This is a long and complicated post. I've rewritten it several times. I may edit it. I may just let it be. I'm not sure.
Dear Reader,
You know (all three of you who read this blog) I'm a fairly well adjusted and mostly rational person. I mean, once in a while here in the blog I do express my inner frustrations with life, indeed. But, for the most part, out in the world amongst other people, I do not lose my mind.
An incident after the Frank Turner/Counting Crows show at MGM National Harbor a couple weeks ago is something I want to share because I'm still trying to process it.
Finally getting to see Frank Turner was a dream come true for me, and my heart was so full. Counting Crows didn't disappoint, and if you read the last entry, yeah, Adam does weird things with the singing of his songs anymore, but overall, it was delightful.
After the show, we played penny slots kind of on a lark, and won back the cost of the tickets, the crummy food we ate, and the gas we put in the car to get down there.
I was pretty happy as we got to the elevator to head down.
Your humble narrator was in a very good mood.
A disheveled, unmasked, older white man holding a Shake Shack take-away bag stepped on the elevator first, and held the door for us. He immediately started pressing the close door button, even though 4 black people were trying to get on. They (the 4 black people) managed to get in, and rode down 2 levels.
We were going 2 levels further down, same floor as the old man.
When the four other passengers stepped off on their floor, he started pounding the close door button again.
He said "It never fails," and he shook his head. "Bunch of ni**ers sat down and fucked the table on me, it never fails. Those kind of people shouldn't be allowed in a nice place like this."
"Rough night? heh heh heh," Doug said, and I am not sure he heard what the man just said, and was just reacting to his overall demeanor.
As for me, if I didn't have a mask on my mouth would have been visible - open as wide as my eyes.
Dude then says, "Those c**ns do it all the time, they ..." but he didn't get much deeper into his sentiments. I put a stop to it.
"The fuck did you just say?" came out of my mouth. Loudly.
He was muttering more things, but what I said pulled him up. He looked me straight in the eyes, and said "oh you got a mouth on you, you're worse than me!" You better fucking believe it, champ, ole buddy, ole pal, and here it comes. Get ready.
"What the fuck is wrong with you? You don't get to say that to us or anyone, you racist motherfucker!"
The elevator opens at our level in the parking garage and he exits first, fast, with me on his tail. There are 10 people in the parking garage lobby, of mixed races and appearances, all waiting for the elevator to go up to the casino. And there goes the racist, and here I come behind him, yelling.
He says something I can't quite hear or process (because I'm screaming at the back of his dumb head) about me and "those people."
I continued yelling at him, calling him out. Thinking of my friends, all through the years with the "those people" comment, I couldn't bear it.
"You don't know me, and you don't know my people, you racist fuck," as he booked it out the double glass doors on one side of the lobby, and Doug waited for me by the doors on the other side of the lobby.
"Fuck you and your racist bullshit," I screamed through my mask. Hopefully that phrase snagged the ring around the collar on the back of his filthy sweatshirt like an outraged, angry animal, biting and clawing through his skull.
I walked over to Doug, we walked out the doors to go to our car, and we have not spoken about this at all.
And that makes me mad, a little.
My outburst didn't need for him to congratulate me for being harsh/right/tough with this guy. I also don't need for him to tell me "you know, you shouldn't engage with these people."
None of this was performative. None of this was something I wanted a cookie or a pat on the head for. I know me, and maybe you know me, and I'm not going to put up with that. I wish Doug had the same outrage as I have, sometimes. But he plays it safe.
I think Doug thinks we're going to get us knived, or beat up, or murdered one of these days.
My mouth is going to get us in trouble. Okay, yes, I get that.
Case in point: A few years ago we were at a hotel once in Pennsylvania where a couple good ole boys who were also staying at the hotel who were in the parking lot taunting and baiting the young black kid at the front desk to come out and fight with them off camera.
The kid wasn't taking the invitation. I sat at the window, with it wide open, listening. I heard him say "I don't need this, I'm in college. I'm just trying to do my job. I asked you to keep it down in your room and in the parking lot because the other people staying here are blowing up my phone. I'm not going to fight you and give all that up and end up in jail."
I wanted to go downstairs and stand with the boy. I yelled a bunch of shit out the window at the guys in the parking lot at that point. Doug yanked me back from the window as he was on the phone with the police to get them to come and respond to the situation, as I expected at that point (or at least I hoped) the cops of Center Township were on the way.
Doug has a "let the authorities handle this" philosophy and I do respect that. Truth be told, I wouldn't be able to reason with two drunk fuckers from Alabama if their girlfriends, who were also yelling at them to knock it off and come back in the room, couldn't.
And of course the cops came. And of course the guys were like "oh, gee officer, I'm sorry if you think that maybe there was some yelling. We're just having some fun. Nothing is happening here..." and the cops left. Only to have this all start over as soon as the tail lights approached the mall.
But. In this case. On the elevator.
You get on an enclosed elevator with me, and you think it is okay, or "safe" to open your mouth to a couple white people and we'll be all "yeah, ni**ers, amirite?" right there with you... you picked the wrong person to lift the front of your KKK hood towards and show your face. Because I see you.
I didn't have enough time, but I wanted to say other things. Here is my list of items I would have said if he had turned around and not tucked his ratty tail between his smelly ass cheeks and run off.
1. Did it cross your mind it doesn't matter what color people are, that maybe you just suck at gambling? They didn't fuck the table on you, you just suck at this. Spend your money on other things like hygiene.
2. They shouldn't let those people in a nice place like this? Have you looked at yourself, my man. You look like a fucking pig sty, you fell off the tractor and straight into the manure pile. You are filthy, dirty, motherfucker outside and inside. Why don't you use money to buy laundry detergent instead of gambling.
3. Who do you think we are, that you're safe to get in here and open your mouth like that just because we're white. We're going to agree with you? You've made a big mistake with that kind of assumption, you fossil. You relic. You piece of shit.
4. Too bad you didn't win some money because you could build your ass a time machine to go back to some fucking Jim Crow era bullshit southern town and hang out with those of your ilk. You can badmouth black people and give them shit at the counter at Woolworth's while they are just trying to eat some lunch. You could go yell at an elementary school girl just trying to go to class, with a police escort. Yeah, too bad. Too bad.
5. So that Shake Shack bag? I bet a person of color made you that food at 1am working their ass off. I bet you didn't tip. And I sure hope to fuck you choke on it. Enjoy!
6. They shouldn't let those kind of people into this nice of a place? Have you taken a look at yourself, inside and out. You shouldn't be allowed in. You're the problem.
I'm still mad. This ruined the night for me.
And I have a lot of feelings.
Frank Turner has a wonderful song about just being nice, called "Be More Kind." Here's the song if you want to go watch, and I hope you do. I picked a live version just for you. There's a little tremble in his voice in the long held notes, and you can feel a little nervousness about playing live on air at the radio station (hat tip to WNRN).
I was happy that night.
For me, this song is church. It is like a hymn. Like how I feel about Guster's "Hang On." Frank sang it that night and I could feel Counting Crows fans in the audience become Frank Fans.
Before he sang it, he said something along the lines of remembering we're all human, we're all made of the same things, we're all going through stuff, and to think before we treat someone badly.
I always try to do that, friends. You know me.
Another case in point: After the show, as we were walking around the casino, seeing all kinds of people, just having fun. We saw bridal parties, and girls nights, and old couples. Black, white, Asian, so many people. Some amazingly well dressed and some not so much like Mr. Racismpants that I'd run into later.
I had a smile on my face, even though the music was too loud and wasn't my style, my mask was on and I was smiling. Beaming.
We were on line to get some halfway somewhat decent food from a BBQ place in the food court, and there was a woman who was there just waiting for french fries. She'd been waiting a long time. My food came, it had fries. So she asked the girl behind the counter (very nicely) when hers were going to come. There had been a mix up. they never cooked her fries. She was a little upset, so I offered her my fries right there.
"Can you give me that small take away container, and a fork, and we'll move my fries in there."
The girl behind the counter was stunned, the lady said "oh no no you don't have to do that! I'm sure it will work out here." The girl running the food line booked it out back, and the counter girl said "we get our fries from the Crab Cakes place because they have a fryer, I'm so sorry we made a mistake, I'm so sorry..."
I was still willing to give away my fries, they were piping hot, probably straight from the Crab Cake place... and the other girl came running back with a basket, over full, overflowing, with golden fries. She was apologizing, everyone was apologizing, and it was lovely. And there were french fries.
As we walked away with our food, the lady who finally got her fries said "that's the nicest thing I think anyone's offered to do for me in a long time."
"It's okay, really" I replied, I should save my carbs for beer, so. It wasn't the largest sacrifice I ever made. I'm really glad you got your fries in the end!" We parted ways smiling, and I got to the table where Doug had gone ahead of me to grab a seat. I didn't have to tell him the story, I didn't need an "attagirl! Aren't you sweet!" And he ate my fries for me.
So I was in a very good mood. I was living the Gospel of Be More Kind, the way I like to do.
And then all this happens with the guy in the elevator, and I'm mad now. Part of me said that I could have just said "oh no dude, that's not cool. Don't be like that." Part of me said I could have just said nothing, like Mike Birbiglia's famous bit about what he should have said.
It made me feel like I was unkind to someone who maybe needed some kindness. Would that have been a better witness for the Gospel of both Frank Turner and Jesus, when it comes down to it? Especially after Frank gave us the loving lesson, the "sermon" as it were on how we should treat others.
I don't know this guy. I don't know his life. I could have been kind while also letting him know that what he said was unacceptable.
And then another part of me is full of "oh, hell no, Christine. No." It had to be said. I had the opportunity. I took it. This guy has probably had through his whole life a pass on whatever he says or thinks. He's surrounded himself with hate. He sleeps with it and wears it, and expects that every other white person he encounters is on the same time.
In doing what I did, am I doing Be More Kind on behalf of other people who weren't there to receive my kindness as I read this man to filth?
And I probably didn't change how he thinks or feels about Black People. But I'm not taking shit like this anymore. And I don't think anyone should. And that in the end, does kindness.
This dumb experience also reminded me of two other times in the last couple years that I've stood up to others on behalf of someone who really couldn't at the time. Perhaps I'll dip into those stories soon.
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