Dear Ms. Flight Attendant

Dear Ms. Northwest Flight Attendant,

I get it. We scare you. I scare you. My cousin (who is frankly adorable), scares you. Her little brother scares you. He is a rather tall, dark presence. No matter that you really don’t know anything about us. Where we come from. What we stand for. Who we are.  The Indian lady in front of us with two little infants scares you. Brown people scare you. Everyone scares you. We get it. A lot of things scare you after 9-11. Maybe you don’t have a lot of gas stations in Tennessee. Who knows?

But really. Were all the brown people’s coats really in the way? Did we all really have to shift our seats for your peace of mind? Never mind the extra minutes of security we went through. All the gawking folks. The airline pilot in the lobby who tried to convince us that our cousin (who is frankly adorable), was a terrorist because she left her bags with us when she went to Starbucks. But anyway, were all of our bags really the only ones that needed to be moved “in case of turbulence”? Did you really not “understand” what we were saying? And why did you repeat those emergency measures a couple of extra times? And look our way every time you said “emergency.” And wring your hands nervously every time you tried to talk to us. And throw away our water bottles? And then claim you were all out of water bottles? And then bring back the same one you just threw away in the trash because the baby was thirsty? I’d like to see you try that with another passenger. Really? I didn’t think so.

Look, I know you’re nervous. I’m nervous too. Probably more than you. But maybe next time you can spend your time honing up on your personal defense skills or taking charm classes before giving us kids a hard time. Really, just do your job. If I wanted to jump your plane, I would’ve done it by now. That’s a joke. Really. Please don’t kick me out. I have work on Monday.

Thanks,

PG