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How forgetting his underwear taught this Iowan racial profiling doesn’t end at the border

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4 months ago

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How forgetting his underwear taught this Iowan racial profiling doesn’t end at the border

Kory May as told to F. Amanda Tugade
 |  Des Moines Register

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Editor’s note: Kory May first told this story on stage at the Des Moines Storytellers Project’s “Travel.” The Des Moines Storytellers Project is a series of storytelling events in which community members work with Register journalists to tell true, first-person stories live on stage. An edited version appears below.

Zoe’s text reads,” I’ll meet on you on the Sky Train landing.”

That is how I find myself flying to Vancouver, B.C. … for a woman.

I met Zoe — I mean, we didn’t actually meet — we swiped right on each other in Vancouver in 2017. We never met while I was there. We would IM each other until 2019 when she said, “Why don’t we actually try this?”

About this romance: It was if BET, Hallmark and The Travel Channel all combined to have a child. Interracial, international and interesting.

After all this time, I have to make a great first impression. You never want the myth of you to be greater than the reality of you.

Customs and baggage go off without a hitch. It’s October and being from Iowa, I’ve packed for every occasion. I find the entrance to the Sky Train and there she is!

Zoe is more beautiful than her pictures: 5’11, brunette with lovely features and a captivating smile. We hug. The ride back to her place is a blurry, floaty, giggly time like the soft focus on Martha Stewart’s TV show.  Once there, she shows me her apartment.

“Unpack and I’ll make you something to eat.”

I unzip my bag and begin. I frantically look through my duffel. Nope. I check again. Once more, I rifle through the contents. Jeans. Tees. Socks. Toiletries. Sweats. Tops. Shoes.  I have no underwear. I forgot underwear. So much for making a good impression. Mom always told me to travel with clean underwear. I did that but what about tomorrow?

“Babe, we gotta go into town.”

“What for? I have soap and deodorant, all of that stuff.”

“Um, I forgot my underwear.”

Laughter. 

Afterwards, Zoe says, ”We can walk into town in the morning. Right now, let’s get some sleep.”

In the morning, I have a pivotal decision: Reuse, recycle or commando.

Reuse? After a long day of travel, two time zones and crossing an international border? Nope.

Recycle? Inside out … flip it!

Commando? Uh … sometimes that chafes.

Recycle it is.

“Let’s go!” I’m ready. Zoe takes off like an Olympic power walker. I have to make a good impression, so I match her pace. After three blocks, my left glute is tight, my right eye is watering and I’m decongesting. At the intersection, I need oxygen. Zoe looks right. I inhale to my left. She looks to her left and our eyes lock.

At the base of a hill, I ask, “Babe, how far are we going?”

“It’s just over the hill.”

We storm three hills. After the third hill, I recognize this as the same tactic my dad used on me as an antidote to “are we there yet?” Finally, we are there. It must have been 3 hours. I check my watch. It’s a little more than one.

There it is — the department store with the promise of future clean underwear. We enter. The signs hanging from the ceiling read “Men’s Apparel — Fifth Floor.” Within the next 10 seconds, a man in a blue blazer, blue shirt, red tie, khaki slacks and black loafers bolts into motion. We board the escalator. What great customer service. He keeps a discreet three step distance from us.

We’re on the second floor, pivot and step onto the next escalator to another small landing where the escalator takes us to the third floor. He’s still there. I know what this is now. It’s supposed to be different in Canada. He thinks I’m a shoplifter. I whisper this to Zoe.

“Are you sure, Kory?”

Security switches out and another loss prevention expert takes over. Zoe notices.

My internal monologue sounds like this: What do they do to suspected shoplifters in Canada anyway? Is this going to be all over CNN? I’m not stealing anything AND I don’t even have clean underwear on. What do you wear to an international incident?

The higher I go, the angrier I get. I don’t know what to do with this anger. I expect this in the states.

Fourth floor: “Women’s apparel.” My jaws are tight. I’m wearing a black leather jacket, jeans, a sweater and Nikes. My HANDS are EMPTY.

Fifth floor: Full on rage! I’m pissed! We step onto the fifth floor. I pivot and bark in loss prevention’s face: “Can you help me find men’s underwear?” 

He blanches, and all of the blood drains from his face. He is white and then red with embarrassment. He stutters, stammers and fidgets all the way to a counter where a clerk stands. “Can you help this gentleman find some underwear?”

Zoe steps in and says, “I can take it from here.” 

Guys, if your lady says she’s going to pick out your underwear, let her. She’ll pick out what she likes and you’ll both be happy.

I pay and make sure the receipt is stapled to the bag. Business as usual.

“Babe, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, hon. All of this could have been avoided if I just packed my dadgum underwear.”

Travel means there are essentials we can’t forget, and sometimes it chafes.

ABOUT THE STORYTELLER: Kory May is a podcaster, professional storyteller and coach, improv comic and native Iowan. He lives by the motto: Live an adventurous life and you won’t be bored. Tell adventurous stories and those around you won’t be bored. At 57, life is good and the stories are only getting better.

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The Des Moines Storytellers Project strongly believes that everyone HAS a story and everyone CAN tell it. None of the storytellers who take our stage are professionals. They are your neighbors, friends or co-workers, and they are coached to tell by Register journalists. 

Want to tell your story at one of our upcoming Storytellers Project events? Read our guidelines and submit a story at DesMoinesRegister.com/Tell.

Contact storytelling@dmreg.com for more information.

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