Just a quick bite to eat

Growing up, I lived in a place where everyone was different. Different races, religions, sexual preferences...being different was in. It was even something of a trend.

But I learned something. A person is the sum of many things, race, religion, sex, but the most important quality each individual has is character. And character is all that really matters.

At lunch this afternoon my character was called into question and I didn't like it.

Around 2 p.m. the Cheescake Factory at the mall was packed. My friend and I got one of those silly pager things and waited around, and the 20 minute wait slowly became 47 minutes. It was a sunny afternoon and we didn't mind waiting. We were busy talking about the movie "Ray," which we just finished watching. As we discussed how awful it must be to lose a child, the pager went off and we were whisked to a table inside.

And that is precisely when things went downhill.

We ordered drinks and debated on an appetizer as the hostess stopped with three women in the isle between our table and the booth across from us. The chatter hushed as the women began arguing with the hostess about their seating. It was apparent they wanted a booth, but had not specifically requested one. The hostess explained that the wait would be longer for a booth, but that she could accommodate their request. The women loudly complained and this continued for the next few minutes as they berated the bewildered hostess.

At this point my dining companion put down his menu.

"Could you take this discussion elsewhere, we're trying to enjoy a quiet lunch," he said.

The people eating across the isle from us nodded. Their daughter clapped.

"Excuse me," came the sarcastic reply of one of the women.

The women then stared at us, pointing and jeering. My companion again put down his menu, and angrily asked, "What are you staring at?"

To which they made a fairly rude comment.

"Why don't you just leave, go."

At this they became incensed.

"This is a race thing. You're prejudice, you wouldn't be saying this to a white person," was the reply.

"No," my companion said, "this is a noise thing."

They threatened to call the police and went outside.

Our waitress brought our drinks and informed us the police were on their way.

Within minutes an officer approached our table and demanded that we step outside. By now everyone was eyeballing our table and watched as the officer paraded us through the restaurant.

We gave them our driver's licenses, as per their request. We explained that all we had done was ask the women to take their argument elsewhere. We told them that at no time did we make any racially motivated remarks. We never even got up from our table. They treated us like criminals.

One officer said something to the effect of, you white supremacists can say whatever you want because of the 1st amendment, but that doesn't make it right.

We stood outside trying to understand how something as simple as asking someone to stop fighting in front of our table had snowballed into a racial attack.

The officer then explained that the "victim" had requested a copy of this disturbance report, which contains our respective addresses and telephone numbers. I explained to the officer that I did not want my personal information released and asked that this private information be blacked out of the report. The officer told me, in no uncertain terms, that it was now a matter of public record.

The people sitting in the booth across the isle told the police that the only racial comments came from the women who started the argument. The hostess and restaurant manager explained the women were mistreating the hostess and instigated the argument.

Afterwards we sat in silence trying to finish our meal quickly. A waiter stopped at our table and said he saw the whole thing and it was pretty crappy. "But that's a nigger for you."

The people across the isle from us expressed their sympathy. It's those kind of people, they said.

And I'm left wondering, who was the real victim here?

We left knowing that we ran into some crappy people, but it had nothing to do with their color and everything to do with their attitude. It's the other people in the restaurant who worry me, the ones who will go to work tomorrow and tell the story. The ones who will say that some black women harassed this poor white couple and made some bogus police report. It's their buddies who will tell the story until all that's left is black and white.

Now it is a race thing, and I couldn't be sorrier.