PARDON ME!!!

realtalk Maam,” I said at the end of the counter of a busy Manhattan diner, as I was trying to get her to pass me the ketchup in front of her; to keep me from reaching over her food. As this was the condiment I chose to splather my hotcakes with, instead of the most commonly used condiment that was sitting right in front of me. Because, as an Afro-American in this somewhat upscale environment, I thought that it was important for me not to loose my identity in the shuffle of life. After growing up on pancakes and ketchup in Harlem… not by choice, but because my Dad was the superviser at xcaliber ketchup and it was more of a practical logic behind the decision to use it when getting it from free. That would manifest itself into my entire family, having an acquired taste for the condiment on everything… so there I was. Between a rock and a hard-faced, Caucasion Woman; whom had seemingly been ignoring my rather loud, pleas for the last five minutes. While concentrating on what appeared to be a bowl of Homonie , grits, laced with cheese; acting like she hadn’t eaten in a week. When I quickly grew tired of her lame gassed act, and decided to take the pro-active approach to solving this dilemma; by reaching over her food and grabbing the bottle.
However, not before one last PARDON ME… that seemed go over deaf ears, as she didn’t even bother to acknowlege me. After I’d worked all my life to put my self through school, and now be one of the head traders on wall street. Although, to say that I’d finally gotten a response was an understatement, as the Woman didn’t exactly grab her bag upon the counter… but stuck her hand deep off within it. Causing me to take a serious pause, and acknowledge what I perceived as racist behavior to be just such. As she was clearly discriminating against me, for what I presumed was obvious reasons. Prompting me to smile politely and sit back down… forgetting about the ketchup, and opting for the syrup while mumbling under my breath as I forced the unsettling combination down and chased it with a cup of coffee. Before paying the check ,and going outside to wait for the bus, when a minute later this bih would walk up and stand right beside me… like nothing happened.
Needless to say, I didn’t want to confront her, but rather to punch her, when someone came up on her left and began to sign to her.Causing the woman to turn her head in such a way, as to give me a birds-eye view of two rather large- audible aids, in both of her ears. That appeared to be some of the first made,as they were soo large that either her hearing was bionic or non- existent. Which made me ashamed of the way I acted as I now felt sorry for the Woman; whom seemed so defenseless. As the bus pulled up while her and her friend vigourously signed, and the passengers at the stop readied themselves to board. However, when I approached her from behind I would once again witness her hand slip into the depth of her purse, that was slung around her shoulder at that point. Which once again caused me to pause, and witness her spit what seemed to be the remnants of some chew upon my nunn bush shoes that I’d just had polished an hour earlier.
Nevertheless, it was no major. as one could easily rationalize the indescretion within the close prximety of soo many trying to board a bus. However, there was no rationalizing the look she gave me from her seat; to where I stood holding the rail… from my eyes, to my shoes. Meanwhile, tho it was apparent what time it was, I couldn’t help but think why it’s so eazy to appropriate blame. When there are those of you’re own race , that are a faar worse threat that most refuse to even acknowledge.
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