A (black) woman story.

On my one day trip back home to teach my class, I ran into a lot of people...

For example, when I was walking to a bank branch, I ran into the (black) artist friend of my one hippie friend from Michigan, and he was telling me how the previous day at this one festival he has a booth at these high winds came in, and as he was breaking down his tent so that it wouldn't get blown away, a tent that got picked up by the high winds (one of two!) fell on him from high up and knocked him out for a second, and destroyed his booth to the point where the festival organizers loaned him one for the weekend.

He also was telling me how his one friend was taking her 5 year-old daughter to the doctor, and as they were walking along and holding hands, the little girl actually got picked up off the ground as if she'd be blown away.

Anyhow, when I was in the train station killing time before my train left so I could head back to the Latin program, I stopped through a store in the station to get a little something to eat since I was hungry, and so I got me a bag of crackerjack (not a box, they didn't have one, it was like a small bag of chips-type bag).

"How you doing?", I asked the slightly older and on the thin side (black) woman cashier.

"Good," she was like, "How are you?"

"Better after I tear into this crackerjack," I was like. "For the life of me, I am hungry!"

At that, she smiled and laughed, and I realized that I don't have the same rapport with (black) women in Milwaukee, though I do try.