Adventures from graduation
Saturday around 5 PM I drove from the hotel in Emeryville to a shopping center in Oakland where the Internet told me I'd find a branch of my bank so I could get some cash. I wound my way through Oakland, and through some far from affluent neighborhoods.
I did my banking, and hit the Safeway to find a "thank you" card for my friends who were going to attend my graduation the next day. I tossed my change in the Salvation Army bucket with the bell ringer as I left the store.
As I back out of the parking space and begin to pull away, there's a knock on the window.
I look out to see a 50-something black dude. I roll down the window.
Black dude: You ain't prejudiced, are ya?
Me: Um, No (The surprise on my face wasn't about the color, just the knock)
Black dude: Oh, good, cuz I need some help. I'm a black guy in a white neighborhood and my car broke down and I'm trying to get someone to help but no one will help me.
Me: (This neighborhood sure seemed pretty black to me. I was one of three white people in the grocery store. But hey, I've got some time.) What do you need help with?
Black dude: I'm trying to get to the hospital, cuz they're gonna do a graft (pulls back a bandage on his right hand to reveal a 2" diameter section on his wrist with no skin, just pink flesh) and I have a flat, but I already used they spare, and these guys won't give me a break and I need $30 for the rim and $20 for the tire and I called my brother in law and he's gonna meet me and if I can give you my jacket or my cell phone or something I just need some help.
Me: Where's the car at?
Black dude: It's just three blocks from here and he's gonna meet me at the Wendy's will you help me out?
Me: Ok.
Black dude (jumping into the car): Oh thank you! You restore my faith in my white brothers (giving me a left armed half hug, during which I detect the lovely fragrance that can only emanate from a serious alcoholic)
Me: (realizing that this is, in fact, a total BS scam) Ok, so u need to get to the hospital?
Black dude: No no, see my brother in law is gonna meet me at the Wendy's. So if I can give you my jacket or my cell phone or something and we can exchange information and I can get the money for the tire and then get it back to you.
Me (following his directions to the Wendy's, which is just across the street): So where's the car at? You said it was just three blocks from here.
Black dude (with forced chuckle): Yeah, but I'm gonna meet my brother in law at the Wendy's, see, so just pull in here.
Me: Ok, I'm gonna level with you. A lot of this just isn't adding up. So if you can show me where the car's at, this is all going to seem a lot more credible.
Black dude: (Opens the door and gets out of the car in disgust).
Things I ponder: Was he trying to play "the card" to work "white guilt"? Did he think I wouldn't get it? Would I have let it go as far as it did if he were a different color? Further? Did he see me drop the change in the bucket and figure I was a softie? Am I lucky to be alive? Should I become less open?
I do feel bad for the guy. Willing to "sell" his jacket for $20, missing hunks of skin from what I can only assume is rather harsh living. That kind of desperation is sad. But I'm not gonna give him $20 if he's just going to kill himself with it. Addiction is insidious and sad.
I did my banking, and hit the Safeway to find a "thank you" card for my friends who were going to attend my graduation the next day. I tossed my change in the Salvation Army bucket with the bell ringer as I left the store.
As I back out of the parking space and begin to pull away, there's a knock on the window.
I look out to see a 50-something black dude. I roll down the window.
Black dude: You ain't prejudiced, are ya?
Me: Um, No (The surprise on my face wasn't about the color, just the knock)
Black dude: Oh, good, cuz I need some help. I'm a black guy in a white neighborhood and my car broke down and I'm trying to get someone to help but no one will help me.
Me: (This neighborhood sure seemed pretty black to me. I was one of three white people in the grocery store. But hey, I've got some time.) What do you need help with?
Black dude: I'm trying to get to the hospital, cuz they're gonna do a graft (pulls back a bandage on his right hand to reveal a 2" diameter section on his wrist with no skin, just pink flesh) and I have a flat, but I already used they spare, and these guys won't give me a break and I need $30 for the rim and $20 for the tire and I called my brother in law and he's gonna meet me and if I can give you my jacket or my cell phone or something I just need some help.
Me: Where's the car at?
Black dude: It's just three blocks from here and he's gonna meet me at the Wendy's will you help me out?
Me: Ok.
Black dude (jumping into the car): Oh thank you! You restore my faith in my white brothers (giving me a left armed half hug, during which I detect the lovely fragrance that can only emanate from a serious alcoholic)
Me: (realizing that this is, in fact, a total BS scam) Ok, so u need to get to the hospital?
Black dude: No no, see my brother in law is gonna meet me at the Wendy's. So if I can give you my jacket or my cell phone or something and we can exchange information and I can get the money for the tire and then get it back to you.
Me (following his directions to the Wendy's, which is just across the street): So where's the car at? You said it was just three blocks from here.
Black dude (with forced chuckle): Yeah, but I'm gonna meet my brother in law at the Wendy's, see, so just pull in here.
Me: Ok, I'm gonna level with you. A lot of this just isn't adding up. So if you can show me where the car's at, this is all going to seem a lot more credible.
Black dude: (Opens the door and gets out of the car in disgust).
Things I ponder: Was he trying to play "the card" to work "white guilt"? Did he think I wouldn't get it? Would I have let it go as far as it did if he were a different color? Further? Did he see me drop the change in the bucket and figure I was a softie? Am I lucky to be alive? Should I become less open?
I do feel bad for the guy. Willing to "sell" his jacket for $20, missing hunks of skin from what I can only assume is rather harsh living. That kind of desperation is sad. But I'm not gonna give him $20 if he's just going to kill himself with it. Addiction is insidious and sad.
posted by Kenneth at 10:13 AM
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