to do a pre-k program there. Woo hoo! This would mean no more daycare, which means savings of $300 a week. All kinds of good. The pre-k program is chosen by lottery, so who knows if we would even get in. But I am crossing my fingers. Plus, they might pick him just because statistic wise, they need at least one white kid, right?
The suggestion was run by Papa Brenan about having Bobby come with us to Ohio. It would allow him to be shown off to some relatives, plus, it would give me a nice crutch. I also think that he would have fun. He is really good, especially when he doesn’t have the Dax influence. Papa Brenan will be getting back to us on that. It may not be a go, but wouldn’t that be interesting? Plus, I like the idea of Bobby and me time.
Yard sale plans for the 22nd. Attic and garage cleaning will take place over the next two weeks.
I may be trying for a smidge of OT the next couple weeks. With Maryann out for the next two weeks, I could easily warrant an extra 30 minutes each day. I don’t know how happy I will be giving up my extra 30 minutes of free time, but it won’t be that bad, and it gives me a couple of hours of OT a week, which is good.
In my stressing about money yesterday, I did manage to do a lot of laundry until I ran out of detergent. There is more cleaning to do tonight.
Ok, I managed to finish the bulk of what needed to be done with the credit lines. I still have other stuff, but since the program crashed, I can work on it a little at a time over the next few days, which is good. Maryann paid me, too, so this is all good to have the money ready for soccer.
My morning appears to be over, thankfully, which means I can zone out this afternoon. Woo hoo!
Once again, I am short on time this morning. Working hard on these credit lines, trying to earn my money.
Yesterday I checked online to see when soccer signups are, and I found out one of the early days is this Friday. It means Bobby will get signed up after we leave my parents’ house on Friday. Yie!
As if that wasn’t monumental enough, I also went down to the school to get the kindergarten packet to sign him up for school. They also have some kind of a lottery in which Dax may get to do a pre-k program there. Woo hoo! This would mean no more daycare, which means savings of $300 a week. All kinds of good. The pre-k program is chosen by lottery, so who knows if we would even get in. But I am crossing my fingers. Plus, they might pick him just because statistic wise, they need at least one white kid, right?
The suggestion was run by Papa Brenan about having Bobby come with us to Ohio. It would allow him to be shown off to some relatives, plus, it would give me a nice crutch. I also think that he would have fun. He is really good, especially when he doesn’t have the Dax influence. Papa Brenan will be getting back to us on that. It may not be a go, but wouldn’t that be interesting? Plus, I like the idea of Bobby and me time.
Yard sale plans for the 22nd. Attic and garage cleaning will take place over the next two weeks.
I may be trying for a smidge of OT the next couple weeks. With Maryann out for the next two weeks, I could easily warrant an extra 30 minutes each day. I don’t know how happy I will be giving up my extra 30 minutes of free time, but it won’t be that bad, and it gives me a couple of hours of OT a week, which is good.
In my stressing about money yesterday, I did manage to do a lot of laundry until I ran out of detergent. There is more cleaning to do tonight.
Ok, I managed to finish the bulk of what needed to be done with the credit lines. I still have other stuff, but since the program crashed, I can work on it a little at a time over the next few days, which is good. Maryann paid me, too, so this is all good to have the money ready for soccer.
My morning appears to be over, thankfully, which means I can zone out this afternoon. Woo hoo!
Monday, May 10, 2010
USA
5-5-10
I am American.
It is a statement that isn’t said enough these days. The last time I was really patriotic was in 1984. I remember coloring my cardboard sign before my family headed down to the Los Angeles Coliseum to watch the Olympics. My sign was simple. It said in big bold letters, U.S.A. I was proud. I didn’t care what event I was witnessing. I just was excited to see my country compete. I loved that even though I didn’t know any of the athletes back stories, I had a built in team to route for.
I have changed so much in the last 25 years. So has America.
Cultures have thrived here. People from all walks of life flock to the land of opportunity. Be it from countries that border our own nation to ones over seas, we have expanded beyond our initial melting pot. The fondue that oozes over the land is rich with tradition and pride. No longer does my child have to look forward to a backpacking trip in Europe when they could probably get just as much backpacking in Downtown LA.
Our doors have always been open. They had to be. We didn’t come from here. Most of the blood that flows here traces back to everywhere but here. We are English. We are French. We are African. We are Mexican. We are Japanese. But the one thing we forget is that when we are here, we are supposed to be American. Not some hyphenated version of American. Just American.
By being American, it doesn’t mean to abandon our roots. There is no danger of this happening even if I thought it was a good idea. We celebrate Cinco de Mayo, St. Patrick’s day and Black History Month. We have Quinceaneras for our daughters and a Bris for our sons. Our roots are the threads of the complex American quilt that blankets us. It warms us when we are cold and it keeps us safe in making sure we appreciate the hardships our ancestors had.
But by being American, it also has some responsibilities. The biggest thing is not what language you speak or what beliefs you hold. In order to be American, you have to BE American. Just as you have to have a Costco card to shop there and a ticket to get into Disneyland, you need to have some form of citizenship to reap the benefits of this great country.
I am not talking about the folks just passing through. I am not talking about the ones who have work permits. The ones that concern me are the very ones that have been debated my whole life; illegal immigrants.
I understand the desire to come here. Especially when you are coming from a poor or otherwise lesser country that doesn’t present opportunity like America does. You want to provide for your children. You want to put in a hard day’s work. You want to make a difference. These are all incredibly respectable. But how can you look at yourself in the mirror every day and not see the shame you bring yourself, and the complete lack of respect you have for the place that is helping you out?
People in this country illegally take full advantage of the system, without giving back enough. There are huge costs involved with people crossing the border illegally. In a study I read, it indicates that households headed by illegal aliens imposed more than $26.3 billion in costs for the government, yet only paid $16 billion in taxes. That is a lot of cash! I know that most people hate taxes. Did it ever occur to people that some of the reasons our taxes are so high is because we are covering people who don’t pay taxes? Why is it that our cost of opportunity is so much higher when we were born here yet people breaking the laws get a pass?
I am ok with amnesty. I am ok with closing the borders. I think I am even ok with Arizona implementing laws to make it easier to enforce an already existing law. It is a shame that it has come to that. We have had to resort to carrying our papers in order to prove that we are here legally. But as a society, we brought this on ourselves. We gladly purchase products that are from companies that hire illegal workers. Even my own father, who is a staunch supporter of closing the borders has bought a bag of peanuts from the guy standing at the freeway off ramp.
There are rallies where people chant “Si se puede”. Yes they can what? Continue to abuse a country who has been good enough to look the other way at their obvious lack of respect for the law? I know there are some that work hard to try and get a visa or that truly become a part of our country. But there are too many that don’t.
It is time that our country takes more pride in how great we really are. We are a country rich in culture. We will never be milky white, nor should we be. That being said, we also need to be loyal to the people who love our country. Not the ones who simply use and abuse it. I don’t care if you hate Obama. I don’t care if you like Sarah Palin. I don’t care if you prefer Conan to Leno. The only thing that makes any difference to me is that you respect what this country is.
I would never fault anyone who was working towards getting citizenship and it just takes time. All I ask is that you take that time to try. You want a better life for your kids? You want to come to the land of opportunity to do this? That is great, truly, but know this. By continuing to use our resources without giving back, there won’t be much of a land left for them. Is it any shock that California is broke?
To be American means to love America. I have taken it for granted for years while fantasizing about living everywhere from England to Canada to Australia. I crush on Brits and lately Irish folks (who coincidently always seem to be gay, but that is a whole different blog). I have been frustrated with our government and have even considered not voting since I didn’t think my meager voice mattered. But in the last few years, I have seen that even though we have our faults, at least we can. So many other countries don’t have the freedoms we have. I would imagine there are some in which something like a Tea Party might result in multiple deaths. We are a nation full of good hearted people that have not only tried to help our own, but reached out to other countries in time of need to assist in tragedy. I am starting to be pretty proud to wear red white and blue together.
I just hope that other people feel the same way. I hope that the people that truly care about the future of our country understand that changes need to be made. The workers coming to our country without papers are called illegal for a reason. They are breaking the law. The laws our forefathers fought to have the right to impose. The rules that have kept us moving forward and continued to evolve as a great country. Our rules may not all make a lot of sense. Banning gay marriage and making pot illegal seem really silly. Yet these are things that if were legal would not hurt anyone. Allowing people into our country, paying them, and yet not collecting taxes or having them go through the motions to be a citizen does.
More power to you Arizona. I know that there are many that think your actions take us back to a time when a short guy with a bad mustache tried to rule the world. But in reality, you aren’t trying to take over another country. You are taking back the one that is already ours.
I am American.
It is a statement that isn’t said enough these days. The last time I was really patriotic was in 1984. I remember coloring my cardboard sign before my family headed down to the Los Angeles Coliseum to watch the Olympics. My sign was simple. It said in big bold letters, U.S.A. I was proud. I didn’t care what event I was witnessing. I just was excited to see my country compete. I loved that even though I didn’t know any of the athletes back stories, I had a built in team to route for.
I have changed so much in the last 25 years. So has America.
Cultures have thrived here. People from all walks of life flock to the land of opportunity. Be it from countries that border our own nation to ones over seas, we have expanded beyond our initial melting pot. The fondue that oozes over the land is rich with tradition and pride. No longer does my child have to look forward to a backpacking trip in Europe when they could probably get just as much backpacking in Downtown LA.
Our doors have always been open. They had to be. We didn’t come from here. Most of the blood that flows here traces back to everywhere but here. We are English. We are French. We are African. We are Mexican. We are Japanese. But the one thing we forget is that when we are here, we are supposed to be American. Not some hyphenated version of American. Just American.
By being American, it doesn’t mean to abandon our roots. There is no danger of this happening even if I thought it was a good idea. We celebrate Cinco de Mayo, St. Patrick’s day and Black History Month. We have Quinceaneras for our daughters and a Bris for our sons. Our roots are the threads of the complex American quilt that blankets us. It warms us when we are cold and it keeps us safe in making sure we appreciate the hardships our ancestors had.
But by being American, it also has some responsibilities. The biggest thing is not what language you speak or what beliefs you hold. In order to be American, you have to BE American. Just as you have to have a Costco card to shop there and a ticket to get into Disneyland, you need to have some form of citizenship to reap the benefits of this great country.
I am not talking about the folks just passing through. I am not talking about the ones who have work permits. The ones that concern me are the very ones that have been debated my whole life; illegal immigrants.
I understand the desire to come here. Especially when you are coming from a poor or otherwise lesser country that doesn’t present opportunity like America does. You want to provide for your children. You want to put in a hard day’s work. You want to make a difference. These are all incredibly respectable. But how can you look at yourself in the mirror every day and not see the shame you bring yourself, and the complete lack of respect you have for the place that is helping you out?
People in this country illegally take full advantage of the system, without giving back enough. There are huge costs involved with people crossing the border illegally. In a study I read, it indicates that households headed by illegal aliens imposed more than $26.3 billion in costs for the government, yet only paid $16 billion in taxes. That is a lot of cash! I know that most people hate taxes. Did it ever occur to people that some of the reasons our taxes are so high is because we are covering people who don’t pay taxes? Why is it that our cost of opportunity is so much higher when we were born here yet people breaking the laws get a pass?
I am ok with amnesty. I am ok with closing the borders. I think I am even ok with Arizona implementing laws to make it easier to enforce an already existing law. It is a shame that it has come to that. We have had to resort to carrying our papers in order to prove that we are here legally. But as a society, we brought this on ourselves. We gladly purchase products that are from companies that hire illegal workers. Even my own father, who is a staunch supporter of closing the borders has bought a bag of peanuts from the guy standing at the freeway off ramp.
There are rallies where people chant “Si se puede”. Yes they can what? Continue to abuse a country who has been good enough to look the other way at their obvious lack of respect for the law? I know there are some that work hard to try and get a visa or that truly become a part of our country. But there are too many that don’t.
It is time that our country takes more pride in how great we really are. We are a country rich in culture. We will never be milky white, nor should we be. That being said, we also need to be loyal to the people who love our country. Not the ones who simply use and abuse it. I don’t care if you hate Obama. I don’t care if you like Sarah Palin. I don’t care if you prefer Conan to Leno. The only thing that makes any difference to me is that you respect what this country is.
I would never fault anyone who was working towards getting citizenship and it just takes time. All I ask is that you take that time to try. You want a better life for your kids? You want to come to the land of opportunity to do this? That is great, truly, but know this. By continuing to use our resources without giving back, there won’t be much of a land left for them. Is it any shock that California is broke?
To be American means to love America. I have taken it for granted for years while fantasizing about living everywhere from England to Canada to Australia. I crush on Brits and lately Irish folks (who coincidently always seem to be gay, but that is a whole different blog). I have been frustrated with our government and have even considered not voting since I didn’t think my meager voice mattered. But in the last few years, I have seen that even though we have our faults, at least we can. So many other countries don’t have the freedoms we have. I would imagine there are some in which something like a Tea Party might result in multiple deaths. We are a nation full of good hearted people that have not only tried to help our own, but reached out to other countries in time of need to assist in tragedy. I am starting to be pretty proud to wear red white and blue together.
I just hope that other people feel the same way. I hope that the people that truly care about the future of our country understand that changes need to be made. The workers coming to our country without papers are called illegal for a reason. They are breaking the law. The laws our forefathers fought to have the right to impose. The rules that have kept us moving forward and continued to evolve as a great country. Our rules may not all make a lot of sense. Banning gay marriage and making pot illegal seem really silly. Yet these are things that if were legal would not hurt anyone. Allowing people into our country, paying them, and yet not collecting taxes or having them go through the motions to be a citizen does.
More power to you Arizona. I know that there are many that think your actions take us back to a time when a short guy with a bad mustache tried to rule the world. But in reality, you aren’t trying to take over another country. You are taking back the one that is already ours.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Kevin Smith
I shockingly have not mentioned the Kevin Smith stuff up to this point. He is my personal lord and savior, and so when someone not only takes his name in vain, but take his entire body in vain, I take offense. The short version of the story is that Kevin was kicked off a Southwest Airlines flight for being too fat. There is a lot of debate on whether or not SW was correct in removing a passenger for their size. Really, what should be discussed is just what does an airline want to provide their customers? As of right now, flying sucks. You have security issues, you have the price which seems to include no amenities even though it is expensive, wait times, delayed flights, lost baggage, have I convinced anyone yet that flying is a better alternative to driving?
SW has maintained that a larger passenger poses safety risks and makes the other passengers around them uncomfortable. Have they considered that there are plenty of other passengers that do the exact same thing? Babies are loud and often scream and cry on flights. There are obnoxious toddlers. There are people who snore. There are people who stink. There are people with broken legs. There are people with colds. There are people that are rude. Overall, most flights have one or more of these people on them, and we have always accepted them because in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t a luxury flight. We are using air travel as a way to get from point A to point B in a relatively short time. This isn’t supposed to be a limo in the sky.
If the women sitting on either side of Kevin had a problem, shouldn’t they just suck it up? It was a 45 minute flight. Plus, I can safely say if they didn’t want to sit to my man, Silent Bob, there was probably someone on that flight who would be more than willing to trade seats with them. Why didn’t SW consider that to be an option? I was on a flight with SW once in which I happened to be seated in the emergency aisle which has more leg room. A young guy got in the plane who couldn’t be shorter than 7 foot. The flight attendant asked me very nicely if I would mind sitting in the back of the flight so this taller guy could sit in the roomier area. I was more than happy to oblige. Plus, they made it up to me by giving me free drinks and a giant bag of their snack peanuts just to thank me. I am not kidding when I say, that was the greatest flight of my life, and I would tell everyone how great they were as an airline. Where did this level of service go?
There are rules, which I understand. We need rules in order to maintain order and to provide customers with the best possible experience. But we all know the rules of airline travel are subject to change at any second. I have gotten on a flight with a sippy cup full of milk, despite there being strict rules about not being allowed to. I have watched people take on carry on luggage that doesn’t fit in the little measurement box, and then watched other people who happened to get on the flight late have to have their bag checked when they did follow the rules. Even Kevin pointed out that there was a man who was larger than him on the flight who was not kicked off his flight. Nothing is consistent.
I know the economy is bad and they have to save money, but is the right way to do this by turning away customers because they don’t all look exactly alike? When we order tickets on line, are we going to have to have a full body scan before we can even enter our credit card number?
Last year, we flew on SW for our trip to Colorado. On our way home, Dax had a broken leg, I needed an extension for the seat belt, and both boys were exhausted. We had to wait 3 hours for our flight which got delayed by weather, and when we all got on the last leg of our flight, the attendants couldn’t be nicer. They provided me with extra pillows for my poor casted 2 year old. She even went back to where Ken and Bobby were sitting and got me Dax’s blanket so I wouldn’t have to get up. They were so wonderful to our little family, and I am shocked that this same company could be so rude to so many other passengers, even if they are not as cool as Kevin Smith.
I am disappointed in SW and even though I don’t know that I will swear off their services in the future for my flying needs, I am definitely concerned about flying anywhere. Even if I manage to get my fat ass down to a more healthy size, it is worrisome that something can still possibly disrupt my passenger status. I do feel that although I don’t think Kevin deserves any special treatment simply because of his enormous talent, they do owe him a better apology for treating him like an enormous pain.
SW has maintained that a larger passenger poses safety risks and makes the other passengers around them uncomfortable. Have they considered that there are plenty of other passengers that do the exact same thing? Babies are loud and often scream and cry on flights. There are obnoxious toddlers. There are people who snore. There are people who stink. There are people with broken legs. There are people with colds. There are people that are rude. Overall, most flights have one or more of these people on them, and we have always accepted them because in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t a luxury flight. We are using air travel as a way to get from point A to point B in a relatively short time. This isn’t supposed to be a limo in the sky.
If the women sitting on either side of Kevin had a problem, shouldn’t they just suck it up? It was a 45 minute flight. Plus, I can safely say if they didn’t want to sit to my man, Silent Bob, there was probably someone on that flight who would be more than willing to trade seats with them. Why didn’t SW consider that to be an option? I was on a flight with SW once in which I happened to be seated in the emergency aisle which has more leg room. A young guy got in the plane who couldn’t be shorter than 7 foot. The flight attendant asked me very nicely if I would mind sitting in the back of the flight so this taller guy could sit in the roomier area. I was more than happy to oblige. Plus, they made it up to me by giving me free drinks and a giant bag of their snack peanuts just to thank me. I am not kidding when I say, that was the greatest flight of my life, and I would tell everyone how great they were as an airline. Where did this level of service go?
There are rules, which I understand. We need rules in order to maintain order and to provide customers with the best possible experience. But we all know the rules of airline travel are subject to change at any second. I have gotten on a flight with a sippy cup full of milk, despite there being strict rules about not being allowed to. I have watched people take on carry on luggage that doesn’t fit in the little measurement box, and then watched other people who happened to get on the flight late have to have their bag checked when they did follow the rules. Even Kevin pointed out that there was a man who was larger than him on the flight who was not kicked off his flight. Nothing is consistent.
I know the economy is bad and they have to save money, but is the right way to do this by turning away customers because they don’t all look exactly alike? When we order tickets on line, are we going to have to have a full body scan before we can even enter our credit card number?
Last year, we flew on SW for our trip to Colorado. On our way home, Dax had a broken leg, I needed an extension for the seat belt, and both boys were exhausted. We had to wait 3 hours for our flight which got delayed by weather, and when we all got on the last leg of our flight, the attendants couldn’t be nicer. They provided me with extra pillows for my poor casted 2 year old. She even went back to where Ken and Bobby were sitting and got me Dax’s blanket so I wouldn’t have to get up. They were so wonderful to our little family, and I am shocked that this same company could be so rude to so many other passengers, even if they are not as cool as Kevin Smith.
I am disappointed in SW and even though I don’t know that I will swear off their services in the future for my flying needs, I am definitely concerned about flying anywhere. Even if I manage to get my fat ass down to a more healthy size, it is worrisome that something can still possibly disrupt my passenger status. I do feel that although I don’t think Kevin deserves any special treatment simply because of his enormous talent, they do owe him a better apology for treating him like an enormous pain.
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