12 egg

POOR correspondent - Posted on 16 April 2010

Under Uf
By Bruce Allison and Lola Bean

It all started Wednesday evening when I went to be early for my usual trip outside of the city and looney politicians. By now you’re getting used to my warped and kinky sense of humor and you know there is no truth to the idea that I live in city hall 24\7. Only 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. I’ve gotta do what every traveler does. Get up at 5 o’clock and go to the airport. So I go to bed and get a good sleep.

Thursday I woke up at 4 o’clock, took a shower, no breakfast, walked 5 blocks to BART, got on the airport bart train, and got to the airport by six. My plane isn’t going out for another 2 hours. As I walked up to the desk to confirm my flight and seat number on Virgin American, I walked through the gate, showed my ID – I had to take off my belt, hold my pants up with one hand and put one arm up at a time for them to check me so my pants don’t fall down. You know we’re all going to take down the airplane with our belts. The idea of me taking off my shoes is the worst terrorist offense if you ever smelled my feet. I put my belt and shoes on the conveyor belt. They x-rayed them for bombs. They also x-rayed me.

They put me in this tube. It’s supposed to be for bombs, but it looks like it would transport you to seattle. The guard told me to put my hands up. I told him if I did my pants would fall down and that be the worst act of terrorism you would ever see. Seeing me in my birthday suit is not the happiest program. When I came out, they felt me up to see if I had any weapons on me. Then I spend time putting my belt and shoes on.

When I got to gate 5A, I was the only one there so I picked up the phone and called my friend in Seattle, Ms. Bean. I woke her up. She wondered what looney was calling so early, but was happy when she knew it was the looney that was coming to visit. I told her I was on my way. 4 hours later I was in Seattle. 2 hours in the airport, 2 hours on the plane.

The next day, I met some more good people and we went out to play tourist in Seattle. As usual, my radicalism came out. We went to a restauraunt that was noted for 12 egg omelette, Beth’s Cafe. I’m like anybody else, give me a good omelette and I’ll eat it. This was the same omelette where the clown on man vs. food couldn’t finish. It only took me 20 minutes to eat a 12 egg omelette stuffed with chili, cheese, sour cream and guacamole on top of a pound of hashbrowns and under 2 slices of toast.

This is an upside down trip for me cuz I’m poor and this is a holiday for me. I’m not nutty enough to do a busman’s holiday and go to Washington and sit at government meetings, like a busdriver driving a bus on his vacation. So I do what I consider fantasy. 12 eggs. And then I eat it. On my fixed income, if I didn’t save for it, I wouldn’t be able to do it. This is my idea of a wonderful fantasy vacation. I also visited the Space Needle. Took a ferry around the Puget Sound, visited the zoo and went to a few more places, drank a few beers, and wore a lampshade on my head.

To some of you readers this may seem like a mundane vacation. But being poor with a fixed income of $890 where over 2\3 goes to rent, this is a fantasy. Of all poor people to act like a normal person without being judged. This is why I pick a city I am not known in. In Seattle, I am not known. I can act like Bruce Allison. As I sit here with my partner, we are typing it out watching the TV at her house. Thenk you very much Bruce Reed Allison.

- A letter from a radical.


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