Who won?
Not us. No way. No how. No Goddamned chance.
The terrorists won, folks. You know why?
They stole our civil liberties. They stole our freedom. The love of travel via our own friggin’ airways.
They made us hate each other. They really friggin’ won. You’re from Pakistan?
Holy shit. Call security.
Flight attendants? They do not like us. We get no food, we get no drink, we get no courtesy.
We get hostility my friends. We get: “What the Hell do YOU want, passenger?” “Don’t bring your water on MY plane!” “Don’t soften your hands with lotion aboard MY 747.”
Bathroom? Screw you! The fasten seatbelt sign is on you stupid American!
America is drowning…drowning quickly, drowning without a glimpse from W. Not a care at all…
It just ‘aint no fun to fly. Vacations are an impediment to the terrorists, just as they deemed necessary.
No, no, beeotches, you cannot fly free. You must fly the unfriendly skies. The ones where you are more of a threat than a guest.
Fuck you, Osama. You won already. Give us back our fun. Our travels. Our freedom. But you wont, will you?
You laugh, we cry. W uses our bullets to feign victory offshore. It’s on our homeland that we weaken.
I do not want to travel. I want to scream.
I don’t want to travel. I want to smash your face in for stealing from us. I cannot tell our children how wonderful it is to see America. I can’t.
I’m too scared a flight attendant might ask them why.
Why do you want to see America, when it inconveniences us so?
You won. Hear that George?
They won.
Assclown.

My friend tells me that she’ll not have a happy ending. I think about this now as I type.
A happy ending…
What exactly is a happy ending? Is it where the girl gets the boy? Or the girl gets the girl? Or when the sick child lives on despite some strange disease? Or perhaps it’s when an entire planet is saved from those odd little alien beings…
What is a happy ending?
I think it starts with a happy beginning. A life planned, maybe. Mapped out by the alignment of stars.
You are here.
No really. You ARE here.
My friend comes from two people who love each other. They had a few kids. One was a girl.
The girl grew out as she grew up. Didn’t exactly trod the road to normalcy. But it’s ok. She didn’t screw anyone over along the way. She kept the morals close. Kept them sacred.
But it’s the father who has always frowned upon her. It’s the father’s view that she takes internally. Holds close, even. Isn’t it a travesty how we people, we human beings, internalize the frownings of those who claim to love us?
She’s a good girl. A kind girl.
I know this because I know her. I’ve been on her receiving end. A couple decades as witness. And she took my shit upon her like she was doomed to be dealt it. Like the “frowning-on” of her father she always thought she deserved…And thinks it to this day.
But I’m not him. And she is not any image that he conjours up in his mind. She’s substance and fiber. Life and love. Goodness and kindness.
And if there is any ending at all, it’s a happy one. Because she stole the meaningful virtues and dumped the rest. The closed minded bullshit that pervades, she left. Left it all, left it far…
Hear this, Mr. B****. Your kid is ok.
Hear it now, hear it loud. You must hear us shouting.
I know you do, and it’s okay to admit it.
She needs a happy ending, sir.
I will stand firm when I tell her she has one, yet it is you…
…you who seems to hold that damn key…let it go, we can catch.