Okay, I was reading and posting in the the diary about wearing a obscene t-shirt on public transportation. People were arguing if the Jon Stewart inspired t-shirt: Meet the Fuckers was freedom of political speech or not.
But, it reminded me of my worst airplane ride ever, not because of a t-shirt, but because of pure lack of foresight.
This story is meant to brighten your day, since all the other items posted here tend to make you sad and angry.
Enjoy, this is my story about how Texans can be complete dumb asses without even meaning to be...
After seeing 9-11 ringside, I went down to North Carolina to clear some land and basically clear my head. I took the Torah, the Koran and my well-worn Bible down to read all three and basically figure out where the middle ground was.
On the flight back to NYC for a court appearance (for drinking a 40 on Bedsty at 3am, which is another funny story in itself. I required 6 cop cars!), I gave my Torah to friend in NC who wanted to read it and dropped the Bible in box to be sent back home to Texas. Which left me with the Koran.
Little did I know, since I was out in the forest, that having grown my hair long and a full beard, that I was now the spitting of the American Taliban dude, Walker.
So, there I was holding a one way ticket to JFK in NYC with only a Koran in my backpack looking like a junior-varsity member for the Taliban. Needless to say I not only got to take off my shoes, but other clothing items as well. Now, I have a thick Texas accent, so they knew I was a good old boy, they were just wondering what team I played for. They told me they would only believe my rather inane story of why I only had a Koran and looked like a terrorist on a one way trip to NYC was if I shaved my beard off.
No problem, a nice Southern gentlemen even bought me a razor. After the shave I rushed to the plane, which was being held for 'security reasons', IE my dumb ass.
I got into the doorway in the plane and all eyes saw me with my thick brown hair and fresh red face from shaving set against a dark and seemingly Middle Eastern skin (I need to note I turn a dark olive when in the sun, and could easily pass for a Syrian to a Persian.). Uneasy moment would not even do this justice to describe the situation.
Just as I am about to start the walk of shame down the aisle to my seat, the security dude pops his head in the hatch and yells:
"Sir, you forgot your Koran."
Needless to say, my trip was utter hell. But I did get my hair cut by my favorite Italian barber the second I landed in Brooklyn.
And as you can probably guess, when I fly now, I have to add in a full hour for pre-board, because my name, through no fault of my own except for being a Texas-sized dumb ass who thought flying back to NYC with a one way ticket looking like a terrorist carrying only a Koran seemed like a perfectly good idea, is mud.