Oh yeah, another fun day at the store. I was only going for two things, roast beef and ice cream. Ice cream is a staple in this house.
I go in, I’m in the wheelchair rolling my way to the deli for roast beef. I’m in front of the deli and this woman walked up to me and began running her fingers through my hair! She lifted the sacred dreadlocks and told me they’re pretty. I whipped around and said, don’t touch my hair…something like that. She asked about the beads. Are they wood? I said, yes. At that point I decided not to make a huge deal of it. It’s icky but not life stopping traumatic. I was doing quite well with her line of questioning but when she started to say, “Are they……” I bent my neck just a little bit and had this look on my face like, I hope you aren’t about to ask me if my hair is real.” She turned and walked away. lol. I guess she knew when to take her leave. Indiana is a stand your ground state. I should have run her down with the wheelchair and claimed self defense…..I am totally kidding about running people down. That disclaimer has to be said so that everyone feels safe. lol.
I am not a rolling petting zoo.
So the lady behind the deli is piling up my roast beef that I can all but taste. For some reason she felt comfortable asking me why I’m in the chair. People do that all the time. What happened to you, she said. Are you okay? I said yes, I’m okay. I gave no indication I wanted to hold a conversation but that didn’t stop her from telling me about her back pain, sciatic pain, osteoporosis and upcoming hysterectomy. So, she kept talking to me until I said for the third time, I really need to go. She then handed me the roast beef and I wheeled to the check out.
Kroger Krazie just got crazier! The cashier complimented me. I said thank you. She asked my age. I said I turned 45 a few days ago. She said, you know, you guys have really good …..genes…… I said, are you telling me that I don’t look 45 because “black don’t crack”. She said, I was trying to say that, yes. *the rest of this conversation on race is at the end.* She began complimenting and ‘talking to me’. I figured, whatever. I’m about to go home, whatever. She then went into how age doesn’t matter. She’s 24, me being 45 doesn’t matter to her. She then took my receipt, wrote her name and number on it and said, “Give me a call.”
I have strict dating rules. There are three places you never try to meet someone. Never date anyone you met at Walmart, the county lock up, or a psych ward. These are simple to follow rules of life. Follow that advice!!!
Back to the race stuff ….. She said, I was trying to say that but these days you don’t know what to say or what not to say. You guys are getting shot all the time. I said I know, I’ve never been more aware of being black in my life than in the last two years. Now when I walk outside I need to remember that I’m black. Always be incog-negro. Be as inconspicuous as possible, get in, get out, go home.
I just wanted roast beef and ice cream. Another simple transaction made complex but this one a kid hit on a middle aged woman and I got to use the word incog-negro. Which you have to admit is hilarious.
I will write soon about the dental surgery that didn’t happen. I have to go to the hospital for it. I’ll write soon. As for now, I have a kitty who doesn’t feel too good so I’m going to love on her and have some tea. I got it from the dental office. Hibiscus and Cinnamon. It sounded interesting.