“I got stomped like a narc at a biker rally.” – Dennis Miller, Live from Washington

Is it just me, or has anyone noticed a difference in racial relations in this country lately?

Whether or not you like/agree with Barack Obama… it seems to me that his election alone has bridged another gap in how people of different races act and feel around each other. I’ve seen a sense of pride with many people since his historic win, and I think that this part of his election is a great thing. It shows that we’ve made a big step as a country in the right direction.

In my case, I can honestly say that I’ve never been someone to be prejudiced against any race. I am a city kid who was raised by a city kid. My mother raised me not to look at any person differently than another. (Well, accept scumbag people… she had a different idea of how to deal with them). I’m thankful that the only people that I grew up to fear was the people that thought it was a good idea for me to end up in a gym locker.

(Sidebar: It’s too bad I didn’t take my Nana’s advice. She showed me how to do a “Roxbury Uppercut”. This was the act of kneeing someone in the balls. Thank you, Nana.)

I always get a kick out of Stephen Colbert saying that he “doesn’t see race”. Obviously, he’s taking a shot at people who say this, and this isn’t possible. You always “see” race… but the question is how do you VIEW someone?

I got a job in Boston when I was 18 and I worked with people from all over the world. For me, it was a great introduction to understanding people better. Even though I’d met people who spoke many different languages and their skin was every shade of color from Pomeroy to Darth Vader, I had more in common with a lot of them than I’d imagined. When you have the fortune to be able to be that close with someone on a day-to-day basis, their color/background really starts to disappear. They just become a brother/sister to you. I guess working there was the closest thing I had to joining the military. People are just people, and living with them teaches you that.

After a while we would all hang out together regularly. We played basketball more than anything. Although I was a passable player in my neighborhood, I was the weakest link playing in urban settings with these guys. As a matter of fact, I remember one time we only had 9 people to play. I ended up on the team with 5, being the last picked. (Just like junior high all over again). Well, the captain was making defensive assignments for his team, and at the end said, “Just let Jazzy run around”.

(Sidebar 2: My nickname then was Jazzy Jeff).

But I got a kick out of the fact that they determined that I didn’t need to be defended. Just let me “run around”. Hilarious.

All of this reminds me of a story that I file under “Dumbest Things That I’ve Ever Done”. Needless to say, that folder is pretty friggin big by now. It’s hard to recall all of the times I made a fool out of myself.

My boss’ wife was having a surprise birthday party for him and asked me to attend. I was honored that I was invited and really wanted to go. I didn’t have a car because I didn’t get my license until I was 26. (Another story). I asked my cousin to come with and we took the train in to the city and walked the rest of the way. The house was on the Dorchester/Roxbury line, which was considered a tough part of Boston at the time. (Hence, nana’s ‘Roxbury Uppercut’).

When we arrived, it was easy to see that we were the only white guys at the party. There was one Mexican kid too, if memory serves. In a situation like that, you can start to understand what it must be like to be the only black person at an all-white party. My wife experienced this as well when she lived in Japan. It gives you perspective.

Now, I knew a lot of the people there. And we had a rapport from working/hanging together all of the time. It wasn’t uncommon to even make race jokes to eachother. For instance, I’d be asked to go out to play basketball, and I’d reply with something like “Oh, I can’t make it… I have that White Supremacy meeting tonight…”. And they would take similar pokes at me. It was the relationship that we had. However, not EVERYONE at the party knew of this, natch. So I probably should not have done the following act.

This African-American guy comes in mid-party. I think he was my friend’s brother-in-law. He was a tough looking guy. He had a mean face and was wearing one of those Jim Brown African leopard skin pillbox hats. I don’t know his real name, but he went by the nickname “The Count”. I know this, because he’d almost throw his hand at you and ANNOUNCE it with each handshake. Kind of like this:

“COUNT!”

“COUNT!”

And then, he came to me…..

“COUNT!”

That’s when I thought I’d be funny and do this….

“1..2..3..4..5..6..7..8..9….”

At first I thought I made a good funny….

But it didn’t take too much longer to realize the faux pas that I’d just made, and so began the awkward moment….

What an idiot.

Have you ever done anything that stupid? I thought I was going to be fucking keelhauled. I was petrified!

Lucky for me, my pals jumped in to save me with the other partygoers to explain that I wasn’t a raging bigot.

And as the party wore on, people started to realize that I was just a jokester and not as bad as the form I’d shown earlier. Wow, I learned my lesson.

I think that the best example that night of myself demonstrating that I wasn’t a racist was when I asked out this girl I’d met at the party. She kind of looked like Downtown Julie Brown:

I was crushing on her all night. After I shared my affection to her, it turned out that she wanted to have NOTHING to do with me. It was JUST like the many white girls that I’d expressed interest in those days who also wanted nothing to do with me.

See? We’re truly equal after all.