Bring Your Own Chicken

Okay:

So, I work at a level 5 special education school. The student body is one hundred percent black and brown. The staff is a bit more diverse, but not much. One of my white co-workers--a coffee-guzzling, marathon-running, cute little blond from Ohio--invited the entire staff to her birthday party on Friday.

The water cooler was all a-buzz: who's going to the white girl's party?

My homeboy Gill and I, adventurous progressive black men that we are, were among the first to RSVP. For the most part, we were looking for free beer and a good laugh. We got heavy doses of both.

Having worked in restaurants for five years, I had been to many a white party and felt confident that I knew what to expect. Gill, on the other hand, had had limited contact with white people up until this point and was curious to see how the other side lived. I appointed myself his unofficial tour guide and translator of all things white.

"They don't party like us," I warned. "You'll see."

The party was at her house in Arlington, minutes away from the Pentagon. She shares the house with two roommates. None of them are over thirty, but the place is clean and maturely furnished as if a real family lives there. Upon entering her living room I remember thinking to myself, "Wow, my apartment is a real shithole."

Of course there were dogs. One boxer and one Labrador. They both had beds in front of the television. "This," I whispered to Gill, "is definitely a white thing. We make our dogs sleep outside or in the basement."

Then we were led outside to the backyard, a spacious open field complete with tiki torches, a hammock, a swing and a stone fireplace. There was a table with an assortment of chips and dip, but no hot food. I remember being slightly annoyed by this. "What? No chicken?!" I thought, but was glad I hadn't said it out loud.

I wanted to though. For "some reason" I was famished.

There was a drinking game going on at another table. It combined beer shooters with some sort of physical challenge involving plastic cups. Even after our host explained the rules twice, the second time very slowly, for "some reason" I still did not understand and declined to participate. It just seemed like a very complicated way to get drunk. "Where is the keg?" I asked.

Gill and I found the keg and a private corner of the party from which to sit and observe. It was noted that we were the only black people there and that the white people there all looked healthy and happy. No one was overweight or belligerent. Everyone was getting along famously. If someone had been grossly obese, missing a limb or shouting obscenities, I think we would have felt a lot more at ease. But this group was so goddamned homogeneous and friendly. It was like an Abercrombie & Fitch photo shoot. Although there was a lot of shouting going on at the drinking game table, which we enjoyed.

Eventually some people people from work showed, but they were white too so they just kind of blended in.

"Hello, have we met?" I asked.

"We've been working together for two years."

"Oh," I said. "You look different without your glasses."

"I don't wear glasses."

"Yeah, well I'm kinda fucked up and there are just so many of you here."

There were some other interesting moments. At some point they played "Pour Some Sugar On Me" which I guess is to be expected. The police came responding to a report of loud music. There was a twenty minute conversation about eighties hair bands in which I learned that the drummer from Def Leopard lost his arm in a tour bus accident but continued to play with the band until they broke up. Other things happened, but, you know, the beer was free.

We made it back to Washington safely and the next morning the host sent me a text message thanking me. It said simply, "Thanks for coming" but I read in the subtext "Thanks for being the only black people at the job brave enough to come to my party."

I texted her back: "If u wnt mre blk ppl 2 cme nxt tme hav chkn."

Thanks for reading.

Tip of the day: Do not wear condoms made in China. Apparently, they have been using lead-based spermicidal lubricant.

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