Please Don’t Talk To Me On Planes & Other Requests

I fly a lot. Like more than I probably even realize. It seems like on the third Wednesday of every month; I’m sitting at some gate in LaGuardia Airport, clutching my beloved medium Dunkin Donuts coffee (cream and two Splendas) while dreaming up all the ways I’m going to spend my per diem at the hotel I’m going to check into. I’m not a fan of flying by any means. In fact, when my mother was dying during the first half of my college years, I developed a phobia of flying that made even the thought of it crippling. Each flight ended with a long and unpleasant time in the bathroom while I tried to calm my stomach and nerves back in formation. Luckily, for the sake of my sanity and my career, I got over that. Nowadays if I’m not going home to Chicago or on some exotic Groupon vacation that I’ve booked with my sister or bestie, I’m usually traveling for work (ie: someone is paying me to go fly somewhere (usually to like Los Angeles or Atlanta or whatever but I’m not complaining) to watch a movie or show, interview some celebs, write about that shit and take long luxurious baths in the tubs at five star hotels). It’s a pretty kick-ass gig and fits right in with my bougie lifestyle (even though in real life I’ve lived in the same box in Harlem for the past six years with my variety of Raid sprays to kill any and every bug that may infiltrate my bubble.)

To get back on topic, the trip thing in itself is quite a delight, and it makes me feel all adult and professional to say that I’m traveling for business. (Sometimes if I’m feeling extremely Whitley Gilbert, I’ll even upgrade to First Class, but only if it’s for a flight over four hours and it’s less than $79.99… let’s not get crazy.) However, the trip itself and the fellow creatures that pretend that they’re human beings usually like to make my life miserable on planes. It’s one thing if you’re under five and can’t control yourself, but it's usually grown folks who are the absolute worst.

All I want to do on flights is listen to Brandy’s Greatest Hits Album, work a little (because bills) and read whatever that latest filthy novel is that I’ve downloaded on my Kindle on the dimmest setting possible. (NO CARL I don’t want to tell you what I’m reading!!!) Instead, I'm usually forced to sit next to Mildew John (washing machines are not a new invention) or Patrick or Mable who tells me she reminds me of her granddaughter or well-meaning Beth Ann who wants to strike up a conversation with me. Listen, I’m almost polite to a fault. I’m always going to nod and smile and listen to your tragic tale of how you're visiting your sister Betsey for the first time in five years, and you’re going to go to Cracker Barrel or whatever or how you find that it’s so intriguing that I can actually LIVE in New York. Mostly, I would rather be getting my pubs waxed or getting my annual gyno exam instead of listening to you. It has also become increasingly more difficult to be nice to Dwights I don’t know since ya’ll ruined everything and elected Dump. I really can’t trust you at all, and I would rather sit in silence than have to try and figure out who you voted for  Even when you think you get lucky on a long ass flight to LA in coach, and there is no one in the middle seat, someone makes it an ordeal. Why is it acceptable for you to take off your filthy Berkinstocks Paul, and put your BARE FEET on the seat between us? I wish I were watching the news instead. But by far, the worse offense of plane traveling is this new age bullshit where Sally and Gereldene from row 6998Z run their desperate asses to the front as soon as the plane parks even though 4 million people are in front of them and we’ve gotten to the gate 30 minutes early. I hate you. (But I’m tragically too nice to ever say some shit like that. )

xoxoxo Chocolategirl in the City xoxoxo

Visiting the Curaçao Set for Ernest Dickerson’s Latest Feature Film 'Double Play' Was a Journey Rife With History and Understanding

History is often told through the perspective of those who are in power. So much of what is written erases the experiences of those who are marginalized in society. With his arresting and groundbreaking novel, “Double Play”; Curaçaoan author Frank Martinus Arion gave the world a unique view into the island of Curaçao and its culture. Nearly 45 years after the novel was first published, acclaimed Director Ernest Dickerson (“Juice”, “The Wire”, “The Walking Dead”) and Executive Producer Lisa Cortes (“Precious”) are bringing this story to the big screen. Using Curaçao not only as a backdrop for the story, but also weaving its traditions throughout this exquisite tale, Dickerson and his team have begun bringing this story to life.

Shadow and Act was recently invited to visit the set of “Double Play” in Curaçao where I spoke with Dickerson, Cortes, and the majority of the film’s cast.

tepping foot on the tiny island, which is recognized as a country within the Kingdom of the Netherlands, the richness of the place is evident. The multitude of colors and faces shows a story of migration, enslavement, perseverance and settlement. On the journey to the set, we encountered both half constructed homes with crumbling facades, along with much larger buildings behind gates.  This paradox raises a number of questions and begs that Curaçao’s past be told.

“Double Play” is a story of an older gentleman named Ostrik, his return home to Curaçao after many years away, and his childhood reflections. Set around a daylong game of dominos played between Ostrik’s father Bubu and four of his friends, in 1973, Ostrik recalls the events that dramatically shaped his formative years. Black men congregating within competitive spaces is an age-old scenario. However, the combative nature of Curaçaoan dominos makes this setting all the more unique.

Continue reading at Shadow and Act.

Image: E.J. Dickerson

'Underground' Sneak: Heroic Slaves in a Story About Freedom Rarely Told in American History

Last month I was invited to Memphis, Tennessee to screen the first episode of the WGN Americas’ upcoming series “Underground”. Stepping off the plane and making my way through the airport, I felt as if I had been jolted back in time. Memphis is one of those places that seem to be frozen in a specific era, steps behind other cities across the country; especially a city like New York. The evening I arrived, I made my way to Blues City Café, a restaurant recommended by my hotel concierge. As I walked along the deathly quiet streets alone, I realized this was one of those rare places that forced you to slow down and really absorb what was happening around you.

The next evening, I made my way to the press screening which was held in the National Civil Rights Museum. The museum is built around the former Lorraine Motel, where Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated on April 4, 1968. Walking up to the museum door, you see not only the balcony where MLK Jr. last stood, but also the room where his assassin hid. To say it was eerie is an understatement. I’d arrived at this particular place to see the first episode of a series surrounding the lives of slaves who lived on a Georgia plantation in 1857. Still, the ride that “Underground” took me on that evening was nothing like I had expected. Though I am anxious to share more of my thoughts on the first episode, I will wait until we get closer to the series premiere to share more.

Until then, here are some highlights from the panel of cast and creators, including, actors Jurnee Smollett-Bell, Alano Miller, Amirah Vann; creators, Misha Green and Joe Pokaski, as well as producer Mike Jackson and the museum’s Director of Interpretation, Collections and Education, Dr. Noelle Trent.

On Coming to “Underground”

Jurnee Smollett-Bell: The way my agent described it was as a TV show about slavery. It wasn’t until I read the script that I thought, oh I get it, this is not what I thought it was.  I wouldn’t have done this if it were something that we’ve seen before because it’s already been done and done well. What excited me so much about ”Underground” is that this is a narrative we haven’t seen.  The Underground Railroad is a paragraph in our history books and the name that they mention is Harriet Tubman.  And for me, it was incredibly exciting to see these stories played out. These are untold stories and voices that we have never heard from.

Alano Miller: I think I was with Jurnee on this because I thought, I don’t know if this is going to be possible.  But obviously the script is just amazing. I think what made me feel great about it is that it wasn’t about victims. This was a group of people who were taking ownership. They were heroes, they were revolutionaries, and they were trying to break the mold. I think that’s a story that we just don’t tell. We have to change the perspective of slavery in a sense that it is something that greatness is born out of, as opposed to, we are just beaten and destroyed. So with that, Joe and Misha brilliantly throughout the series, just keep building these superheroes up.

Amirah Vann: Going though this tour after having now done season one, I’m so proud of what we overcame. I feel too often when I was coming up, all I heard were the horrors. That’s the only thing that was echoing in my spirit and in my mind. This time around, having been able to do this series, I heard more of the heroic side of it. The same story was being told, but I was like, oh my God, we overcame that, we built that, oh they fought for that, and they believed in that. There was hope, and that’s a beautiful thing and I want to pass it on.

On Knowing the History of the Underground Railroad.

Misha Green:  I didn’t know much actually, like Jurnee said, there really is just a paragraph in our history books.  I knew that it was an amazing story, but, the more we started researching it was like, truth is stranger than fiction. We couldn’t make up the stories we were reading, the ways that these people were fighting back.  From the beginning we knew that this wasn’t about the occupation, it was about the revolution. And to know it was based in truth gave it a deeper meaning.

Joe Pokaski: I was a political science major, and all I knew about the Underground Railroad was that square you see. That was part of what really excited me about this project, was how ignorant I was to the experience. I remember thinking as a really stupid kid in junior high that if I was a slave I would just hook up with the Underground Railroad, and problem solved. What Misha and I learned as we researched, was that most slaves were either recaptured or killed; it was the hardest thing a human being could do. As a writer, you have to make up stories about people who are told they’re worthless, and put up against horrible odds. This is probably the most heroic story that has never been told in American History.

On the Key Themes In “Underground”

Misha Green: I think about what kind of world we are building for our children. I think that is definitely a theme that you see in the pilot and throughout the entire series; because I think that it’s something worth thinking about. And also, how active is you activism.

Continue reading at Shadow and Act.

Image: seen at the First-Look Screening and Panel Discussion for WGN America's "Underground" at the National Civil Rights Museum, on Wednesday, Oct. 21, 2015 in Memphis, Tenn. (Photo by Phillip Parker/Invision for WGN America/AP Images)

Sisters In Paris (Or Boobs, Snakes & General Confusion)

If you know me, then you know I don't do waiting  because I don't have patience. This means that long drawn out plane rides are the bane of my Black ass existence. Prior to going to Paris, my longest plane ride was to LA to see Sister. The entire time I sat in my JetBlue seat grumbling, and frantically clicking on the flight tracker to see what part of the USA we were currently flying over.  Getting to Europe was a whole lot worse. Poor Sister had been flying since the evening before, and I met up with her at JFK to hop on our AirFrance flight. Mind you I was still on the clock, so I was basically walking through the airport in yoga pants and converse while frantically banging on my laptop. When we got on the plane, my laptop died and I tragically discovered that AirFrance does not have outlets.

Somehow I made it through. After reading a couple of books, pestering Sister awake from her slumber, and eating several meals, (Seriously the best part about international flights is the fact that they feed you a zillion times) we finally arrived in Paris. We'd skipped the night so after leaving NYC at 5PM ET we arrived about seven hours later in Paris at 6AM their time. Obviously because life ain't always grand, our room wasn't ready at our hotel when we got their  so we did a quick change and made our way to Le Tour Eiffel aka The Eiffel Tower also known as the place of hopes dreams and happiness.

Stairs It Is

Lines and Chocolate Girl are not BFFs. Sister and I arrived at the  Eiffel Tower about 10AM on our first day in Paris and there were already several lines of death at every entrance. The shortest one was one where you walked up the tower. No ELEVATOR. Clearly, being the impatient ingrate that I am, I forced poor Sister who is still going though physical therapy from the demise of her knee climb the tower with me.  It really wasn't all that bad. With breaks we climbed the to the second landing in about 30 mins.  We squeezed in an elevator line and rode to the very top and then we rode down. On the way back to the hotel, we devoured some not so memorable food and saw the Arc du Triomphe I refused to get too close to it because it stood in the middle of this chaotic circle. I was certain I would be scraped across the street if I were to try and cross without any pedestrian walkway. Plus Sister and I were delirious with exhaustion. We headed back to our hotel were we promptly passed out until dinner time.

An Evening of Boobs & Snakes

I figured that while we were in the City of Light we absolutely had to see the Moulin Rouge show. After reading the Yelp reviews I was a bit hesitant, but I had already paid them my coins months before so I figured what the hell. After dinner sister and I made over to the show. We were promptly seated in the very front right next to the sage with a lovely American and Australian couple. (I know I'm going to sound awful but hearing English was lovely). Champagne bottles were popped and the show commenced. At first, it seemed like we would just be seeing a lot of boobs and dancing (and who am I to complain I love breasts just like the next gal) but then things got much more spicy. We saw, a roller skating couple who preformed flying acrobatics while on skates! I shit you not it FREAKING epic! Some sexy men tumbled about, and then there were SNAKES. Now if you recall,  I was seated right next to the stage. I could reach out and touch the dancers I was THAT CLOSE. In the middle of the show the stage suddenly moved back, and from the floor rose a giant water pit full of snakes. Not no baby snakes either,  some big ass ridiculous size boas that belong in the Amazon and far away from me. To my horror, a naked lady then promptly walked out on stage and dove the fuck into the tank. Clearly the first thing I did was cover my eyes. If you know me the you know I don't do horror, scariness or fear NO MA'AM I don't even like scary movies.  But that was not all, it got much worst. One of the snakes had the BLACK NERVE to inch above the water tank during the act, which means the damn snake was about two inches from my face. As I mentioned, sister and I were sitting with two couples, next to me was the lovely American woman. I nearly leaped into her lap. She was a super petite woman probably like a size 2 so, as you can imagine it was not pretty. Luckily, snake tamer gal quickly got her slittery friend in order, I drank a ton more of champagne and I took my but back to the hotel and went to sleep. (Well for a bit, is it weird that my body never adjusted to the time difference I would pass out for like 4 hrs a night and then  be wide awake.)

Did I Mention I Don't Do Lines?

I loved Paris, and considering the fact that I'm normally a Type A walking disaster, I only had one small mini breakdown. Luckily beloved Sister was there to hold me together. The morning after our evening of tits and snakes, Sister and I arose with the sun to venture to Versailles. Our friendly Black Frenchman at the hotel told us it was best not to try and take the subway all the way there, so instead, Sister and I took what would be the equivalent of the Long Island Railroad out to the city. After probably 30 mins of confusion once was got to the train station, we finally sort of figured out what to do and how to get there.  Unfortunately we discovered that the damn machine to buy tickets only took coin Euros, and it rejected our lovely debit cards SMH. By this time I was annoyed boots. I told Sister that we would just take a Uber the rest of the way because the entire situation was too difficult, and it was making me feel pressed. (Yes, I'm working on handling my stress in more positive ways...but whatever I'm human and ish.)  In response, Sister gave me a grimace of disgust (she's as cheap as possible, so she was never gonna pay for anybody's Uber), she then gave me soothing pat on the head and went off on the quest to acquire some coins. After Sister saved the day, we arrived to Versailles in due time, only to run into the longest line of life. Luckily, being the nerds that we are, we'd packed our  Kindles for the hour wait. Still there was some excitement. Some rather large girl decided to beat the shit out of her little brother while we were all waiting. Though parents were horrified and humiliated,  Sister and I were delighted. (Seriously, this is why children don't deserve European Vacations.) Anyway, we saw Louie's fancy house which was crazy opulent and insane, and then we walked about his gardens until we were fatigued to death and dying of hunger. We headed back to Paris for lunch. I got a shrimp salad that was life itself, and ma petite seour got a croquette madame. Then of course a nap happened. For dinner we had an authentic Parisian meal which was AMAZEBALLS and then we puttered about until 11PM (when the sun FINALLY set) and saw the Eiffel Tower light show. (I felt real bad because it was freezing and Sister forgot her sweater, she was a trooper though.) Twas a lovely day.

But, Where's the Hunchback?

After scarfing down some delicious cheeses and croissants, Sister and I ventured out of our hotel on our last day in Paris in search of the Mona Lisa.  After standing in line with our student IDs in hand, and a bunch of tourists who stood WAY TOO CLOSE (listen some people need to learn a thing or two about respecting personal space) we finally made it inside the Louvre to purchase tickets. At the counter, we were promptly told by the bitchy ticket lady that they only gave student discounts to European students. Sister hit her with the "bitch you tried it", and we promptly moved on to a different line. Though this lady was more kind, she still tried to get 15 Euros from each for us. No Ma'am. Not to see a a notebook paper size picture of a white lady I've seen a thousand times before. I hit her with a polite no thanks and Sister and I headed out. (LOL yes that was my Louvre experience but museums are free-ish in NYC, so i just couldn't bring myself to pay, plus sister had already seen da Vinci's gal during her previous Euro excursions.) Despite our cheeses and morning breads we were ravenous, so we went off in search of Laduree's macaroons. (Sister adores macaroons more than life....also during this trip she gonna tell me if we weren't sisters we wouldn't be friends!) After finding the place we decided to rest our weary feet and indulge in some Sunday high tea. That was probably one of my favorite moments in Paris, being as bougie as possible and experiencing lovely treats with the sis. I've done high teas before at Bergdorf's but this was a whole new experience.

Post tea (and Sister taking the entire duration of life to pick out the perfect set of macaroons), we went in search of Notre Dame and some souvenirs. Approaching the church, I got caught up with some insane man who was giving out free hugs. Sister saw him immediately (she doesn't do human contact) and ran away as swiftly as possible. Notre Dame was gothic and what not, but people were loud and rude, plus I felt a way about there being a gift shop in a church. I was also pressed about not seeing the hunchback. (Don't worry I lit my candle and said my prayer before I left, I know God forgives my foolishness). We rounded out the day with some stunning Italian food and then headed back to our hotel to pack. I would be turning 25 the next day and we were heading South to Nice.

To Be Continued...

xoxoxo Chocolate Girl In the City xoxoxo

Images: Chocolate Girl In the City (8); Giphy(1)

The Time I Saw The Queen

"She had no right to approach me and my life like that with those vocals" ~ Kid Fury

New Orleans is hot. No, not like summer time Chi or no air conditioning in your apartment hot, it's a whole other type of moist heat. I imagine it's what standing  inside of a butt hole feels like. You can hardly even breathe. And yet, if you ever get the opportunity it's definitely somewhere that you ought to go. Bestie and I had spoken of going for awhile. Originally, sister and I were suppose to go in January, but father winter, being the evil man that he is thwarted out plans.

But alas things aren't so cruel. Fate stepped in when Bey + Jay announced they would bless us with their "On the Run" tour. Instead of bestie coming to NYC and venturing out to Jersey, or me returning to the Chi on a regular ass Thursday night, we decided to make an adventure out of it and bless NOLA with our presence.  I left work early last Friday eve and sat in a cab as it crawled towards the airport. (And good thing i decided not to be cheap because I barely made my flight....this is becoming a habit of mine.)

The flight in itself was a sordid tale. A large group of drunken girls stumbled upon the plane headed to NOLA for a bachelorette weekend. They delighted in yelling across the aisle at one another and reciting lines for Bridesmaids at anyone who had the misfortune of hearing.  I also had the good luck of sitting next to a woman who was terrified to fly. Having battled with that fear myself I was sympathetic but then i just really wanted to read my filthy book and not look at any more pictures from her daughter's wedding.

Upon my arrival in Nawlins' I hung out in the airport playing on my tablet as I waited for Bestie to get in. After embracing (dramatically as we do_, we checked into our delightful hotel (the Doubletree of course because there is cookies which I proceeded to have at least five of over the course of the weekend), and ventured out into the night for some delicious and fattening nourishment.

We stumbled upon a hole in the wall and and i politely scarfed up this gem.

Shrimp Po'Boy

NOLA had already wiggled her way into my heart...and belly.

The next day it was overcast but we ventured out anyway, walking around the French quarter for hours and hours. We stopped for lunch and guzzled down large alcoholic slushies. Then we proceed to do one of my most favorite activities, people watch.

I don't know how many of these i had....but it was alot.

The people alone were enough to occupy our attention. I'm always baffled by the fact that people come out on the street looking any type of way. It was so amusing. As we strolled and sipped we spotted an extremely large man with a shirt that said king on the front, when he turned around it read, "Together 20". Intrigued of course, we decided to stop and lean against a wall whilst sipping our drinks (because public alcohol consumption is a thing) to await his queen.  And see her we did. Soon enough she came barreling down the street in a matching grey t-shirt that said "Queen" on the font. We waited with baited breath, beside ourselves with glee until she blessed our lives with the back of her shirt. It read..... (drumroll please) "Since 13". Now if you are slow like I can sometimes be, I will spell it out for you. As a pair, their shirts read... "Together since 2013". Already mildly intoxicated I began to shake with laughter, howling and holding on to the side of the wall. Perhaps I seem like an asshole but it was so absurd I was in utter disbelief. (And girl you would have laughed too!) They had the black nerve to not only be grown and dressing alike, but also to try and stunt like their relationship was really on. Ma'am... Sir, you do realize its only 2014. But back to the trip.

That New Orleans heat wears down on you. After too may beignets, fried oysters and an abundance of cheese, we spent late Saturday evening frolicking in our hotel room. It was quite a thrill though, because the ballroom was on the 16th floor of the hotel (we were on the 14th) and we got to listen to an entire wedding reception.)  Also, The French Quarter ain't no place you want to end up alone or even with one of your girlfriends on a Saturday night. I saw some things that I can never unsee and I was nearly accosted by a gentlemen as we left Deanies Seafood Restaurant.

Sunday Morning we awoke to a monsoon. We stumbled downstairs in search of some coffee for my caffeine addicted body and because we were not going to be rained on, we went in search of the infamous 16th floor ballroom. We stumbled upon African church service being held there....that was oddly terrifying.  Once the rain finally slowed, we pathetically put on foolish looking rain ponchos and we ventured back towards the French Quarter in search of ever more butter, fat and grease. And find it we did at Oceana Grill. (I could never live down south...there is only so much will power a greedy girl can have). Full and sleepy, we knew that we needed time to prepare our spirits for the reason that we were in NOLA in the first place....The real Queen.

Bestie chose a hotel that was in waking distance of the Superdome and what a fantastic choice she made. While everyone was stuck in horrendous traffic, we strolled or happy butts right up into the dome and were in our floor seats yb 8PM.  Concert didn't start until 9:30 but I was not mad. I'm telling you it was worth every penny...every moment agonizing about what to wear. It was worth me nearly cussing out this incompetent woman who worked at the venue who had no idea what she was talking about, as well as the man I wanted to punch in the face for smoking reefer right in my face. Sir, what you do with your life is your black ass choice but what you won't ever do is ruin my experience smh It was way too crowded for all that.

This was my first "real" concert experience. As you may know I'm much more of a film person so concerts don't really intrigue me. But this one was something that I was not ever going to miss.

Anyways here are so highlights.

The next day we woke up late (it was Monday), and tried to saunter about getting treats to take home with us. The sun was out and beaming down on us...therefore our saunter was short lived.  NOLA was a treat though and I'm so glad I got a chance to go.

If you can every now and then treat yourself to a long weekend. Even if it isn't far go somewhere that you've never been before and do some ish you've never done before. For me it reenforces the fact that the sky is the limit.

xoxoxoxox Chocolate Girl In the City xoxoxoxo