Thanksgiving Travel

Seriously, I may cry.

I'm attempting to book flights for My Husband and I to visit my family this Thanksgiving (his family gets Christmas this year).  Of course he doesn't get the Wednesday before Thanksgiving off, so I'm trying to book after 5pm since the closest airport is 2 hours away and return at some point on Sunday the 27th.  Can I do this for under $1000?  I think not.  I may not be able to do this at all.

It's just so unfair.  What gives the airlines the right to jack up their prices not only on holidays, but on the 10 days surrounding those holidays?!  It's bad enough I'm 1500 miles from my family, most of whom I haven't seen since Christmas, but in order to visit them for a measly 4 days I have to take out a freaking bank loan to pay for it.

If I drive, I have to do it on my own since My Husband doesn't have enough time off to make the two-day trek.  And of course every girl wants to be alone on a dark road in the middle of nowhere 5 months pregnant with her first child.

Sidenote: it's military policy that one cannot use one's vacation time in addition to authorized block leave.  So if My Husband were to request Wednesday off as one of his built up vacation days, he'd be required to take the rest of the holiday weekend from his time as well.  So we have the "choice" of using 0 vacation days or 5.

And even my "in" with Southwest is getting me nowhere...my free flight, courtesy of the amount of money I spend on my Southwest Visa Rewards Card, isn't valid for travel during the week of Thanksgiving.  I had to use it on our Christmas flights (which I booked and still cost us $600 with my airtime being free).

THIS IS SO FUCKING STUPID. 

I hate this.  I hate it.  Why does air travel have to cost me a month and a half's rent?  Because the airlines made some shitty deal with the oil companies when oil was $200 a barrel and now that it's way down they're still paying?  Don't even get me started on the oil companies. 

Of course I could forgo Southwest and pay the $100 round-trip bag fee on any other airline.  I could ship our luggage to my parent's house, but the Postal Service may fold before it got there.

So here's my $1500...for a flight with at least one stop in the middle, getting felt up by security, a plane that won't leave or arrive on time and is more than likely overbooked, with a pilot who's on Facebook while flying, no food or drinks for free and a two-hour trek home after we land. Sign me the fuck up.

I'm so very unhappy with this situation.  If I wasn't so stuck on spending THE ENTIRE CHRISTMAS holiday with my family next year instead of splitting it in half like last year and freaking having second Christmas at my mother-in-law's I'd call the whole thing off and just have Thanksgiving here.

But I haven't seen my family since I found out I was pregnant and I miss them something awful.

Love costs.  Frankly, with the amount love has cost me in the past and undoubtedly will cost me in the future, I can't believe I have anything more to give.

Good Old Fashioned Family Racism

Courtesy of the UN Alliance of Civilizations

Racism (making a generalization, often a negative one, about a single person or group of people based on the color of their skin) is a present-day Greek monster.  It's like some kind of mysterious beast living in a rock crevice or the center of a whirlpool, snapping up human beings as they pass.  A many-headed beast who grows two more snapping, toothy skulls for every one an intrepid hero lops off.

My father is racist.  I've long since come to terms with it, even if I abhor his opinions.  His father was a firefighter on the Southside of Chicago during the 1960s.  For any of you who are familiar with Chicago's Southside in the 1960s, you understand why my father has some less than stellar opinions about African Americans.  The Civil Rights movement (as does all social unrest, ie the current london riots) bred a number of incidents of opportunistic violence.  Firefighters and police officers were on the front lines of these battles and suffered the consequences.  I understand why my father, growing up in a time when his father's life was more in danger than usual, would seek out a scapegoat.

Now, please understand me: I DO NOT APPROVE OF RACISM.  What I'm saying is one makes allowances for the people they love, despite their flaws, and I fully intend to raise my children to acknowledge their grandfather's opinions are wrong but to love him all the same.

As for me; I grew up in a rough sort of neighborhood where calling someone "white" was one of the most potent insults people could toss at one another.  Caucasians were a minority and bore the brunt of societal racism. There were certain bathrooms we couldn't use under threat of violence, certain areas of the school bus we had to avoid. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's true. There were boys who wouldn't date me because of my color, people who suggested I dye my blonde hair brown to better pass for an exotic kind of white, like Sicilian or Portuguese.

I remember the pain, the tears. I remember the absolute idiocracy of judging someone based on the level of melanin in their skin cells. Some people chose hate under those circumstances ("If they don't like me, I don't like them."); I chose empathy. I don't ever want to make someone feel the way I felt.

This is the point where my personal judgements come through.  I cannot justify racism among my generation and the other children of the Baby Boomers.  I think of us as more educated, more tolerant and more exposed to other cultures than our parents and grandparents.

Frankly, I think we should know better.

My Husband's brother Dorian (age 29) is a racist; specifically about African-Americans and Hispanics.  He regularly make comments about hygeine, lifestyle and language with these two peoples as his favorite target.  Granted, he enjoys attention and a good portion of this may be to get a rise out of others.  Most of it, I think, is genuine and springs from an insecurity and defensiveness his mother seemed to impart through her breast milk.  My mother-in-law has the same feelings about African-Americans and Hispanics (and the French, for some reason.  She hates the French).

I've taken to ignoring his remarks.  This is not the best avenue, I'm sure, but it's the best for my sanity.  Dorian is exceptionally antagonistic and illogical; arguing with him about this will just result in his anger and hostility.  In past disagreements he's called me "a princess" and "arrogantly superior" when our philosophies don't match.  The only way I can deal is to pretend I didn't hear anything.  I don't respond, I don't laugh nervously, I don't sniff at his intolerance.  I just disregard his words.

I can't end this post without a short point on Muslims.  Ever since September 11, 2001, people of Middle Eastern descent (whether they practice Islam or not) have the dubious "honor" of being the new prejudicial punching bags; especially in military communities (you may remember a past post where I published a short story about the subject).

CALLING ALL MUSLIMS TERRORISTS IS EQUIVALENT TO CALL ALL CHRISTIANS MEMBERS OF THE KU KLUX KLAN.  Think about that the next time you send out one of those disgusting chain emails about "towel-heads."

Racism is the easy way out.  Educate yourselves, dammit.  Take responsibility for your own lives and stop blaming others for society's ills.  If God wanted us all identical, He would have made it so.

In-Law Visit

My Husband and I just got home from a few days visiting his family in Chicago, Illinois.  His sister India and her husband Stuart live there with their daughter Lena (she just turned 2 years old).  So My Husband's parents and his oldest brother Holden drove in from Pennsylvania to meet us there.

It was...an experience, as all these visits tend to be.  Luckily for me I seem to be developing a sort of desensitization to their various antics.  My Husband's family has no boundaries (no topic is taboo, no closed door means privacy) and they are all, in general, very nice but angry people who would benefit immensely from therapy.

My Husband's mother is a tough woman who grew up in the Philadelphia projects with her single mother and two siblings.  Her father's abandonment left her with some serious scars that her marriage made worse.

My mother-in-law met and got pregnant by My Husband's father when she just barely 20.  My father-in-laws family, very traditional and more on the moneyed side, didn't approve of the match at all.  But all parties were Catholic and marriage was the only option.

My father-in-law is an alcoholic.  He's good-natured but incredibly selfish and was unfaithful to my mother-in-law during spats in their marriage (something I've never told anyone).  She became very insular and focused on her five children, glossing over their mistakes and trumpeting their successes.

Holden is angry and an alcoholic like his father.  He's handsome and charming but incredibly disappointed that his life did not turn out how he planned it (marriage and children) and is consistently jealous of My Husband and insecure about his place in the universe.

India has a judgemental streak a mile wide; which is slightly ridiculous since her family hated Stuart and are still disappointed their relationship is successful.  She was convinced I was not good enough for My Husband and, quite frankly, never let me forget it for their first three years we were dating.  Marriage and motherhood has mellowed her out, but she's still desperate for reinforcement that she's raising her child properly.

Middle brother Dorian and youngest Charles were not there, so I'll save their paragraphs for another time.

Anyway, the only real hitches in the weekend were the fact that India is pregnant again...a sore spot for me, since we're trying and have been so far unsuccessful.  My visit to my grandmother's grave (my father was raised in Chicago) was spoiled by everyone's insistence on accompanying me...nothing like trying to have a moment with your dead grandma while hosting some kind of macabre field trip.

Holden spent a good part of the next day pissed at me...India and Stuart invited their aunt & uncle (my father-in-law's brother) who live just outside the city, to dinner.  India and her parents took Lena to gymnastics and the boys were out drinking, leaving me alone in the house to prepare for guests.  The boys (Holden, Stuart and My Husband) were TWO HOURS late, leaving me alone with the aunt & uncle for about an hour in a house that wasn't mine and was devoid of most supplies necessary for entertaining. 

I called My Husband to see were they were and let him know I was put out about the situation...I guess he was upset enough to try and rush the guys home.  Apparently Holden didn't appreciate my "demands," that their time together was cut short as well as the fact that I only set out two plates of hors d'oeurves.  I overheard him complain to his mother that he and Stuart "set out everything" when they got home.

Oh, did I mention that Stuart had the list of antipasti India wanted out and where she wanted it?  Damn, I've gotta get my mind-reading abilities in check.

He's just a pissy man and I pretty much hate him right now.  In the past, similar feelings of disapproval about my behavior would have sent me into tears...I hate disappointing people...but I think I may be getting a little more used to their outrageous expectations and can deal with them more effectively.  I'm trying to focus on the fact that no matter what I do, someone is going to be mad at me...had I set up the table perfectly Holden would have complained to his mother that I'm full of myself and think I can throw a better party than them.

But just the idea that every single family visit is going to have some kind of instance like this makes me...exhausted.