I spent a weekend in Florida to attend my family reunion. I haven’t seen my little brothers in about 2 years and I knew if I went I would be able to see them. Family reunions are always a nice way to reconnect and get reacquainted with family members that one hasn’t seen in a long time or ever in your life. To be perfectly honest though, it’s been a pretty hot minute since I’ve had the chance to get out of town, see something “new” and run away from all of my everyday responsibilities. But Hunny, a family reunion was the wrong place to go to seek relaxation and a vacation-like atmosphere.
It started with the car ride to Florida. An 8 hour drive, barely any air conditioning, no where to escape from my cousin’s slobbery, touchy-feely rowdy baby’s grasp; and the playlist was lacking in variety. I also kinda felt like my life was low key in danger. The driver pulled an all-nighter getting things together and was struggling to stay awake at the wheel, while her husband, who had gotten plenty of shut eye, lacked fucks to give about the situation.
Luckily we made it to our destination and I was greeted at the door by two of my 4 brothers. I wasn’t expecting to be as happy to see them as I was. It was a nice little moment that needed to be captured on instagram!
After the heart warming welcome, a bitch had to figure out where she was gonna turn in for the night. I didn’t book a room, because I was expecting to sleep in the room my dad got for my little brothers. Turns out my brothers were sharing a room with my dad and our step-momster!
- First of all, that’s too many people in one room.
- Second of all, the step-momster’s here?!
- Third of all, FUCK ALL OF THAT!!
I Naomi Campbelled my little ass straight to the motherfuckin desk clerk and paid for my own damn room. I wasn’t about to spend my weekend sleeping in that little clusterfuck, and I for damn sure wasn’t about to spend any more time than necessary with my cousin’s family or any body else for that matter.
Then there was the registration issue! Registration to partake in the activities and eat was a whopping 60 bucks. Of course I refused to pay the money in hopes that my caring father had already taken care of all of these expenses for his struggling son in need. As I walked through the lobby in search of my maker to ask him about registration, I kept getting stopped in my tracks by so many strangers that I apparently must be related to. A 48 second route took me, like, 8 minutes, because everybody felt the need to have the exact same conversation with me:
“Hey J!” As in J, Jay, or short version of Jason, because either way, you obviously don’t know my name.
“Do you remember me?” No.
“Boy, how you’ve grown” Are you calling me fat, or are you tryna say I could use some anti wrinkle cream?
“I remeber when you wer-” Let me stop you right there, I barely give a fuck about what I did last week.
I eventually found my father, who oddly enough had no idea that I was coming, when just the week before, he had been blowing my phone up trying to find out whether I was coming or not. Hunny, there must have been a connection problem right at that moment when I sad “Yes”, because I know I said I’ll attend. Regardless of whether he knew or not, he could’ve whipped out a few twenties in that instant. That didn’t happen, so I had to pay my own family reunion registration fee. But why wasn’t carrying the family name registration enough?!? What was really infuriating was that I payed $60 for a linen bag with sunscreen and some chapstick. Hunny, talk about a bitch being DONE!
After I finished spending about 3/4 of my hard earned paycheck, which only perpetuated my state of miserableness, I went to the nearest gas station and got myself situated with four lokos and cigarettes and locked myself in my room.
I had no intentions of leaving my room, sharing my room, being nice to anyone, or god forbid wearing that bright colored t-shirt that seems to be a common thing in a black family reunion. Hunny, my outfits were planned, and a bitch is gonna wear ’em!
We didn’t even do any fun activities like, Karaoke, or a barbeque (cuz it rained the entire weekend), or go to some amusement park. We did however have a seminar about HIV, which was very off putting. We’re family! Who in that room was I about to fuck? We’re a room full of adults, so shouldn’t we already know better??
If it wasn’t for my brothers being there, or the food being the bomb, this year’s family reunion would have been a complete waste of time.
It was very hard for me to even attempt to understand other people’s point of view about family and the importance thereof. I also couldn’t help but notice the glares some people gave me.
Yeah, I kinda stuck out because I wasn’t wearing that damn t-shirt
Yeah, I probably was painting my nails instead of learning that condoms come in different colors
And yeah, maybe I shatter the very ground we stand on, when I sissy that walk
But bitch, we family! Love me either way!
Thanks for reading!