At the airport this morning I had to wait in line. I am not accustomed to this because of how much I travel. I am usually whisked to the front, politely acknowledged, frisked, and then sent off to never be spoken to again. It's not unlike a blind date in that sense. However, today, I had to stand in line.
Directly in front of me were two polite and soft spoken African American gentlemen. And directly behind me was a loud, brash, outspoken man with a big swastika tattooed on his forearm. Of course, in an attempt by the author to make the Nazi seem worthy of our compassion, the Nazi was trying to help his mother get her ticket changed for her flight. On the other hand, there was a lot of unpleasant tones of voice passing between mom and son. On a third hand, if I can be allowed a third hand, he had almost certainly parked his Harley in the garage and carried his mom and her luggage from the bike into the airport. And no, I am not making fun of Harleys, he just happened to have one and I could tell that because he said so.
NOW TO THE ACTION... I know you are waiting for that sudden fistfight that will break out, where the Nazis and the understandably upset African American gentlemen will start fighting one another, and I will stand between them yelling about racial reconciliation and how we're genetically nearly identical and how race is a construct created for ease of generalities in the scientific community. But instead, everyone stood in line, civil as mice, willing the airline employees to work harder, faster, and better so they could solve all our problems and take away our baggage and wish us a bon voyage.
There wasn't a fight or anything. C'mon, people, it's not a t.v. show, this is real life.