attendant related this to the young girl, who was not budging. “No! She is kicking. She’s lying!” From there it just got worse. The at- tendant offered to move the young girl to a new seat, and she refused. “Why should I move? I was here first.” This was getting
ridiculous.The girl kept getting louder, and fi- nally she yells out, “Somebody do something about this (n-word) bitch!” You could feel every passenger within earshot tense. At this point, the air marshall who had been seated up front incognito came back and told the girl to calm down. He showed her his ID, and said, “You are moving. Now. If I were you I wouldn’t say another word, unless you want to be detained in Atlanta.” Finally, she moved and said not another word. All of us were re- lieved, and one African American man to my left said, “Thank God, she was about to start a race war on an airplane.” Not good. By the time we touched down in At-
lanta, things were back to normal. By now it was around 8:30 am and I was seriously hun- gry. After the failed bagel experiment, a tiny pack of airplane pretzels just wasn’t cutting the mustard. The first place I saw was Famiglia, a pizza sort of joint. Should I have something from there or go in search of a Mickey D’s or Starbucks? I looked at the menu and saw that they offered a stromboli stuffed with sausage, egg, mushrooms and spinach. Sounded good. That and another cup of coffee, this one from Starbucks - the good stuff- and I was set to wait for two hours to catch my connecting flight. I really enjoyed the stromboli, stretching my consumption of said Italian foodage over the next hour as I read the third volume of the Miss Peregrine’s School for Peculiar Children. (I highly rec- ommend all three books. If you thought the kids inHarry Potter were unusual, boy are you in for a surprise!) The 30-minute flight back home to the
Greenville Spartanburg airport was a breeze, and before you could say “Gettysburg,” I had my van in the wind, heading down I-85 for
the 45-minute drive home, with lots of great memories, music and history (but no visions of sugar plums) dancing in my head. It had been a blast. I wanna give a big shout out to my buddy Craig Stevens for the great week- end. Next trip? Who knows, but I am sure we will do one, and I am sure it will be as much fun as the previous DC trip and our jaunt to Memphis last year. •
Michael Buffalo visits the Memoorial to the great General Robert E. Lee.
(Photo by Craig Stevens).
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