Don't Always Think The Worst
Having her hair done at a West Hempstead, NY, beauty parlor, a
woman told a cautionary tale about racial prejudice. The story
deserves a wider audience.
On a recent weekend in Atlantic City the woman related, she won a
bucketful of quarters at a slot machine. She took a break from the
slots for dinner with her husband in the hotel dining room. But first
she would stash the quarters in her room. I'll be right back and we'll
go to eat," she told her husband and she carried the coin-laden
bucket to the elevator.
As she was about to walk into the elevator she noticed two men
already aboard. Both were black.
One of them was big... Very big... An intimidating figure. The woman
froze. Her first thought was: These two are going to rob me. Her next
thought was: Don't be a bigot, they look like perfectly nice
gentlemen, But racial stereotypes are powerful, and fear
immobilized her.
She stood and stared at the two men. She felt anxious, flustered,
ashamed. She hoped they didn't read her mind but knew they surely
did; her hesitation about joining them on the elevator was all too
obvious. Her face burned. She couldn't just stand there, so with a
mighty effort of will she picked up one foot and stepped forward and
followed with the other foot and was on the elevator.
Avoiding eye contact, she turned around stiffly and faced the
elevator doors as they closed. A second passed, and then another
second, and then another. The elevator didn't move. Panic
consumed her. My God, she thought, I'm trapped and about to be
robbed! Her heart plummeted. Perspiration poured from every pore.
Then one of the men said, "Hit the floor." Instinct told her: Do what
they tell you. The bucket of quarters flew upwards as she threw out
her arms and collapsed on the elevator carpet. A shower of coins
rained down on her. Take my money and spare me, she prayed.
More seconds passed. She heard one of the men say politely,
"Ma'am, if you'll just tell us what floor you're going to, we'll push the
button".
The one who said it had a little trouble getting the words out. He was
trying mightily to hold in a belly laugh. She lifted her head and looked
up at the two men. They reached down to help her up. Confused,
she struggled to her feet. "When I told my man here to hit the floor,"
one of the men, the average sized one, told her, "I meant that he
should hit the elevator button for our floor. I didn't mean for you to hit
the floor, ma'am. He spoke genially. He bit his lip. It was obvious he
was having a hard time not laughing. She thought: My God, what a
spectacle I've made of myself. She was too humiliated to speak.
She wanted to blurt out an apology, but words failed her. How do
you apologize to two perfectly respectable gentlemen for behaving
as though they were robbing you? She didn't know.
The three of them gathered up the strewn quarters and refilled her
bucket. When the elevator arrived at her floor they insisted on
walking her to her room. She seemed a little unsteady on her feet,
and they were afraid she might not make it down the corridor. At her
door they bid her good evening. As she slipped into her room she
could hear them laughing while they walked back to the elevator.
The woman brushed herself off. She pulled herself together and
went downstairs for dinner with her husband. The next morning
flowers were delivered to her room - a dozen roses. Attached to
each rose was a crisp one hundred dollar bill. A card said: "Thanks
for the best laugh we've had in years".
It was signed, Eddie Murphy and Bodyguard.
[ Author Unknown -- from 'keepAhead' ]
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