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The Story of the Puss Roll

Today I’ll be returning to my Yaad (Jamaica). I love being in airports but this wasn’t always the case. I felt it was only fitting that I shared the traumatic story of my first time being at the airport. I wrote the story a year ago for my public speaking class. Enjoy!


Crisp white socks; folded neatly at the ankles. Shiny black shoes. A denim dress that flared at the waist with a rounded lapel. My mother completed the look by putting my hair in four evenly parted braids. There wasn’t a crease in sight or a hair out of place. I was ready. I was 1½ years and I was ready for my first trip by airplane.

While my mother and father juggled two suitcases and my diaper bag, my lone responsibility was to guard my stuffed kitten. This was no ordinary kitten. Pink fur, a white under belly and a long white string, courtesy of my grandmother, for a leash. After a 30 minute journey, we arrived at the airport. Mommy kissed daddy goodbye. He then kissed me on both cheeks and gently clunked our foreheads together so I wouldn’t feel left out. It was just mommy, me and my kitty now.

Despite what my mother would say, I was a well behaved baby. I walked beside her in silence taking in the hustle and bustle of the airport. This was probably my first introduction to the concept of “waiting in line”. That’s the thing with airports; lots of opportunities to wait in line. We had to queue to check in our luggage, then we had to queue for the security check.

We waited and waited until it was finally our turn. Mommy lifted her carry on and my diaper bag onto the conveyer belt. While mommy balanced monitoring her bags and conversing with security, some woman snatched my kitty. My jaw dropped as I tried to process what happened. I looked to my mother, waiting for her to defend me but she was busy with the bags. I had to take matters into my own hands.

In one swift motion, I dropped to the ground with a splat. I simultaneously kicked my feet, exposing Huggies underneath so they knew I meant business. I kicked and rolled to the right and I kicked and rolled to the left. They still hadn’t returned my kitty. I added a new move to my tantrum combo. I hollered. I had a pair of lungs and I knew how to use them. The entire airport waited with baited breath for my stuffed animal to be returned.

The conveyer belt had swallowed my kitten and was taking its own sweet time with the digestion process. I was kicking and rolling and screaming at the top of my lungs. My mother was frozen in shock and appreciative of the sympathetic looks she was receiving. The poor attendants ran from my mother to myself then the conveyer belt, unsure of what to do next.

The scanner finally spat out my kitty and the security personnel passed it around like a game of hot potato to get it back to me as quickly as possible. The same woman who had taken my toy returned it and apologized profusely. I stopped my tantrum mid-roll, got up and took it from her. Wearing one shoe, I hopped passed my mother. She scrambled to retrieve my other shoe and any other article of clothing I might have dislodged in my fit.I didn’t know where I was going but I knew it was away from catnappers, stuffed toy eating machines and baffled onlookers. My mother chased behind me and swiftly pulled the back of my dress down to cover my diaper.

Despite what my mother would say, I was a well behaved baby… unless provoked.

#KultureShocked

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Royal Flush

Before I posted this poem, I sent it to a few of my friends and they all thought I was throwing shade at someone. I laughed and told them that was not the case. I’m still not sure they believe me. However I now feel compelled to share with you the honest origin of this poem.

I was scrolling through Instagram and found a user by the name of “Let me fix my crown”. I thought it was a brilliant name and as I was walking to class the first few lines of the poem wrote themselves. I took on the persona of an angry woman tired of degrading pick up lines, played with rhymes and had a little too much fun. This is the end result. Enjoy !


 

Excuse me?
Let me fix my crown real quick.
Mr. Suave, Mr. Slick, Mr. Boombastic.
With Jokers in abundance,
you can take your pick.
Go fetch!
Never mind, you can keep that stick.
‘Cause you must be a dog,
or a frog or a hog,
to be talking to me with that dialogue.
Hold on!
What is the matter with you?
Biting off more than you could possibly chew.
Sweetheart, just how old are you?
Because you must be under the age of two.
Before I get too upset
and say something that I’ll regret
I have an important lesson for you
my pet.
I think it’s time you learned
that respect is earned
because you’re playing with fire
and you will get burned!

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The Post I Never Meant to Publish

Warning! Below is a passage of useless information, feel free to waste 3 minutes of your time though. Did this passage a few months ago and it’s been in my drafts taking up space. Why not post it?

Im at work….. doing nothing but refreshing my inbox just in case I got an email in the little time gone by. I haven’t gotten an email but with each click of the button a minute should have passed but it seems time has frozen since I checked last.
Oh my god an email! Unimportant 😦 just a message from some company that wants my money. But I want my money so if you find my money let it know ive been searching for it high and low.
Interesting fact two men just walked in. No hi no hello. See I grew with my grandmother and if I did that and she knew she’d wack me not one time but two!
Two more emails, im popular today.  Three women just entered said hi and walked away. Now it’s twelve ‘o’ eight now I have 82 minutes left to wait.
I’ve already been to the mailroom twice if the time would fly faster, that would be nice. Now this is getting much longer than I’d hoped but I won’t aplogize; it’s helping me cope.
My tummy has started speaking so now im hungry too. Hunger is much more difficult when you have nothing to do. Just took a sip of water and felt the chill go down. Now I’m staring at the door outside its the colour brown.
Well I think it’s time I put this to an end
Hmmm… maybe I’ll go get the mail again!

#KultureShocked

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What You Need Thursdays.

I was flipping through an old book and I found one of, if not the, first poem I had ever written.  My parents and I got in a fight and I put pencil to paper and dealt with it the best way I could.
The message you all need to get you through the rest of the week is : ” The pen is stronger than the knife”. I first heard this quote in the Damien Marley song “It was Written” (feel free to go look for it on YouTube) and my boss said the original quote/proverb today and I knew I had to write about it.

Parents

There is a war going on in my mind.
A war between
What is wrong
And what is right.
A war between
What I want
And what they want
for me.
And try as I might
I can’t seem to find
A way to emerge from the
Crossfire unharmed.

See I have a sharp tongue
I can build you up
and I can cut you down
But they have something more
-experience.
So I bite the bullet because
I realise I’ve brought
A knife to a gunfight
And try as I might,
I cannot seem to find
A way to emerge from
The crossfire unharmed.

Impossible to emerge unscathed.
And deep down I know they were right all along.
But I can now look back at
the missed shots, back to the
Drawing board, revisit and re-equip
The artillery.
Next time, I’ll have experience.

#KultureShocked