Concorde Full of Concords

Boxes stacked on top of each other in the seats where no passengers sat. Just more boxes. Each showed the Jumpman logo. Inside the boxes were Concord 11 Jordan Brand sneakers. The supersonic flight from Paris, France headed to Wilmington, Delaware. They brought back the Concorde.

Wendell Spotwood sat beside Bogart Cadston. The former was fair skinned with cornrows and a shaved rest of his head. Cadston was fair skinned too, but he had locks that looked like braids going down his back.

Cadston got up. “I’ll be back.”

“Who needs you? I’ve got the autopilot.”

“Ha-ha.”

Cadston slid his hand over one of the boxes. He cracked the seal. The smell of rubber leather singed his nostrils. He wore a pair of gloves. He removed the sneaker and observed the white upper which looked like fluff or a cloud or creme. The bottom was a purple frozen lake or the cobalt sky and looked like formed gum fit for a foot. And finally, the most famous part of the shoe was the black patent leather. Cadston looked at the sneaker in awe, in admiration for the designer, Tinker Hatfield. He inhaled deeply.

“You finished sniffing the merchandise back there?”

“You should see how pristine these things are. Goddamn!” He made his way to the cockpit. Only a couple more hours over the Atlantic Ocean until they reached Wilmington Airport in Wilmington, Delaware.

Cadston strapped back into his seat.

“I remember I had those in grade school,” Spotwood mentioned.

“I did, too, except I had the Space Jam J’s,” Cadston pointed out. He said with pride and a hint of sadness.

“What’s got you glum?”

“I remember my parents giving me everything and anything I ever wanted or needed. My younger sisters, too. I also remember how I got clowned for wearing the shoes, ironically.”

“I was made fun of, too. They called me––”

“Lightbright,” the two men said at the same time. They could laugh about it now.

“You know, none of that really stuck to my conscience, though. I knew I was light-skinned. So what? I would learn that it’s just chemicals that make the difference. I never got bogged down in the idea of being too white or too black. I just was my own person. Now, as a man, a pilot,

I really don’t have time for that coloristic nonsense,” Cadston explained.

“High yellow, half-breed, freckles, all of that never affected me either. It’s too bad when kids get lost in hatred and never grow out of it,” Spotwood observed.

“I’m just glad I can afford as many sneakers for my kids as possible,” Cadston made certain.

The supersonic boom occurred right over the ocean and propelled them further to the States.

“Those precious cargo back there could run you about two grand a pop,” Spotwood mentioned. He looked out through the clouds.

“Of all the things to be made fun of, it wasn't the fact that I had on bobos, it was because the kids who couldn’t afford the shoes made fun of me. But I tossed it right back.”

“You got in their faces?”

“You damn right. When they asked what size shoe I wore my response was always ‘Your lousy papa’s who couldn’t get a job that pays to get these sneakers.’ Oh, sure I got into a few tussles over that. But I won every fight.”

“I can relate to that,” Spotwood acknowledged. “One time, I had to fight off two dudes. Right in the boys room. I had no help save for the cover on the paper towel dispenser. I bashed them both in the head with the piece of metal. They didn’t seek revenge or anything. They knew their place after that.”

The force of the plane kept them aloft and in good time. About an hour separated them from their destination.

“It’s a shame what’s happening to younger people nowadays. People get killed over those sneakers. I recall the days of just standing up for yourself and going blow for blow. Now, they’re just dumping the steel over a pair of gym shoes,” Cadston commented.

“If I had to say, I would definitely encourage my kids to never be a bully and never get bullied,” Spotwood replied.

“But that’s just it, a bully would pester and motivate you. A thug, a brute would just blow you away and leave off with the spoils,” Cadston retorted.

“It’s the darknesses. The dark skinned kids are the ones doing all of this,” Spotwood opined.

“I don’t think that’s true. People of our complexion also have problems with raising pistols to folks just to rob them of their prized footwear. You know Cassie. She’s black at night and gave me three boys who are darker than I. I don’t have a problem with people with a higher concentration of melanin. Do you have a problem?”

“I’m just pointing out that they hate us because of the color of our skin and the texture of our hair. They especially hate the girls. The wavy haired light skinned girls catch hell because of their fair features. Those dark skinned women don’t want to admit it but they’ll be ready to fight a light skinned girl because of her fairness. That’s facts,” Spotwood clarified.

“No, they’re not. Light skinned girls are just like light skinned guys. They can be vicious and ready to start a fight. I never picked a fight but I certainly finished them with my Jordans still on my feet and my head lifted high,” Cadston said.

“Hey. take over the controls,” Spotwood said. “I’ve got to hit the head.”

Cadston complied and waited for his co-pilot to return. He looked at the hues of the sky that matched the soles of the Concords. The ocean below looked like patent leather, black and glossy. The white clouds looked like the upper portion of the sneaker.

Before returning to his chair, Spotwood looked at the merchandise. “It’s these damned sneakerheads. They’re the modern day gangsters who seek to damage and or destroy the beautiful nature of having these gorgeous shoes.” The pristine idealism of the sneakers is what appealed to him in the first place. It was why he took the job. He fell to one knee. He wanted to protect these coveted pairs of Jordans. If he could, he’d sprout wings wider than the plane and shelter the shoes from being speckled with blood from some young gangbanger who had a penchant for preying upon upstanding citizens. He vowed he would never let that happen.

“What did I miss?”

“We just got comms that said we should be approaching the airport in about forty five minutes.

“What are some of the things that used to drive you crazy when you were confronted not just by dark skinned kids but light skinned children, too?” Spotwood asked.

“I remember this one kid. He was brown skinned, not too light, not dark either. He would try to clown me and make it seem like having two working parents who could provide for me was something to tamp down and be ashamed of for a reason I know not.”

“What happened?”

“He ended up in juvenile hall for a statutory rape charge and then got locked up in state penitentiary for assault and battery. The hatred that seethes in kids comes out in wild ways. If he had just let go of his hate towards me, he would still be a free man today. It had little to do with skin complexion in this instance. At least on my part.”

Spotwood shook his head. “It’s nasty out there. All of these sneakers are going to either fortify someone’s self-esteem or rob them of their lives. That’s the truth.”

“I think they’re isolated incidents. With us, we were called out because of our light skinned nature. Now, it’s purely to snatch the sneakers to flip them on the Internet.”

“So, you mean to tell me that skin complexion has nothing to do with what happened to us?” Cadston queried.

“Listen to me. I’m not saying that. I’m just saying their motivation is squarely on what’s on the kids’ feet. They don’t care if they're the whitest or the blackest, they just want the sneakers in hand,” Spotswood replied.

“That may be true,” Cadston admitted.

“I know it is. Those boxes back there might mean a casket for someone’s child. It’s reckless to think that only the classic school bully would engage in such behavior. The sneakerheads are to blame,” Spotwood shot back.

The Concorde was just about to land. While still in the air, Cadston offered one last though about the sneakers.

“May these shoes wrap around your feet and never be the source of a killing,” It wasn’t a prayer to God for the wearers but an invocation to reason and reality.

Spotwood didn’t say amen but simply nodded his cover in recognition.

“I can certainly agree on that one.” The pilots remained in the air just thinking.