In My Write Mind

We woke up the next morning to french toast, bacon, sausage, berries and bottomless cups of coffee and glasses of orange juice. All courtesy of the owners of the Three Angels Inn. Like I said before, just solid people.

Sure, they had no idea what the Urban League does … and they didn’t seem particularly interested, but dammit, they made a mean slice of french toast. Hell, at 7:30 in the morning, I wasn’t even sure what the League did. All I knew was there was bacon, and lots of it … so really, wasn’t that all that mattered? LOL

This last day in Lawrenceville would be one I’d never forget. You’re about to see why.

Back on campus, a full day awaited us. There was a morning meeting of the executives, where the day was mapped out for them, i.e., which classes they would be attending, what time they should be where, etc. As I mentioned yesterday, one of the “visiting professors” was actually a professor of Black Studies from the University of Nebraska-Omaha.

He’s also a reverend, and as engaging and affable as they come. He approached me at the opening reception with one of the warmest smiles I’ve ever seen, a voice larger than life. Decked out in ethnic accourturements — complete with Kenti cloth draped around his neck and a kufi firmly planted atop his head. He was like the grandfather I never knew. Just that friendly. Just that fiery. He was becoming one of my favorite people ever in that short amount of time.

The classes where he presented weren’t that populated. He didn’t mind. Talking to one or two students was good for him, as he was arming them with what they needed to stay true to themselves. Years of activism and a stint as a black studies professor force you to keep it real with whomever you meet. And that was his message. Don’t let anyone define you. Define yourself and remain true to that definition.

He gave them his all. Did I mention that he’d had a major heart attack only 5 years ago? And that this was the first time he’s flown since then? Yup. I was so glad to have him there. And the students were, too.

Fast forward to the luncheon. Ms. Jolley and her students put together a fashion show for the crowd, which included faculty, professors, visiting professors, fellow students and invited guests. The theme was “The Do’s and Don’t’s of Dressing for the Job Interview.” The visiting professors, aka the execs, were giving advice to the students as to what is appropriate attire, gave them tips on what to say and not to say during the interview, advised them to do research on the companies they were interviewing with, etc.

Everything was going swimmingly well. Until … the Reverend asked a question that seemed innocent, yet sparked controversy: “What about ethnic attire? Can that be worn to an interview?

Without skipping a beat, an executive from the U.S. Navy stood up and addressed it, saying that since the interviewees don’t know whether the interviewer has an biases or prejudices, it would be best to dress as conservatively as possible.

The reverend laughed it off, but we would find out later that he was seething underneath. He took offense because he’d spent most of his life telling his students and, well, anyone who would listen not to conform. Not to assimilate. To be true to yourself, no matter where you are.

The other execs in the room had spent most of their careers doing just that, assimilating, “playing the game” as it were, getting their foot in the door before attempting to change policy.

So you see the dilemma, right? Don’tcha?!?!?! Two forces coming from different perspectives, both with great intentions. Both with great life lessons. It was a real life clash of the titans!

A representative from the U.S. Army spoke next, upping the ante on the Rev. He spoke of how important it was for the students to conform at the interview, saying that companies could care less about what interested the potential employee, instead stressing the need for them to be team players. He remarked that wearing a conservative suit is the only way to go, the only way to get a job.

Here’s the problem with that comment coming from him, though. Only five minutes earlier, he retold a story of how he’d once landed a job when he was younger. The story went that he was delivering a package to a company where he was to interview the next day. He was dressed casually, in “crisp jeans” and a collared shirt. Turns out, the person he delivered the package to was his future boss. And yes, he got the job, according to him, because his boss liked the way he was dressed the day prior. In jeans.

So here he is telling the students THAT story, and then turning around and saying that wearing a suit is the way to go. Spell c-o-n-t-r-a-d-i-c-t-i-o-n for me.

And the rebbie reb wasn’t having it. Being a man of cloth, he let it go at the time. However, he was definitely and visibly still upset. It wasn’t until the afternoon sessions ended, when we were all scheduled to meet for a debfriefing, that he voiced his displeasure.

And voice it he did.

He thanked Ms. Jolley for her hospitality, and then immediately ripped into the contradictions as he saw it, saying that he didn’t work so hard over the years just to be disrespected by a non-white person. He was fuming that the other executives were telling the kids that they had to conform in order to succeed, that they had to assimilate in order to get hired. It wasn’t the way he was brought up. Wasn’t the way he was taught. And for that man to get up there and contradict himself — at the same time “talking down” to the reverend — showed him that he didn’t belong there. Not at an institution where they would allow that.

I sat there, not at all stunned. Because I saw both sides. There’s been many a school visit I’ve attended where the students are told to do what was necessary to land the job, then make changes once inside. It was all about playing the game, the execs insisted time and again.

I’ve also been around people who’ve struggled to keep their identity and dignity, been in the trenches, fighting to let people know who they are and being proud of it. So, it was my job to help one side understand the other. To let them know that, while it may not have been their experiences, those experiences are still valid and need to be heard.

That fueled a great conversation, with all participants weighing in. Expressing themselves. What I thought was great was that the students were there, too. Soaking this all in. Seeing the different sides. And hopefully finding a balance between the two.

That’s why the program is so important. Because it helps the students see what others before them have gone through on their path to success. And it gives them the necessary tools to make things easier. Gives them a leg up. Makes the playing field a bit more level.

All of that great interaction had me caught up. It was creeping up on 5pm and my flight was at 7:50. Back in Raleigh. Which means that, even if I was “about an hour” away, I still had to return the car and get to the airport by 7.

Yeah, it didn’t quite happen that way. Sigh. Below is a running diary of my return trip to Raleigh.

5:00pm — Waved goodbye to the Thanks for Visiting Lawrenceville, VA sign. Wait, what’s that in the small print? “And a middle finger to all the idiots with T-Mobile service. This is Verizon territory, bitches.” I should’ve seen that coming. Nice.

5:15 — Ahh, gotta love the South. Only fifteen minutes on 85, and I’ve heard “I’m In Love With A Stripper” three times. Grrreat. No T-Mobile, but I can hear T-Pain all day long.

5:22 — My first of many cow sightings along the way. Which reminded me, I didn’t eat lunch. I’m kinda hungry. Mmmmm … beef.

5:23 — “So Sick” is on again. Seriously, are these the only two songs out right now?!?!?!

5:28 — Found an adult-contemporary station. Playing some old school Luther, Regina Belle and Anita Baker. Hearing “Just Because” inspires me. I started formulating a column in my head. Stay tuned.

5:59 — Still no signs for North Carolina. Either this is much longer than “about an hour” or I’m driving backwards. Sigh.

6:02 – Holy crap! They’re playing “Feels Good” By Tony Toni Tone! So what there are no signs that I’m ever gonna be able to leave Virginia. I rockin’ with the fellas and Mo’cedes the Mello. LOL

6:10 — Finally, I get my service back. And of course I have 8 messages, 14 emails and 4 text messages. Oh, joy.

6:18 — I’ve reached NORTH CAROLINA!!!! Woo hooo!

6:22 — I can’t take it any longer. I was trying to hold out until I got the airport, but my stomach is growling and I need to eat. Somewhere quick. Somewhere fast. What to do? Ahhh, yes. There’s a Wendy’s. Nope, the drive-thru line isn’t long enough. Wait, what about Taco Bell? Nah, no one’s on that line. I might get my food too quickly. Hold up! There’s a McDonald’s. And the line is around the corner. That’s it, Dawson. Pull right in. Gridlock! Voila! (Moral of this timestamp: I’m an idiot.)

6:37 — Back on the highway. Seriously, it took that long. Checking my watch, seeing that it’s 6 friggin 37, and realizing that I just might be stuck in Carolina another night. I start feeling sick. Oh wait, that might just be from the cheeseburger I just swallowed whole. Never mind.

6:41 — Signs for Raleigh. Suddenly, I’m in Go-Go-Gadget mode. I clench the steering wheel just a little bit tighter and say, “I can do this!”* (*See Idiot, I’m an)

6:56 — I’m in the home stretch. I see signs for the airport. New York, I’m coming to you, baby!!!

7:02 — More signs for the airport. Jeez, can I see an airplane, a tower, something?!?!? I swear I haven’t seen this many signs since Marlee Matlin performed the national anthem at the Special Olympics in ‘94. (OK, I’m goin to hell for that one. hehehe)

7:06 — Finally, I’ve reached the airport. Now to return the rental. I look down at the gas gauge. Dammit! Half a tank. I have to refill. Gas station … gas station … hmmmm. None.

[Aside # 4 — I know, I know. It’s a ploy by the rental companies to get you to return them the way they are because you have no time. But still … why are there NEVER ANY GAS STATIONS NEAR THE RENTAL PLACES AT AIRPORTS?!?!?!? Is it really that serious for rental companies to block the stations out so they can make more money off of customers who forget to refuel and don’t have time because they’d miss their flights by the time they remember?!?!?!? I will be in DC at the end of the month, and you best believe I’m gonna ask some legislators to look into this. It’s a crime, I say!!! Whew. That felt good.]

So, I did what any self-respecting person who was about to miss his flight would do. I circled out of the rental alcove … and went looking for a gas station. I refused to let them charge me double for some gas just because they thought they had me held hostage. Nope. Not me.

7:14 – Gas station! There you are. OK, no lines. Good.

7:16 — $26. For half a tank. Guess who will NEVER own a caravan. Yeah.

7:20 — Back to the rental place. The young lady takes her time inspecting the car. I see the shuttle guy and beg him to wait for me. I pay. All she has to do is print out the receipt.

7:22 — Waiting for the receipt.

7:25 — Stilllll waiting. Girl: “It NEVER takes this long. I don’t know what’s wrong with the printer.” Me: *blank stare*

7:26 — Finally. I run to the shuttle. The guy asks which airline, I tell him, and he says he’ll get me there as fast as possible.

7:27 — We’re in the airport. Jerking around corners. Making great time. To.pick.up.other.passengers. I was like, Dude, you said you were gonna get me there quickly. Him: “Sorry, man. I meant after I picked up these two.” Me: *blank stare # 2*

7:30 — I’m inside the terminal. Run to the self-check machine. It laughs at me and spits out a slip telling me to go to the counter. Thankfully, no line. The lady hands me another slip, says this will get me through security, but no guarantees on the flight. I start dreaming of warm cookies and free computers, knowing my fate is sealed. Sigh.

7:34 — I get to the security checkpoint with my carry-on. Take off the requisite shoes, coat, phone, hearing aid, class ring, mood bracelet, watch, gun and boxers. I’m ready to go through.

7:35 — The machine goes off. Forgot the belt. Go back, take that off, then I go through again. I say to the dude, it was my belt. Him: “You barely made it through that time.” Me: *whatthefuck look #1* Seriously, what did that even mean?!?!?!? How do you barely make it through a metal detector?!?!?!

7:37 — A sister takes my bag, says she has to go through it. I just look at her, then say that my flight is leaving in less than 15 minutes. She says OK, then let’s do this fast. LOL All I can do is laugh as I begin to press the Courtyard on speed dial.

7:40 — She’s finally done. Apparently, some Q-tips triggered the alarm. She was satisfied, and began to close the bag. I’m gearing up for the handoff like I was Michael Johnson running the last leg of the 4X100. All I needed was some gold shoes. Oh wait, that’s right. They probably would’ve set off the alarm, too. Suddenly, she stops. Her: Sir, I don’t want to crush your tie. Do you want to move it before I close the bag? Me: You’re serious? Crush the tie! That’s what steamers are for!!!! I gotta goooooooo!

7:42 — I check the gate signs. C20. I look to see where I am. Of course, I’m at C1. Welcome to my life.

7:43 — I’m running like I just kicked a cougar’s baby. Hadn’t run that hard in dress shoes since my last relationship when I had to run daily from my girlfriend’s cooking. Oy. I get to the gate. Tell the lady I have to catch that flight. She seems amused. Her: I’m gonna need you to breathe for me. Me: This is as heavy as I can breathe. Is this not enough?!?!? Her: You will catch the flight. Good thing, too. It’s the last one out of here tonight. Me: *gulp* She takes my boarding pass. Random security dude with the reflector vest on: “Hey, when you get on, please tell them you’re the last passenger.” Hey, if it means I get to go home, I’ll sing that shit to them. LOL

7:47 — I’m on the plane. Weezing like a punk. Made the flight. And as I sit there, saying over and over again in my mind that I will NEVER go back to Lawrenceville unless it’s the tower ceremony for T-Mobile, I realize a few things: My next school visit will be in a major city; Everyone down south is tooooo laid back for me; Never beleive anyone who tells you that something is “up the street” or “about an hour away”; Balance is very necessary when it comes to teaching students AND when it comes to staying on your feet in a renegade rental van; and most importantly, I will always remember my visit to Saint Paul’s College as the time I got “So Sick,” saw Three Angels and remembered the titans.

Good times.