Walking through the mall on the way to the train I pass by a
young woman who left our firm a few months ago. A large black woman with
attitude. She pretends not to see me and avoids making eye contact.
That works for me. A middle-aged white man with attitudes of my
own.
Seeing the young woman reminds me of a breakfast KC
and I had years ago, before we had kids, at the Holiday Inn across the
expressway from LaGuardia. What took us to that place I can’t
remember.
The hotel was full of enormous black women, there for some kind
of convention. The older women cling to each other in the elevators, as
if being transported to their third-floor rooms is an adventure, and one not
without risk; as if the elevator doors might open onto the freeway, or the
middle of the forest, instead of the third floor. The younger women, the
really big ones, ask me in loud voices if I know where the pool is. When
I admit that I don’t, they mutter something I don't quite catch.
Two of the older women sit at the table next to us at breakfast
and spend a long time studying the menu. I listen with one ear as they
try to figure out how to eat for three dollars apiece. They each settle
on a side order of sausages, thinking toast must be included. They sass
the Japanese waitress when they learn they have to order the toast as an extra
side. When their food comes they spread grape jelly on the toast and roll
the sausage links up inside and eat it with their hands. They sass the
waitress some more when they ask for more jelly. And again when they ask
for ice water. As if the waitress has it in for them.
I can't help thinking that the slim Japanese waitress is
disgusted by all of this. I imagine she had a bowl of rice and a small
piece of broiled fish and tea for her breakfast, and has never sassed anyone in
her life.
I am embarrassed by all of this, including my own
reactions to it. We were a sad group there at the Holiday Inn. And
no better, twenty years later, walking through the Prudential Center Mall.
