Black History Month
Ever since Vicki married the jet and the man who came with it, I rarely see her. So, when I get a call from her telling me to be at the little airport where all the private jets land, I show up. I never know what I am in for.
I love the little private airport. It's much better than the busiest airport in the world on the other side of town. I got their before Vicki landed and had time for a few drinks. After that, I needed a cigarette. I asked the woman at the desk if I could leave my suitcase with her while I stepped out to smoke. She agreed. As I was smoking, I realized that I had just left my luggage unattended with a stranger. I am pretty sure that the FAA would not approve.
When I finally boarded, I asked Vicki where we were going. I always hope that we will end up in Turks and Caicos. My suitcase was packed with dental floss and thongs (technically, I know that I could use one for both purposes), but usually, we end up someplace far less exciting. Still, I am always hopeful. This time, we landed in Aiken, South Carolina.
I demanded that our driver stop at a little stand on the side of the road so that I could have deep fried peanuts. I believe that I have now had peanuts in every form available. I would like my tombstone to read something along the lines of: "Here lies Mist 1; she enjoyed nuts and shoes," or "Never met a nut she didn't like," or "Sometimes, she felt like a hot nut." I haven't decided yet. I still have some time to consider it. The deep fried peanuts were crispy and salty and blistering hot. I am still shedding the skin from the roof of my mouth. Although, I have a fear of frying, I will eat almost anything fried. I have eaten fried pickles, a fried candy bar, and once, I think I ate a fried phone book on a stick at a county fair.
We stayed in a lovely Southern (read: antebellum) inn. The only other people with any melanin there were slaves. I looked around nervously and hoped that the staff would think that I just had a really, really good streak-free tan. I wondered if they were aware that slavery ended a long time ago.
We enjoyed cocktails around the fireplace in the lounge. I smiled apologetically when the other guests in the lounge asked the bartender to tap dance. He was a really good tap dancer. I even told him so. I said, "Boy, you are a really good tap dancer." Then, I had to stumble over my words and tell him that I wasn't calling him Boy, but rather I meant...well, never mind. He understood and even brought me a cocktail on the house. I think he called it a spit and tonic. It was pretty good. Frothy, but good.
In the morning, as my servant cinched my corset, I considered telling her about a little thing called the Emancipation Proclamation. I decided to keep my comments to myself because, 1.) I am growing up, and 2.) I needed help with the corset.