It has been a very interesting few days here.
From time to time in the past, I've had unpleasant experiences with "minorities" on the road, but it's always been on my own "turf." Not theirs.
I had to go to Chattanooga and I had a different experience there. I'm not particularly satisfied with the way it worked out, but thinking it over I don't see how I could have handled it differently. However, I am open to constructive criticism.
I had business out at the airport, and I figured as long as I was going there, I'd run by the big Hamilton Place Mall, and go to the bookstore.
To get there, I turned off the freeway, and then onto Gun Barrel Road. This is a relatively upscale part of the city, primarily commercial. Gun Barrel is five lanes, two going each way and a turn lane in the middle.
Got to a light. It was rush hour and traffic was bad. I had my windows down. The vehicle on my left had a number of black guys in it, mid twenties. All tricked out in their "bling" and bizarre but doubtless trendy outfits. They were playing what I presume was music, as loud as they could, with the bass maxed out. The side panels of my door were vibrating.
I looked around. All the other white drivers were starring fixedly ahead, and pointedly ignoring this. I decided "when in Rome..." and so I rolled up my windows to cut the noise.
I have a limited grasp of Ebonics, so I couldn't really make out the words of the song. I think it was in the niglish dialect, which I have no fluency in. Between pulsing drum thumps, I could discern someone screeching, and ever so often you could make out "HO!" or "MoFo!" , things like that. Not my kind of music but I guess it was nice of them to share with everybody within a one mile radius.
Unfortunately for me, it turns out if you roll up your window in these circumstances, you have "disrespected" the purveyors of black culture.
The "brudda" in the front passengers seat started cussing me out. It went something this. "Yu god sum tine to say, M**** F***? I come over der drag yo ass out de car and kick de s**t out yu!"
He got more worked up the more he jabbered.
I couldn't go anywhere. The light was red and I was blocked in. I had my Sig p226 under a Subway napkin on the front passengers seat, and uncharacteristically I had a round chambered, which is my usual procedure in a city. But what help was that?
I decided to just sit there and look at the guy and say nothing, which is what I did until the light changed and they drove triumphantly away, grotesque sounds still emanating from their "ride."
I guess if they had come out of the vehicle after me, I would have had to shoot them. But that would have been it for me. Chattanooga, like most cities in the south, has a black majority police force, and a black majority staffed legal system. I had no illusions about what would happen next. The "Black Lives Matter" crowd would have been down there in a second, Jesse and Al would be flying in, Obama would be saying "If I had a son he would be like Rufus Kuwazi Majumbo Tutsi Jackson", and I'd be gone.
So, I let one of the "Black Lives Matter" crowd verbally abuse me, sat there passively, and watched them all drive away smugly satisfied that they'd shown that old Cracka' how things are in America today.
I don't see anything else I could have done, but I still have very unpleasant feelings about this whole thing. I know what's wrong, but I don't know what to do about it.
|How did it come to this?|
“Kill the white people; we gonna make them hurt; kill the white
people; but buy my record first; ha, ha, ha"; "Kill d'White People";
--Apache, Apache Ain't Shit, Tommy Boy Music, Time Warner, USA.
|Prior Planning Prevents Poor Performance|