Monday, March 01, 2010

A Night with FlyG In Three Acts: Act 3 Dementia
We Are What Is Wrong With America

We step outside as Fly G, one of my oldest friends in New York, looks around befuddled. "Could I bum a ciggy off of you?" He lisps to a nearby boy in a long coat who looks alone and scared at Gym Bar, a bar full of the old and uninteresting, but this night the awkward air of immobility is broken by my friend who has just picked a vicious fight with a rival flight attendant that has gone--for the most part--unreciprocated.

The boy gives Fly G a cig which he toys with in his mouth, he is lit up and starts smoking like a novice; waving his hands around too much and puffing audibly.

We notice that the Delta Flight attendant is talking to another boy in the bar. "Who does he think he is? Bitchy queen!" My friend Fly G scoffs as I chug down my drink, "can you believe he got all upset about you drinking his drink? I bought it! I can say who drinks and when!"

Fly G angrily finishes his cigarette as we step back into the bar. This time the Delta Flight attendant address Fly G with a more pronounced slur. "You know it's a damn shame how you treat me, and how we treat each other," the Delta flight attendant says, "you know people like us--people in our profession--we used to watch out for each other...we HAD to! Now we just at each other!"

Fly G says something while assuming a bitch-ass stance, that is a finger waving in front of his face and his other hand on his back hip. I saddle up next to the Delta flight attendants friend and introduce myself, he responds "Hi, I don't actually know him, he just went up to me and started talking about flight attendants."

"Are we ok?!" I hear the Delta man say, "are we good? Because I don't want to fight you!"
"We are good, we were good..." Fly G says with a pang of what I am astonished to think of sounds like guilt. "We were fine until you called me a bigot!" Fly G finishes.

"I never called you a bigot!!" The delta man slurs.

The boy I was talking to goes "uh oh" and skedaddles. I watch with great anticipation, I am unabashedly a fan of train wrecks with victims, at the very least it can be said that I know myself and can admit this readily.

Some more crazy words are exchanged between these two drunken flight attending titans. They are like immobile mountains, each standing tall against the other, no sign of an attack, but their sedentary bases are slowly overtaking each other's rock.

The man from Delta wants to stop this it seems, he says, "We gotta stick together, pure and simple. Let's say you're flying to France and you get stranded...oh wait I forgot...your airline doesn't fly to France!"

"Good luck with Delta they let go of people all the time!" Fly G shoots back.

"Delta was here BEFORE, and it will be there AFTER!" He says as we retreat back to the outside patio.

You might ask yourself why is this continuing? At least I hope you are, because it was here that I was furiously attempting to recall the details of the entire night as I tried to find the answer to this question myself. We weren't having fun, we were all fighting, and to prove what??

Fly G found a lone polish boy who was smoking, he told him something and the Polish boy nodded. It was here that the Delta flight attendant followed us out to the patio and told me specifically "Oh he can keep talking about me! He's acting like a BITCH!"

"I don't care that you work for Delta or that you think you're hot shit, the truth is they hired a bunch of trashy faggy flight attendants 2 years ago! That's how I knew you worked for them."

The Delta man looked at me and said with an almost sober tone, "Your friend is beautiful...but a BITCH!" He scoured off away, finally, after about an hour long ordeal. Fly G turned to the Polish boy and said "you think I was acting like a bitch?"

The Polish boy thought for a moment, he nodded his head, "yes a little bit."

"I can't believe this."

Fly G stormed back inside and I followed, thankful that this was over, but a little disappointed at the resolution. There was no blood spilt and no permanent bruises, still it was as beautifully pointless as any fight should be.

Fly G had some more to drink. "Two people called me a bitch tonight," he lamented, "that Delta cocksucker and the stupid Polish boy, I was only talking to him for you," he confessed.

"Really? I didn't care for him."

"I told him I was having a fight with a dumb black south african Delta cocksucker and he told me he knew how the blacks could get, har har," said Fly G.

"So he was weird looking and a racist, thanks bud," we shared a drink and I had to go home, tired. Fly G would stay behind no doubt to have another drink and troll for thug boys on his Grindr app.



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