When I was stationed at the Ordnance Officer Basic Course at Aberdeen Proving Ground, Maryland, I didn’t do a lot of socializing, but occasionally my wife and I did go out for a dinner meal or two. Occasionally, we traveled into Baltimore to visit a couple of friends of ours that we had met while we were stationed at Fort Ord, California. The husband of the couple was in the Navy and stationed at Fort Meade, Maryland, while his wife was a homemaker like mine. My friend cut hair on the weekends as a part-time job to supplement his income. I think he was going to take up the barbering business, when he retired from the Navy because his father had a barbershop in Towson, Maryland. It made sense that he would take over the family business when he retired from the Navy. He sure did like cutting hair, and even seemed to be a natural. Some people just seem naturally suited to certain jobs or occupations, and my friend looked like a natural born barber. But I digress. At other times, my wife and I would just go out to dinner by ourselves, usually to restaurants either at the Inner Harbor in Baltimore or in Edgewood, Maryland. One thing that I always noticed but never paid a lot of attention to was that my wife and I usually generally always got seated in the back near the kitchen. Not all the way in the back, right next to the door to the kitchen, but pretty damn close. The only further back you could go would be the tables that were close to the toilet doors. We never actually got seated at any of those tables, so I never really paid any attention to those tables. Maybe I should have. But the only time I can think of where being seated right next to the toilet would be advantageous is when you’re in a bar and you’re doing some serious drinking. Let’s say that you’re really tying one on. Tying one on just means that you’re getting really drunk. Or, as coneheads would say, “You’re drinking mass quantities of a liquid substance called beer.” Here is why I say that my wife and I usually got seated in the rear of the restaurant. One time, I believe it was for Mother’s Day, I made a reservation and took my wife to a restaurant over in Edgewood, Maryland. When we got seated, it was in the back near the kitchen. If it had been any further back, we would have complained. That particular night, another ‘mixed’ couple came into the restaurant. The difference was that I knew half of this inter-racial couple. The lady was a Lieutenant in my basic course at Aberdeen Proving Ground. She was with her fiancé. I had never met her fiancé; I had only heard her speak of him. When they were brought in, they were seated further back next to the kitchen. I saw that and said, “What the hell kind of bullshit is that? There’s a table right next to us.” I must’ve said that a little too loud because they heard me. She waved and then they came over. She introduced her fiancé after which I introduced my wife. She asked, “Hey Wright, what’s up?” I replied, “What’s up, Cheryl.” “Why are you here?” “To watch a movie.” “Watch a movie?” “Well, to eat and to celebrate Mother’s Day. Why are you here?” “To catch a night out before my man leaves tomorrow.” “Cool. So, why didn’t you pitch a fit about where they sat you?” “Come on now. Get real.” “Look, all I’m saying is, we would’ve pitched a fit if we had been put any further back. So, why didn’t you?” “You do know why we’re back here right?” “Well, I wondered about that. I thought maybe it’s because all of their two-person tables are at the back.” “Come on, Wright. Look around.” “Oh shit. They got two-person tables all over the place.” “No shit. They got these two-person tables for black folks and inter-racial couples.” “You can’t be serious.” “Wright, as sure as I’m standing here, I am telling you that’s why they have these tables. What state are we in?” “We’re in Maryland?” “Exactly. It was a slave state.” “But when I go into Baltimore, I don’t have this kind of problem.” “Baltimore has always been a cosmopolitan city. But not so much here. Here, they expect black to be with black, white to be with white, and in your case, Asian to be with Asian. No mix-and-match. We are mix-and-match.” “You can’t be serious.” “I’m as serious as a heart attack. If I’m lying, I’m dying.” “Wow. That is some heavy shit. I didn’t know that people could be this snooty.” “Oh, it gets worse. Go into the deep South and be a white-black inter-racial couple. I’m not sure about a white-Asian couple. I’ve never really paid any attention to that.” “So, you’re saying that I could be treated pretty much the same way in the deep South like say in Virginia or Georgia or someplace like that?” “Well, you can always hope for the best, but I think yes. You’ve just got to learn to be a little bit less colorblind.” “I guess so. And here I thought every time you threw my books on the floor in class, you were doing it just to piss me off.” Having that conversation in that restaurant on that Mother’s Day really opened my eyes. I started to see more and more how the world really operated around me. I had started to see the division when I was stationed in Georgia during my first tour in the Army, but the reality was coming into focus much more clearly now. The back-door seats really were reserved for a special class of people. I just never expected to be in that special class and living in a world full of exercises in futility.
by 
by 