Trevor and I went out for Ethiopian food around the corner from our apartment this evening. Halfway through a carafe of honey wine we starting thinking about how odd it sometimes is for country bumpkins like us to be living in the Bay Area. I mean, it's hilarious to think about where we grew up and juxtapose that with where we're living now.
There was one guy sitting next to us with the white man fake dreadlock snarl on top of his head with scarves tied around it, and he was wearing a white dishdasha -- very Rudolph Valentino Sheik does Berkeley. Not very strange, right? But in our hometown, that guy wouldn't make it down the main street on a Friday night without a beer bottle getting thrown at him. And Trevor and I were laughing about how we just noticed when we left that we were the only folks in the restaurant who were not black. This fact alone would probably have driven Trevor's brother-in-law to unload a barrage of pepper spray just to make his way out of the restaurant, were he dining with us. Not that this would ever happen. This brother-in-law once visited us and said there was no way he was staying in Oakland after dark, ostensibly because of black folk. Surprise -- he's a jackass.
Incidentally, today I was in Berkeley Bowl, reading a magazine while waiting in the impossibly long lines to get out, when I noticed a Grizzly Adams bearded man in a purple tye dye mumu unloading his cart in the line next to me, and a beautiful transvestite in too much makeup and too short skirt in front of me in line (and why there isn't some school someone can open to remedy the hooker look for newly out trannies, I don't know). Again, who cares, but began thinking about the hilarity of this being transported to my hometown.
Not that everyone in my hometown is a racist, homophobic, redneck creep. But I think my hometown's got more than it's fair share.
Like everyone, I can't claim to be free of all prejudices, but damn, tonight I was reminded of why I moved to the Bay Area. You can truly do whatever the fuck you want in this grand ol' melting pot.
There was one guy sitting next to us with the white man fake dreadlock snarl on top of his head with scarves tied around it, and he was wearing a white dishdasha -- very Rudolph Valentino Sheik does Berkeley. Not very strange, right? But in our hometown, that guy wouldn't make it down the main street on a Friday night without a beer bottle getting thrown at him. And Trevor and I were laughing about how we just noticed when we left that we were the only folks in the restaurant who were not black. This fact alone would probably have driven Trevor's brother-in-law to unload a barrage of pepper spray just to make his way out of the restaurant, were he dining with us. Not that this would ever happen. This brother-in-law once visited us and said there was no way he was staying in Oakland after dark, ostensibly because of black folk. Surprise -- he's a jackass.
Incidentally, today I was in Berkeley Bowl, reading a magazine while waiting in the impossibly long lines to get out, when I noticed a Grizzly Adams bearded man in a purple tye dye mumu unloading his cart in the line next to me, and a beautiful transvestite in too much makeup and too short skirt in front of me in line (and why there isn't some school someone can open to remedy the hooker look for newly out trannies, I don't know). Again, who cares, but began thinking about the hilarity of this being transported to my hometown.
Not that everyone in my hometown is a racist, homophobic, redneck creep. But I think my hometown's got more than it's fair share.
Like everyone, I can't claim to be free of all prejudices, but damn, tonight I was reminded of why I moved to the Bay Area. You can truly do whatever the fuck you want in this grand ol' melting pot.
posted by Ammie at 12:20 AM
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