Tonight, after a wonderful feature, a man came up to the bar to order a drink, as one does.
Dude: "I think I'm in the mood for a vodka drink."
Me: "How about a screwdriver?"
Dude: "I don't like orange juice."
Me: "Ok. Cranberry juice?"
Will: "Make him a madras!"
Me: "That still has orange juice in it." (Bobby had not heard about the orange juice aversion)
Dude: "Cranberry is ok."
Me: "Got it. One Cape Codder, named after my cultural homeland."
Dude: "Oh, you're from Cape Cod?"
Dude: "I heard it's racist there."
And here, I could have perhaps mentioned that it's racist everywhere, so of course it's also racist there, but instead I said "Well, when I was growing up, it wasn't incredibly racist because there was almost no diversity." And here I could have better explained that I meant it wasn't *outwardly* racist because racism manifests itself differently when everyone in a particular place or group identifies as the same race. "I did research for a poem about ten years ago, and it's something ridiculous, like, 99% of the town I grew up in was white. That's just my town, though. Barnstable was more diverse both culturally and class-wise. Anyway, uhm, I don't know how racist it is there now."
Dude: "Well, I wouldn't like to go there."
Me: "That's fair. I left there about twenty years ago."
Dude: "Plus, I hear there are a lot of gay dudes there." And he made a face.
And I made a face that was completely unlike his face.