I like Europe. I’d like to live there someday. But I’m also objective enough to admit that some Europeans wear a layer of superiority when they’re in the U, S, and A. They are EuroTrash.
Case in point: On my return flight from DC last week, a young man in tight black pants, campers, and a very fitted t-shirt is sitting across the aisle from me. While passengers are still boarding, he rocks his iPod and strokes his Lacoste messenger bag. I’m serious. Another passenger opens the compartment over his head and, seeing an empty space, wedged his medium sized rolling suitcase into it.
Euro boy starts freaking-the-fuck-out. He’s jumping out of his seat and grabbing for the other guy’s bag. The bewildered passenger thinks Euro boy is going for his bag, so he holds it in place. The air host (steward) comes rushing down the aisle to see what the scuffle is about. Euro boy whines likes a toddler – he looks like he might break into tears.
Air host – “What’s the problem?”
Euro boy – “My jacket!”
Passenger – “What?”
Euro boy – “My jacket ees up zere!”
Air host – “Sir, can you remove your bag so I can get his jacket out?”
Passenger – “Whatever.”
The passenger lifts his suitcase out and the air host pulls a black jacket from underneath. It’s a very thin, somewhat flimsy raincoat. No special shape, no special material.
Air host – “Is this it?”
Euro boy (taking the jacket, meticulously refolding it) – “Yes. I got eet in France. Eeets very very expenseeve.”
The air host looks at the jacket for a moment, then:
Air host – “Huh. I didn’t know Sears sold raincoats in France.”
He turned and walked back to the front of the plane. I stifled a laugh, looked out the window.
Once at RDU, I saw Euro boy being picked up by a pretty-fly-for-a-white-guy white guy in a sideways Yankees hat, driving a late 90’s, white mustang with blue neon in the grill. And, to top it off, a Duke license plate on the front. Duke sucks.