Erik D. Jones’s Blog

As I write this latest blog entry, I’m sitting at gate C4 at the Las Vegas McCarren Int’l Airport waiting for my delayed Southwest flight to board so I can return home for the Christmas weekend. Before I start telling you about this interesting little anecdote, let me say that I had a really wonderful three days here gambling and spending time iwth my boyfriend Brian.

Brian returned to LAX on an America West flight out of another gate area on an ontime departure. Southwest is a totally different area, so we didn’t go thorugh the same security checkpointn. After giving Vegas another $40 at the slot machines in the common gate area, I headed out to the “C” gates to wait for my delayed flight.

I walked up to a relatively short line of folks waiting to get their boarding passes validated against their identification. I scooted down the line to this older lady who looked like she might smell of cinamon and cookie dough. She definitely had that grandmotherly look and was very polite to the woman who went in front of me.

I handed her my ID and boarding pass and she took it and placed it on the podium in front of her to look it over. As her eyes moved from my face to the podium, I noticed she stopped to look at the emblem on my sweatshirt. I was wearing my AIDS Lifecycle 5 brown pullover that I bought last June when I did the ride.

As she began to read the letters A I D S on my shirt, she quickly lost her smile. Her face hardened and then quickly turned to fear. I’m sure at that moment, she was replaying the events that had immediately taken place. “Did I touch him?” “Oh god! I touched his ID and his ticket!”

I wanted to say something to her when I noticed the look of horror on her face, but I wasn’t quite sure what to say. Do I tell her that I rode my bicycle 550+ miles to help 2300 other cyclists and volunteers raise over $8 million dollars to help support AIDS research and care? Do I explain that I washed my hands after I last used the bathroom? Do I tell her that I’m HIV negative? Her emotion was bleeding off her skin and dripping down the back of my throat. I could feel every goosebump on her body at that moment. In that short instant, I wanted to run away.

But it would be her next action that really shook me from her frame of mind and back into my own healthy perspective. She reached underneath her podium and took out a highlighter. I thought to myself, “Is she going to have me go through the special search because of my sweatshirt?” No, it turns out that wasn’t it. I would walk away without any orange highlighted marks on my boarding pass.

This seemingly innocent gingerbread house making woman who was surely some person’s mother, grandmother, loved one, used that highlighter to scoot my boarding pass with my ID on top to the edge of the podium so that she could avoid having anything more to do with my germs or A I D S.

As I stepped away from the podium towards the x-ray machines and metal detectors, I wondered, “Was I over reacting?” “Am I just paranoid?” “Did that really happen?” “Is there something wrong with me?” And I looked back to see that she had put her highlighter away as she continued to check other passengers who were free of any AIDS logos or other symbols that might remind her of things she so obviously does not understand and fears.

As I walked farther away and through the rest of the security screening process, I wasn’t sure what to feel. Should I feel angry? Should I go back and say something? What sort of justice would I demand? What would a supervisor do? Part of me wanted to yell at her, “There’s nothing wrong with me! There’s nothing wrong with people who have to face this disease! We’re all human!!! ” And part of me just wanted to run away and cry.

Being a tall white male with no overt signs of being gay, it’s not often I face any kind of obvious discrimination or prejudice. And I’m still trying to figure out how to process the emotions I’m feeling after such an event. But one thing I know for certain. I know who I am. I am a gay man. And I am proud of who I am. And I’m going to ride 550 miles again this June 2007 and I’m going to think of this woman and her ignorance. Because riding for the AIDS Lifecycle isn’t just about riding for people with AIDS. It’s about riding for people like that woman too. People who don’t understand.