Chapter 14: Misunderstanding

“Fall back! Fall back!”

“Hands up! Don’t move! Don’t move!”

That morning, Link finished outlining his second script, packed a few simple belongings, and rushed to Los Angeles International Airport via subway. He spent $88 on an 11:25 AM flight to New York.

However, while passing through security, two Black security guards tackled him to the ground for a search, with one of them even pointing a gun at his head.

Completely bewildered, Link was taken to the airport security office for questioning.

The officers asked why he had taped two notebooks around his waist.

Link explained that he was a director and screenwriter, and the scripts were extremely important. Given the high rate of theft in both Los Angeles and New York, he feared they might be stolen along the way. So, he had secured them to his body with tape.

He helplessly recounted an incident when his backpack was stolen while he was sleeping on a train from Salt Lake City to Los Angeles.

Public safety in America was truly terrible.

A female officer in the office flipped through the notebooks and confirmed they were indeed scripts. Rolling her eyes, she told him that thieves in the U.S. weren’t as rampant as he imagined—there was no need to be so paranoid.

She also commented that his scripts were too violent and suggested he write romance stories instead—she loved romantic films.

Once the misunderstanding was cleared up, Link grabbed his scripts and rushed through the airport, sprinting up the boarding stairs into the plane. He collapsed into his seat with a sigh of relief.

To avoid another misunderstanding upon arrival in New York, he decided to keep the scripts in his chest pocket and take them out when passing through security.

The flight from Los Angeles on the Pacific coast to New York on the Atlantic coast was about five hours long.

Settling into his seat, Link reviewed his script, marking grammatical and word choice errors with a pen. Whether due to the turbulence or the softness of the seat, he found himself getting drowsy after barely editing a page.

Not resisting the urge, he tucked the script into his chest, pulled out the footrest, and reclined into a deep sleep.

*Smack!*

“Damn yellow monkey! Can’t you stop snoring? You’re so loud—how is our boss supposed to sleep?”

“…Sorry! Sorry—wait, what the hell did you just call me, you fat bastard?!”

Link was jolted awake by a slap from behind. Initially, he instinctively apologized, but then he realized the man had used a racial slur. Instantly, he sprang up and lashed out.

However, when he turned around and saw who had hit him, he hesitated.

The man was a towering Black guy, easily over 6’3” (190 cm) and weighing at least 300 pounds. His massive frame and dark complexion made him an imposing figure.

Seated nearby were two other Black men—one wore a thick gold chain, chewing gum with a cocky expression, resembling P. Diddy.

The other had dreadlocks, headphones on, and his feet propped up on the seat in front of him, forcing the unfortunate passenger ahead to cover their nose.

“So what if I called you a yellow monkey?”

The fat Black man smirked, lips curling in contempt.

“I know you want me to retaliate with an insult, but I won’t. I’m a cultured man, raised with 5,000 years of civilization. I refuse to lower my moral standards to become as repulsive as you.

Furthermore, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. is my idol. I admire his speech, ‘I Have a Dream’, where he dreamed of a future where Black children and white children could study in the same classroom, dine at the same table, and travel on the same plane.

Thirty years after his passing, his dream finally came true. Now, people like you have the right to sit here and enjoy these privileges.

But what have you done with that right?

Instead of upholding his vision, you hurl racial slurs at others. Through your actions, you are proving that Dr. King’s dream was shattered—that his vision may never come true.

Because after gaining equality and respect, people like you have chosen to discriminate against others.

I feel sorry for you. I feel even sorrier for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I pray that he doesn’t feel rage watching this from heaven. Hallelujah.”

“Shut the hell up, kid! Don’t you dare mention Dr. King!”

The fat man clenched his fists, face contorted with fury.

“If you apologize, I will stop mentioning Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s name—right here, so close to heaven. But I need your apology.”

Link took a step back, pressing his hand against his chest to keep the script from falling to the floor.

“You want me to apologize? Heh, I’ll beat your ass first—then I’ll apologize.”

“Wallace!”

The fat Black man was about to lunge when the man with the gold chain grabbed his arm. He then glanced warily at Link and whispered something to the fat man while pointing at Link’s chest.

Wallace looked at Link’s hand resting on his chest, snorted coldly, and grudgingly lowered himself back into his seat.

“Hold on! I swear to God and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.—you still haven’t apologized.”

Link clutched his chest and spoke.

“Hey, man, how about I apologize on behalf of my buddy?”

The Black man wearing a thick gold chain grinned, showing his teeth.

“Sure, you seem like a well-mannered person. I’m willing to accept your apology.”

Seeing that things had de-escalated, Link took the win and returned to his seat.

“Whoo!!”

“Nice job, man!”

“Dude, that was well said.”

As Link sat down, a few passengers in the cabin whistled and applauded him.

He accepted the praise somewhat awkwardly. If he had a few friends with him just now, he would’ve handled the situation with force, convincing the heavyset Black guy and his friends with action rather than words.

But since he was alone, he had no choice but to rely on verbal sparring and a few tricks to get his way.

Even though he was putting up a strong front, at least he hadn’t embarrassed himself.

Just then, a flight attendant walked over. Seeing that nothing had happened, she returned to her post.

A few minutes later, a blonde woman wearing a purser’s badge approached and stopped in front of Link’s seat. She stated that someone had reported him for carrying a dangerous weapon and asked him to hand it over so the flight crew could store it safely until they arrived at the airport.

“A dangerous weapon? Where?”

Link asked, confused.

“The report says it’s in your jacket pocket.”

“A ballpoint pen counts as a dangerous weapon?”

Link pulled a pen and two scripts out of his pocket, then shook out his jacket.

The weather in Los Angeles at this time of year was comfortable enough for just a T-shirt, but the East Coast was cooler, below 68°F. Before heading out, he had deliberately worn a light jacket, but it was thin and couldn’t conceal anything.

“Sir, thank you for your cooperation. This was likely a misunderstanding. Sorry for disturbing your rest.”

“No worries, you’re just doing your job. I understand.”

“Sir, have a pleasant flight.”

The purser smiled and stepped away.

Link pulled out his script and continued editing.

Bang!

Someone kicked the back of his seat.

“Kid, you’ve pissed me off. When we get to New York, I’ll make sure to give you a warm welcome.”

A voice growled from behind him.

Link’s expression remained unchanged as he continued editing his script.

When the plane landed at LaGuardia Airport in Queens, New York, Link grabbed his backpack, quickly exited the cabin, and left the airport. As he passed a convenience store, he casually bought a pair of sunglasses and put them on.

Not far behind him, two Black men were scanning the area, looking for someone.

Once he got into a taxi, Link finally let out a sigh of relief and told the driver to take him to the apartment complex on 45th Street in Lower Manhattan.

“Heh, heh. Man, the girls there are top-notch. You here in New York for the ladies?”

The driver turned his head, his round, dark face splitting into a wide grin, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth.

(End of Chapter)