I was petrified.
Now, we all know I love a man in woman’s garb (hello, Drag Race). Rather, I was terrified by the hoards of Caucasians, smelling of booze and feeling really excited about being white. This, my friends, is when Caucasia is at its most fearful. As I weaved my way through the crowd, desperate to reach the subway station, my heart started to palpitate. There was no room to move. My purse—and my loins—were in grave danger of being snatched! I started to have a flashback to plantation days, when Massa would have me work during his big parties. Although I wasn’t allowed to look anyone in the eye, and my only job was to serve, after some mead and ale, those white men would ask me if I wanted to be serviced!! It’s dangerous for a young blacktress when Caucasia’s feeling frisky!!!
After a brief jaunt outside the office, I came back up and could not get down the street. As I took a circuitous route, I saw two girls who looked like they were Jersey Shore castoffs drinking “soda” out of a big gulp. One was screaming to the other:
“Rachel, where’s AAAAMy? Where’s AAAmy??”
Clearly, Amy’s somewhere turning 16 and pregnant. After all, we all learned from Britney Spears what happens If You Seek Amy!!!
As I made it to my office, my excitement for being black swelled. As I watched young girls become mothers, and grown men pee on the street to avoid the port-a-potty line, it felt nice to be young, gifted, and black.
My coworker, who just came back from being outside said:
“I just saw a drunk woman being carried by two friends, yelling to everyone she passed, ‘YOU’RE Retarded!’ And there were girls who were wearing t-shirts that, if I actually did what there shirts told me to do, I’d get arrested.”
I reminded him that the day would soon be over, and those girls would be back in geometry class tomorrow, tempting him no more.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day Everyone!!!
