But if y’all keep messing with my kids I will gladly sport both.
In the middle of a busy airport – arguably the busiest airport – the Mistress of Chaos courted trouble. I had a dayum good reason though. Let’s start at sort of the beginning.
After 3 weeks away my Tweenager was coming home. She was flying by herself for the first time. To arguably THE BUSIEST AIRPORT IN THE WORLD. Because traffic in this beautiful city is trash 24/7, I did not make it to the airport in time to meet her at the gate. But I sent her a text that says “I am on my way, give me a minute.” After getting my gate pass, going through security, and just about to the gate, my beautifully scatter brained daughter sends me a text that she is on her way to baggage claim.
SAY WHAT?!
Scramble back to domestic terminal, position myself somewhere between baggage claim and the escalator to heaven and start crowd scanning. At the same time I am calling her repeatedly – to no avail. When I finally get her to answer she is in FULL FREAK OUT mode. Like tears and hysterics. Apparently she managed to get herself to INTERNATIONAL baggage claim. The person in the info booth speaks English as a 50th language and Tweenager can’t understand a dayum thing she is saying. She is so lost, and she doesn’t want to answer the phone because her father (the ex) is calling her and she HATES talking to her father.
Side note: The Ex does not have a proper throttle. It is all the way pissed, or monotonous. He does not realise that yelling at her for not staying put is not helping, it is only freaking her out more.
Friends – I don’t do stress well. This entire scenario is flashing horror stories before my eyes. My Tweenager is 12, but she is cute. I am not just saying this because she is my baby girl and I am biased. I saying this because she is genuinely gorgeous. She is freaking out and I am freaking out, and I can’t protect her in this moment. But I am trying to be calm and collected and someone that she can draw strength from. Me – the bi-polar mess.
I asked her to find a place to sit and stay there, I am coming for her. I approach an airport employee, and say “I am trying not to freak out. My 12 yr old daughter is at international baggage claim and can’t figure out how to get back. How do I go get her?”
“You can’t go over there.”
(what the fvck did you just say?!?!?!?!?!?!?!)
“You can tell her how to get here though. Just tell her to get back on the train and stay on it until she sees ‘Domestic Baggage Claim’.”
Excuse me while I go ghetto for just a moment:
Dis muddafukka did not just tell me I cannot go get my child! How da hi holy fvck am I supposed to tell her how to get back here when she’s in panic mode?!
I call Tween back and ask her if she can follow those directions, she says she can. As I am talking to her the ex is calling – again. I am so done now. I need him to shut up and let her think. While I give her some time to figure it out, I told him to get off the phone and let her figure this out because she can’t think when he is talking to her. Then she calls me back. She is even more hysterical, she has gone back to where she thought the tram is, but she can’t get there, and the signs are all confusing. I told her that I am going to find someone who can either get me there, or go get her. I tell her to find a seat and wait. Don’t move, just wait.
I find a person in a security uniform this time. She tells me that Yes I can go there, and to either take the int’l terminal shuttle, or just drive over. Ok, much better. I have walked away from the ex to get this information, so I call him and tell him I am driving over there to get her and I am currently at the baggage claim to get Tween’s bag. As I am standing in baggage claim I see her bag come down the shoot. There is an airline representative that has been staring down my throat while I am alternately talking to the ex, the Tween, and airport personnel. He absolutely has to know the entire story by now, and instead of being compassionate he becomes a potential victim. I grabbed her bag from the carousel and start to walk toward my car.
“Excuse me.”
I growled “Is there a problem?”
“Yes, you are taking that bag to ticketing, you can’t do that.”
“I am not going to ticketing, I am going to my CAR, to get my 12 yr old DAUGHTER, who is stuck at the international terminal.”
“You can’t take the bag”
“Why the fvck can I not take my DAUGHTER’S bag?”
“I need to compare the sticker from the ticket.”
“I just told you that she is STUCK in the WRONG FVCKING TERMINAL!!! Of course I don’t have the stickers!”
“But you can’t-“
“LOOK ASSHAT. She is 12, she is freaking the fvck out, and no one in this airport seems to give a dayum that a 12 yr old GIRL is LOST in this AIRPORT!”
Now we have an audience. More airline/airport personnel are now interested in what is going on.
“Well, do you know what is in the bag?”
“HER CLOTHES?!” (my entire face completed the sentence with ‘wtf do you think is in there?!’)
He drops his shoulders like “of course she has clothes, broad, be specific”.
“… a costume, maybe her clarinet?” (My voice is cracking at this point, as I mentally evaluate what my other half can liquidate quickly to bail me out of jail after I get arrested for punching this self-important windbag.)
This waste of space takes the bag from me opens a corner of the bag, peeks in (I mean lifts the corner a tiny bit, glances in a corner of the bag, then closes that corner). He then gives me the bag back. I almost backhanded him. He wasted 5 minutes of my life for WHAT?! I was going to jail for certain at this point. And then the Ex walks up.
For those of you who haven’t realized – I am melanin blessed. I’m the first generation daughter of an immigrant. My hair is naturally kinky and I wear it that way with pride. This is significant because all the players in the above scenario are melanin blessed. Except for my blond haired, blue eyed ex. They see him walking up behind me and now I can walk away? I wanted gut this MF just for fun.
In the end I got the girl. She is fine. I don’t think I will be fine for a while. I may have to avoid the airport until I feel less like burning the place to the ground.
Chaotically Controlled 