Dinner.

So I went to this sandwich shop that just opened up. It was called (and in the style of Dave Barry, I swear I am not making this up) Kazoopie's. It looked exactly like a place called Kazoopie's would look like. But apparently, they make a chicken sandwich with onion rings on it. It was good.

So I placed my order, sat down at a table, and waited for the guy to bring me my sandwich. He was an exceptionally cute guy, too, but I figured the three earrings in each (visible) lobe were purely decorative, and I don't really hit on people at work, anyway. Well, not since I was seventeen or so, anyway.

While I was waiting for my sandwich, three black guys walked into the shop. These were young guys, late teens to early twenties, and they were wearing clothes and haircuts that are, according to all of the Law and Order episodes I've seen on the subject, favored by (and possibly designed by) graffiti artists. One guy had writing carved so elaborately into his hair that I didn't realize, at first, that I was supposed to read it.

And here's the part where I start to lose any self-respect I might have gathered this week. As soon as they walked in, my heart rate picked up. My muscles tensed, and I became aware of their movements in the shop, even when I wasn't watching them out of the corner of my eye. In order to avoid undo notice myself, I focused intensely on the Sudoku game I had going. They walked up to the counter, placed their own orders, and, like I had done, sat down to wait. Eventually, they got bored and wandered around the shop a bit, looking at the news article that was on the wall declaring the place open for business. My sandwich came, and I switched from focusing too much on my game to focusing too much on my dinner. Visions ran through my head of possible violent outcomes to the scenario: What would I do if they started harassing me? What if they were armed?

And then, all of a sudden...! Nothing really happened. They got their dinner to go, and went. They didn't bother anyone, they just walked out and on with their lives, leaving me to deal with the foul stench of my own ingrained racism. Admittedly, some of it was their style; if they'd been dressed differently, I would have reacted differently. But if they'd been white (or Asian or Aboriginal Australian or whatever), I would have reacted differently, too. Three white guys dressed like that? I would have dismissed them as posers and not given it a second thought. I'd like to think I judge people based on their behavior, not their outward appearance, but if I'm honest, I just can't. I don't know if everyone actually is a little bit racist, but I guess I can't say no one is.

P.S. I suppose something positive should come out of this whole experience. I think I'll go down to the cable company and cancel my service. I watch too damn much TV.