Monday, July 03, 2006

Racial profiling at the Dude Ranch

Well, Wifey's official "Weeklong Birthday Celebration EXTRAVAGANZA" is coming to a close. Wednesday night we got a last minute invite to see the sequel of Pirates of the Caribbean. It is DAMN good. If'n you liked the first one, you will love this one. It is a little long (2+ hours) but it keeps you in the seat. Also, in case you didn't know that there was an extra bit at the end of the credits of the first movie (there is), there is also one at the end of this movie. The credits feel like they take as long as the movie, but it is a damn funny bit. Stick around through the never-ending credits and you will get a treat. Thursday we signed off on the re-fi of the house, so that day was pretty much shot. Friday I worked a double. During these few days, Wifey and Momm-o-in-law continued their tradition (pretty recent, if you consider some of the source material) of watching all of the Star Wars movies (yup, all 6) while eating crabs. Oh yeah, and playing the Star Wars Drinking Game (patent pending). I do not really know the rules, because every time I came home to a drunken wife covered in Old Bay and pork rinds (oh yeah, they have those too. Because there was an off chance that the meal could have been construed as "healthy" in some bizarre way, and you can't have that). They actually started Tuesday night, and continued into Wednesday until I came home from work. I believe there was more on Friday. I KNOW there was more drinking.

Saturday brought the HOLY CRAP SHE MADE IT TO 30 party. It went well. Pops gave me the grill he has had collecting debris for the last 2 years. It was rather interesting trying to clean that puppy out, but we got it done. Some chicken, some burgers and dogs, and after quite a bit of drinking, Larry the Upstairs Neighbor and I tried to grill bacon. Everything went well until we flipped it, and the bacon grease started making its way to the open flame. To put it mildly, after we turned the gas off, it still flamed for a good 5-10 minutes before finally dying out. And the bacon (which we were trying to cook on foil on the grill) looked to the world like ground zero of an atomic blast had permanently cast their ashes on the side of a wall. If you ever saw the filmstrip in school, you know exactly what I mean.

Now we come to Sunday. I took Wifey to go horseback riding yesterday afternoon, because she loves to do it and hadn't been in years. Well, I had dressed as if I was going to join her on the trail, and was prepared to do so, even though I had never been on a horse before. But it seems there are weight restrictions, and the first word in my name ain't "Big" fer nuthin. So I sent her off and prepared to run an errand or two whilst she rode the trails. As I was standing there watching her ride off, a family that had reservations for the next hour came up. They were there early and seemed pretty excited to be going horseback riding. It must be said at this time that the family was (and I can only assume still is) black. And to further set the picture for you, I was wearing blue jeans, tennis shoes, a "Big Daddy" T-shirt (no surprise there to anyone who knows me), and a "Kwik-E-Mart" baseball cap. It is pretty obvious that I am not a ranch-hand. But the entire family immediately came to me telling me they were ready to ride and asking me questions on horse riding protocol and procedure. After getting them to calm down a little, I informed them that I had sent my wife off on a birthday trail ride, and I was just as clueless as to what they should do and whom they should ask as they were. The entire family seemed genuinely upset that I wasn't a cowboy. I am not sure, but I might have ruined their entire trip by not rustlin' up some dogies for them. But as I walked away to my truck (SUV, not F-150), I started to giggle, because I am fairly certain that the only reason they could have figured to come and ask me the questions they were asking me is if they assumed that I worked there, and since my attire was hardly worthy of being in a video on CMT, it leads me to believe that they thought I must work there because I am white. I was PROFILED, and I was found wanting. And that hurts as much as it makes me chortle.

Not really. I am not bothered by it, but it still amuses the hell out of me.



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