Day Two: Food Show Fiasco.

Yesterday was my second day of part-time employment in the great city of New York. And let me just tell you how fucked up this particular situation was..

I was working at the Javitz Center on the Westside, and this particular day we had three shows happening. The Jewelry Show (for which no one from the convention team is allowed in), the Wine and Spirits Show, and last but not least, The Restaurant Show.

Given the fact I was working all day, I had no time to go into either the food bonanza or the spirits expo until the very end of my shift. Which turns out, was almost about the time all the vendors begin to shut down.

After being given the 'go-ahead' from my supervisor, without hesitation I hustled my ass downstairs to The Restaurant Show hoping to procure some incredible edibles. Needless to say, I didn't get in. And as surprised as I was, it was not because I was Black. It was because I didn’t (and still don’t) have tits.

As I approached the gate most of the crowd was already dispersing. engorged and content with their stomachs distended like poor African children, except people were generally happy. Not I. The security staff for this event were some older white guys with walkie-talkies, looking way too important and way too pleased with themselves. They had done nothing to earn the respect they apparently thought they deserved.

I tried to walk in casually, displaying my ID badge on my chest signifying that clearly I am not some random hooligan trying to sneak by. I showed it to the guard-on-a-stool, but this didnt work. After a lengthy discussion with this top-dick with a radio, I was told that 'No ones allowed in. Only out. Were closing.'

..Fuck that.

I could plainly see people still lingering around various concession stands pillaging whatever free cakes and cookies they could carry with their fat fingers.

After taking perhaps ten steps away from the gatekeepers of gourmet, another woman I worked with upstairs struts her stuff right by me and simply walks in with nothing more than a smile and of course, a heaping portion of grade-A sweater meat. Had she been white I might have conjectured that these particular guards were bigoted assholes. But she was blacker than me and so obviously this shit wasn't the case.

I watched as the guard tried to make eye contact with her and like some Jedi master, she waved her hand at him gracefully and continued to vogue her way inside. I contemplated getting back in this guys' face. But then I realized that it was my second day of work and it was almost over. So I mentally flipped a coin.
Tails. Not worth the aggravation.

After I made my way back upstairs, my co-workers noticed that my hands were indeed foodless.
'What happened?' my supervisor said.
'They wouldn't let me in. Apparently they're closing. But that girl...'
I couldn’t even finish my sentence before I saw her approaching from the other end with two enormous, iced, cream-filled cupcakes; each individually boxed and looking like the equivalent of baked-good gold.

'What the hell is this?! That’s so f'ed up!' I tried to play it off like I was joking and humorously agitated, letting out a big laugh in my attempt to channel my real disdain for this women’s' incredible pussy power into something more socially acceptable to my superiors.
'I try to get in and I'm cake-blocked by some ass in a stool and she gets by no problem!' I shouted.
'Well, you’re not a girl' one guy said.
'It's because you’re not a dark enough black girl' another guy said.

At this point I wanted to strangle somebody, but had they not been a hundred and ten percent correct it would have sounded completely racist. So I immediately suppressed my rage because it was true. And I suppose it didn’t help my case that she was in fact, very beautiful.
I think sensing my blood pressure rising, she offered me a slice of the cupcake. And I emphasize the cake part. It was perhaps the most delicious piece confectionary goodness I had ever tasted. Heaven.

After this, the day ended. At least I didn’t go home completely frustrated and empty-handed.
Emotional salvation in the form of a vanilla frosted cupcake. What a day.