4 years ago
On Friday, Bex, Laura and I went to the Fox and Fiddle Mansion. I had never been there and I just assumed that it was a pub, which I was excited about. I love the relaxed atmosphere of a pub. So we get there and realize that the Fox and Fiddle Mansion suddenly turns into a club on a Friday night, but we stay because we're there for our other friend's birthday. Unfortunately, we had to wait in line to get in.
Every situation that involves a line-up will most likely involve line-cutters- one of my biggest pet-peeves. And of course, this line-up situation was no different. We had been waiting for maybe 15 minutes when three huge black guys kind of cut in front of us. Now, they weren't actually in front of us yet, but we could tell that they were definitely going to attempt to cut in. It wasn't until a couple more of their buddies showed up that they cut right in front of us to welcome their new friends. In all honesty, I was pissed.
Bex, Laura, and I contemplated confronting them, but we all chickened out. There were now five huge black guys in front of us - three little white girls. What could we do really? A few times I found myself almost saying something to them, but in the last second, changed my mind. I was honestly afraid that they would hurt me in some way and even considered them having a gun on them. I actually felt ashamed for thinking that.
Why was it that I thought they could potentially have a weapon? Because they're guys? Because they're big? Or because they're black? If they had looked like a lot of the other guys lining up that night: skinny white "clubber" guys, I probably wouldn't have had as much of a problem getting the courage to confront them about cutting in front of us. But because of preconceived ideas and stereotypes, I thought these guys had weapons because they were black. I really wish that wasn't the way my thought-process runs. I wish I could have just tapped those guys on the shoulder and tell them to mosey on down to the end of the line, but I couldn't because of my fear based on stereotypes.
To make this story slighly less unfortunate, I eventually got back in front of the guys by slowly squeezing my way back in as the line moved forward. In fact, they never confronted me for cutting back in front of them. Maybe they thought I was carrying a gun...