Black neighborhood bar visit.

So, the other day, after being at the student bar, which was pleasantly packed, I headed over to the black neighborhood bar to have a drink with my one (white) friend who hangs out there, only the place was dead when I got there.

"What's up with that?", when I asked the (black) bartender who usually works nights ("Ray").

"We waiting for you to come start the party," he was like.

Later, after my friend got there and we were talking -- before she got there, I got out and was reading a book I had checked out of the library on historical methodology -- I was telling her about krunk karaoke, and how me and the people I went with were the only non-(black) people in the entire place.

"Oh, like that never happens to us!", she was like.

Even later, after the pizza place next door closed down, this younger Mexican guy slunk in with a carry-out box and gave it to Ray. It was the leftover pizza, and there was like six slices in there, and since there were like six people in the bar, he let everyone have one -- I got pepperoni (sp.?), and my friend got sausage.