Greetings from Stockholm, Sweden. Finally.
Yep, I’m in Stockholm! Marta and I arrived last night after an arduous 22 or so hours traveling with several bumps along the way including a severely delayed flight to Frankfurt, a missed flight connection, being the “random” check in San Francisco, being hassled at immigration in Germany (despite the fact that I am a citizen of the European Union), and best of all an encounter with a Real Housewives b****(which is relevant to the title of this post)
So of course the brain child which is becoming this post came late last night as I tossed in turned in minor fury over the events from this air travel experience pertaining to mistreatment, and the mistreatment I went through on a couple of occasions yesterday. However, I won’t bore you with the usual airport hassles I face for being a brown person with multiple Saudi and Indian visas in their passport; but I do have a bloody delightful story about an encounter I had with a self-absorbed “probably on the Real Housewives of Orange County” plastic.
Marta and I were at the gate in Frankfurt for our re-booked flight to Stockholm (since our earlier flight had been delayed and we had missed our original connection). We were the only people standing at the counter waiting in line to get our new boarding passes printed when this Victoria Beckham wannabe strutted over in her UGLY four inch wooden heels, red baseball cap, tacky ass oversize sunglasses, her Spanish-speaking maid, cart full of Louis Vuitton, and unfortunately plastic-in-the-making young daughter. Of course VBW (as I will refer to her from now on), completely ignored the fact that we were standing there to walk right in front of us to the counter, mobile phone in hand chatting away. Despite being terribly exhausted and jet-lagged, there was no way I was going to let this wench cut us in line just because she obviously thinks she’s some sort of a Footballer Wife…seriously human decency, I honestly don’t care even if you are some famous reality star, cutting in line is plain rude.
Me: Excuse me
**Her ignoring me as her maid and daughter just blankly look at me**
Me: Excuse me (a little more audibly)
She ignores me again, so I walk up and go stand at the counter next to her as the Lufthansa desk lady and man load up their computers. As soon as she hangs up, she mutters in her dry LA accent, “Baddd attitude.”
Me: There’s a line and as I’m sure you saw were standing here first
VBW: Haha, yeah and I’m sure you’re flying first class! (in the most condescending tone you can imagine)
Me: Flying first class isn’t mutually correlated to having class
VBW: And I say, like, WHATEVER
***No seriously. That’s what she had to say. “Whatever.” For the record the kind Lufthansa guy helped us first.
Several little things about this encounter:
1) The idea that this woman thinks she has the right to march up and cut anyone in line all because she has a first class ticket and is strutting around the terminal looking like a preposterous fashion victim straight out of Real Housewives of Orange County; that is absolutely NOT okay, and to have not said anything would have meant letting her get away with it and further bloating her sense of entitlement.There was a time where I would not have spoken up, but really I have far too much dignity NOT to, and if anyone ever does this to you I would be quite angry with you if you were to not speak up as well
2) She was assuming I was not in first class, which was a deduction which could only be made on the basis of my appearance. Yeah sorry but when I travel I don’t like to parade around covered in designer labels like a walking Neiman Marcus because a) that’s tacky, b) I don’t want to attract attention, and c) I’m not an insecure nouveau riche. And regardless, that is about the LAMEST passive aggressive comment one can make and shows that this woman’s identity and esteem comes from the fact that her husband is willing to pay 500 Euros for “First Class” for a 90 minute flight (worth noting: Lufthansa within Europe first class are the same size as the Economy seats and the only difference is that they give you warmed up bread and you get off the plane first)
3) If you’re flying First Class, why aren’t you sitting in the First Class Lounge and utilising the service desk there to be amongst us regular citizens of the world? Or do you not know that there is a Lufthansa Senator lounge down by gate A27?
Anyways, I’m more amused than aggravated this morning now that I have slept off the jet lag, I honestly didn’t think people like this actually existed. Ridiculous.
Moral of the story: Don’t EVER let someone think they are better than you. EVER.
On a more positive note, we arrived to Stockholm at the same time as my dear uncle arrived on a flight back from a business trip in Finland; we split a cab, headed into the city and somehow had enough energy to go out for dinner with my uncle and his AMAZINGLY lovely wife (a whole other post needs to be devoted to her)
We headed to Kim Chi, a Korean restaurant here in Vasastan, my uncle’s wife is Korean and knew exactly what we should order (and what not to since she can cook it for us); alors:
Chicken bibimbap: Spiced chicken, assorted vegetables, rice, and a fried egg all mixed together. You basically add this red sauce to it and mix the ingredients; balanced, delicious, and multifaceted in flavour
And…apres le diner, we crashed for the night!
Alright, well I’ve got to go- we’re off to meet AMALIA for lunch here in Stockholm!
Have you ever dealt with a stuck-up person?
What would you do if someone blatantly cut you in line?
Ever had Korean food? What’s your favourite?