RULES OF TRAVEL

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NEW RULES:

Unless you have one of those blocky multi-faced electric converters/adapters chances are high you'll unplug your machine and totally forget about the converter attachment until you go to plug it in again. It's happened to me about four times. Doh! To remedy this I've begun taping the attachment to the cord and now I am always mindful of it. The fact that the tape job is a little tacky works in my favor; it reminds me that it's there.

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No trouble going through UK & EU

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It's been nearly a week since I left NYC and came across the pond and it's worth saying that I had no hiccups, stress, beef or third-degree passing my black ass through English officials at Heathrow Airport or German border patrol at Berlin's Tegel Airport. No twenty questions, no sarcastic undertones, no snarky attitude, nothing remotely racist--- like the Qúebecunt border patrol.

I had forgotten it could be so easy. I felt like a white person.

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Sunday brunch, tipping, unlimited mimosas (NYC)

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A German acquaintance wrote to me about my New Rules regarding tipping in Europe and it suggested to my mind to share last Sunday's episode in NYC:

By the way, Happy Fourth of July. Woo-hoo! So a friend and I met for a late Sunday brunch last week. It was, incidentally, NYC's homosexual celebration day (Pride, they call it. Go figure). I didn't run into any of the circus until after eating so my appetite was still intact. The cafe my friend originally suggested was, to our surprise, completely closed and emptied out ---talk about a New York minute!--- so we settled two doors down at Bar-B-Q, a macho sounding diner-esque eatery on the fringe of chi-chi Chelsea where nothing is diner and nothing but blatino hustlers are macho.

I had eaten here before because they used to offer mojitos. Mojitos were no longer on the menu but, for Sunday brunch, one could have either mimosas, bloody marys or some other drink I can't recall in unlimited quantities for the duration of 60 minutes. Fast forward to the end of the meal: the bill of fare.

Brunch prix fixe was $13.95. Our bill was thirty dollars solid. We each only had a twenty-dollar note. I thought to leave a $10 tip was outrageous and my friend, who has adopted NY as his permanent residence, offered little in the way of argument. Is that not too much? I said. Yeah maybe, he answered. So it was settled: we'd leave a $5 dollar tip and split the other five for train fare. Well! 

This pretty boy motherfucker waiter, probably a homo jock, looked at us and said, the motherfucker actually said, "Wow. I, like, served you, what, six or seven mimosas?" And I said, "Yes thank you for reminding me. Five dollars please."

So homeboy pulls out this WAD of money from under his apron and flips pass ten- and twenty-dollar bills ---billssss...plural--- to peel us off an Abe Lincoln; he, the waiter, has more money than the two of us and I, me, had to sleep in Central Park just days earlier and THIS GAY BAIT MOTHERFUCKER had the nerve to turn up his nose at five dollars? Five free dollars?! If I had been dining alone I would have told him, Thank ye very little and fuck you very much, and not left a goddamn thing. Imagine! "Unlimited" mimosas means five...six, seven, eight...nine...twenty. And it's not as if we were boorish diners snapping our fingers at the aspiring actor or griping about this or that.

That's NYC for you where free money is even insulting. They expect gratitude for doing their jobs. Assholes, rich pigs, wannabes, and queers...and most times it is hard to tell the difference betwixt the four; but they're all ungrateful, pretentious, barely English speaking, me-centric, individuals. Nigga please.

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I went to wrestling practice today

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I went to wrestling practice today. Was looking forward to it all morning long. Totally forgot that Wimbledon was going on (I love cheering for Serena Wms, who, I might add, is the Wimbledon Champion for the fourth time. Booyah!) but that's all right. I wasn't as out of wind as I thought I would be and it turned out to be a decent roll-around and sweat.

Towards the end of practice we could hear the horns and fireworks and those damn bleeting plastic noisemakers that are causing a stir at World Cup all going off outside. That was the "cheering" of another German goal. Either that or, as one joked, a Turkish wedding was afoot. Ho!

This time last week I was in NYC watching Team USA playing soccer and today I'm in Berlin wrestling; Germany trounced Argentina 4-0 (Damn!) and Serena won Wimbledon!

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RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

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NEW RULE:

There is no call to tip in Germany or many other European countries, especially not to the extravagant degree expected by American service workers. Leaving the spare change is no big deal either way but giving away additional money is viewed as offensive (unsolicited charity) and, yeah, arrogantly tacky.

Some peoples just don't like free money. I don't want your pity but free money is always welcomed.

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RULES OF TRAVEL

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NEW RULE:

Have visible a copy of Black Muslim literature or a magazine cover featuring the Williams sisters in order to best maintain an empty seat next to you. If the seat isn't already booked, then chances are no white (American)person will care to sit next to you. And certainly no white woman. 

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Greetings from Germany !!

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This time two weeks past I was in a little funk of depression at having been denied travelling rights due to spiteful Canadian border patrol racist because I ought to have flown to Germany that day. Now, two weeks later, I am in Germany. So fuck you Quebec!

If more black men ventured the hell out of America they would see that they can be perceived as men, primarily, and black men, secondly

My passage two days ago was, as far as border patrol goes, uneventful. No twenty questions, no biased questions, no long wait while everyone else (non-dark skin like me) processed smoothly. Neither the English nor the German officials singled me out or made me feel belittled in any fashion. Honestly, I felt SOMETHING must be askew if things were progressing this flawlessly! But, no, that was just part of the conditioning of North American and Latin countries: that I must be strange because I am black. If more black men ventured the hell out of America (and overly regulatory Canada) they would see that they can be perceived as men, primarily, and black men, secondly. If only occurring in instances this "atypical" reaction is rewarding. Color-blind treatment from people outside of your color can be startling or, at the very least, it is noticeable.

I don't yet speak good German but I would rather try to live here than be bound in a country where my good English only fingers me as a trouble-maker who must be up to no good.

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