Misinterpreting the Situation

By Comedic Storyteller Onicia Muller

We should have gotten flight insurance. Our taxi inched its way towards the airport. I imagined money flying out of my wallet like our pending flight blasting down the runway.

With 30 minutes on the clock, we made it to the first ticket counter. What’s the point of online check-in if yall still going to make me wait in line?!

Finally, it was our turn to bat. Passport. Tickets. Bags. Just take it all!

“Do you, by chance, know how to sign?” asked the agent at the neighboring counter.

Oh my gosh, I am humbled that the Deaf gawdz would be repeat customers of my ASL interpretation services.

“I know a bit. How can I help?” I said, floating away from the counter to help the ticketing agent and an elderly passenger.

“Hi, you sign ASL?” my hands gestured confidently.

Roberto, the elderly man, didn’t respond in kind. Instead, he made the hoarse raspy sound of a wind blowing through an old rickety house. Did he even speak English? More importantly, did he have a tongue?! Das da real question.

I was afraid to look because he sounded like spooky gases seeping from a steamy manhole found in some Steven King-type thriller.

Yo, you only have to see “It” once to not look directly into any dark holes.

“Sir, you have a ticket, but you don’t have security clearance,” said the agent.

Gurgle. Garble. “I’m Canadian.” Gurgle. Garble.

Canadian need visas to travel? Why was I even getting caught up in this situation? Dis tew much. I don’t know how to sign “visa”. Roberto still hasn’t confirmed whether he understood my primitive ASL.

Fingers were stiffer than frozen butter on cold bread. Don’t you hate when you butter rips a hole in your sliced bread?

Anywhores, the ticketing agent was unable to connect with Roberto’s travel agent via phone. I mean, most businesses have standard hours of operation. Five in the morning usually isn't the time to be bugging anyone about visa issues. *Cries in call centre veteran*

Badda bing. Badda boom. I put my communications degree to werk and determined that grandpa needed an ESTA form, not a visa.

I would go in on the ticketing agent, but it wasn’t even 7 am. Beloved, who among us are even fully awake before 9 am?

“Girl, this man is clearly not deaf. And we have a flight to catch.”

Oh snap! I totally forgot. Outchea busting out rusty hand gestures which may or may not have been gang signs. Ermahgerd, I was gonna miss my flight and this man wasn’t even deaf.
We dashed to our gate so fast we ain’t even do a polite goodbye.

Shout out to all my special needs passengers with y'all fancy golf carts, wheelchairs, early boarding, and priority seating. Te veo y sufro.

Created on St. Maarten. Based in Chicago. Onicia Muller (@OniciaMuller) is an award-winning comedic storyteller. She writes, says funny things, and enjoys hanging with creative minds. “Just Being Funny” is a weekly reflection where Onicia laughs at life. www.OniciaMuller.com/JBF.

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