A few
weekends I volunteered a conference on local youth homelessness, since I feel
strongly that the issue should be addressed more than it currently is.
The
volunteer coordinator was this kind (middle-aged) (black) lesbian, and after
lunch hour as we were breaking down tables in the cafeteria in the university
building where the conference was held, I was like, “Now this is a flashback, I
haven’t done this shit since I was in Catholic school.”
Then, I
added, “You see, I really am a nice Catholic boy at heart.”
Then, at the
end of the day, after me and everyone was cleaning out rooms and re-arranging
chairs and taking things out to cars, I started saying bye to everyone, but a
few people broke off to go take care of one more thing that they had forgotten
about.
“Have a
good night!”, I yelled down the hallway after them.
They
didn’t hear, though, so I yelled out “Have a good night!” down the hallway one
more time, but they still didn’t hear.
“Well,”
I was like, to the remaining people, “At least you guys can testify that I
wasn’t being rude.”
“Of
course not!”, the (middle-aged) (black) lesbian was like. “You’re a good Catholic boy!”
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