Today I allowed myself to feel broke and I feel absolutely awful about it. Cheap I can handle, but impoverished has a particular bite that stings long after the initial pain sets in... there has to be a special strand of rabies attached to it or something.
If you didn't know, American Airlines has a new policy for people like me. Armed with Priceline, Trip Advisor, Google Flights and the willpower to buy my seats at least two weeks in advance, I purchased a one-way trip from Atlanta back to Dallas for a mere $60. What a deal right? Before you give me kudos for being such a scrupulous shopper, you should know this is not a love story.
As I arrived at Hartsfield-Jackson Airport, I left my $37 Uber high on the hog. Per usual I had only brought my travel essentials (a carry on and a laptop bag) with me, so I made my way to the check-in kiosk with a slight pep in my step. I breezed through the customary questions until an unfamiliar alert popped up on my screen. Apparently, my cheapy-the-cheapskate seats no longer allow for a personal item and a carry-on. I had to choose one and pay an additional $25 fee to have the other checked.
Using my low-income brain, I just put my personal item inside my carry on effectively eliminating the problem... or so I thought. An assistant came over to verify my selection, and soon enough I was off.
Within seconds of arriving at my gate, it was clear that the flight was fully booked. I was happy that I had saved enough pennies to afford my Group 9 Seat 14A slot because there was no way I would have made it if I tried to fly standby. However, that happiness quickly turned into alarm when I saw two airline assistants break into a full sprint down the airplane tunnel after they noticed that an Asian family's carry-ons fit the new poor people's dimensions. Conspicuously adjusted a couple inches below the norm to weed out the riff-raff, they made sure that the whole line knew that they had no intention of giving any slack... not even for children. Their cackles and apathy towards the unsuspecting family, completely disoriented by their joy in identifying another sub-premium customer, spelled doom for me. I thought it was just one bag?
"Step to the side, sir. That will be $50."
Puzzled, I asked why the price for checking what was usually a universal carryon had doubled.
"You should have paid at check-in."
The air of patronization was palatable, but I didn't argue. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a $100 bill.
"We don't take cash."
The expression on attendants face was as if I was trying to repay a title loan with Monopoly money, so I pulled out my Bank of America card. I silently thanked my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, as is the receipt printed. I knew I had money, but the look of ultimate satisfaction on the attendant's face would have been unbearable if it had declined. Not only that, there would be no grace should any complication happen to arise.
No thank you was given for choosing their airline, but I did receive the sidest of eyes for thinking they would take my now checked bag to the proper place for me. My full suit complete with Calvin Klein dress shoes certainly didn't fool them, I was obviously a blue-collar stow away that their airline gentrification program was designed to filter out. I had escaped this round, but they'll surely get me next time.
"It serves me right though, I should have paid $50 more for an upgrade that I didn't feel was necessary."
Immediately after that thought, a more inferior idea popped into my head.
"You know what, I should request an upgrade. It'll hold up the line, give these rude people extra work, cost me only a few dollars more, show them I'm not the one to be looked down on, and allow me to keep my bags. Yea that'll show them."
The thought left almost as quickly as it came, but not without leaving a disgusting residue behind. I had actually started thinking like a person with low-self worth... attempting to spend more money on bad service, to declare myself worthy of excellent service, while inconveniencing others who were already suffering just as much as me.
Similar to Drake and Fatboy SSE, I was upset and became withdrawn for the rest of the trip. I didn't even indulge in my signature Ginger Ale that I drink every time I fly. Now that my baggage had cost me almost as much as my entire trip, I was inspired to think about more weightier matters. Like a particular artist that recently stopped womanizing as a result of having a daughter, I too felt a change of heart when the long reach of big business touched me inappropriately.
"Join me as I boycott American Airlines."
That is not a phrase that I will be posting on social media, but I did think about making it the title of this article. Reason brought me back from the brink of making that decision. Before posting the article, I went to the American Airlines website, and sure enough, the new policy was there. I kept digging, and on my Priceline ticket, there was a familiar message.
Important Information
American Airlines
You have selected a Basic Economy fare. The following restrictions apply:
Only 1 personal item that fits under the seat (No access to overhead bin)
Seats assigned at check-in
Not eligible for upgrades*
No flight changes or refunds*
Board in last group
*Rules apply to all passengers including AAdvantage elites Airline change penalties and restrictions apply.
Airline Tickets are non-transferrable. Name changes or adjustments are not allowed.
You will be issued electronic tickets. Remember to bring a valid government-issued photo ID with you to check-in.
I was suddenly relieved that I didn't try for the upgrade... and happy that I didn't post an article highlighting my inability to read clear instructions. Still, I had done all this work. I was only a few seconds away from posting a sarcastic response to predatory pricing, ghetto loans and other pricing issues that really did exist (click here to read what this could have been). I could have easily paraded my sour grapes as an opportunity to expose classism and even racism, all the while tarnishing a company's reputation, but something just wouldn't allow me to do it. The real title of this article should be L&W (Loud & Wrong) because that is what I was. I kept the allusion to a classic Dave Chappelle episode because it really is funny how perspective can make all the difference.
Those attendants could have been frustrated with yet another group of passengers that had refused to read or comply with their new guidelines, or recently been chewed out by a supervisor who saw them being lax on the rules. This likely could have resulted in the tart manner in which they treated violators. But what about my intense feelings of humiliation, condescension, and targeting? I strongly felt them, so their presence justifies my literary vengeance right? Eh... not so much.
I think there is a moment where we are faced with new information and have the choice to hold on to the emotions of a limited perspective or accept the reality that effectively nullifies the logic behind them. I didn't like how the facts were presented to me, but I wouldn't have had to deal with a harsh re-introduction if I had merely followed directions.
I keep this episode close to me because I increasingly see articulate, gifted, and often mesmerizing speakers refuse to recognize the faulty premise of their position. They are frequently faced with attendants, who know the truth but don't possess the oratory skills to convincingly express it. In these situations, the presence, celebrity, passion, and wit of the transgressor effectively masquerade righteousness when they are flat out wrong. Facts are dismissed, opponents are immediately disqualified, and the entire narrative revolves around the feelings of one individual. Truly it is arrogance in the highest form, using real issues to mobilize an uninformed populace to fight a personal vendetta. One would expect this of children, but grown men and women do it every day. They even have the nerve to get offended when you call them out on it.
I thank God that he continually checks me before I head into L&W land because L&W people always look like complete and utter fools in the end. People gradually stop telling them how crazy they sound and just allow them "to be," because they are fed up. They wait until the narcissist meets another of the same nature but in a higher position of authority or for an outrageous outburst where force has to be used to crush them.
Moral of the story, think very hard about who and why you are about to throw shade. My best advice is to refrain from throwing salt at all, but if you must speak out, do so after thoroughly analyzing your actions that led up to the event in question. I know many of us live in America, and you can say anything you want to say, but you can also lose your job, your platform, and the respect of your colleagues for saying everything that your feelings lead you to believe.
Take it from someone who's been louder and wronger than most, it's a blessing just to remain quiet sometimes.