![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Egads! Update for...*wince*...Wednesday, September 21.
So started my extreme sleeping. I worked, then crashed out in the early afternoon and slept for like...fourteen hours. I don't feel ill, I feel fine. I just slept a lot, and lost the whole day. I didn't do anything.
When I did get up late in the night, I took myself out for some real food (have none at home). I went into the Harbor House, which is the local all-night diner, and was at one of four occupied tables in the restaurant. I brought Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince along to read for entertainment, but it turned out the restaurant was going to provide me with some, in the form of one of the guests.
The lady was sitting in a booth, facing me, about three tables away. She had a gentleman, back to me, sitting with her. She was casually loud and distracting in a way that never fails to amuse me, but would have had![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bongirl5 rolling her eyes and cringing in horror.
This woman was 45 (so she declared aloud while hassling another guest), long blonde hair, slender, made-up, and with the kind of skin that has been in the sun since childhood. She was dressed in breezy, beach-style clothing, a real native Californian, for those who understand the type. She was also either drugged or drunk as hell, because she kept singing loudly along with the restaurant's music, swaying in her seat and trying to get her dining partner to sing with her. Also, there was a Mexican (that's important) guy sitting at the diner's bar with his back to her, just in front of her table. She got up and danced back and forth in front of her table, then started draping herself over the Mexican guy and trying to get him to sing and dance with her.
Seriously.
I was very careful to avoid eye contact, but even I did not go unnoticed. My salad was delivered and as I sprinkled pepper on it she kept encouraging - "More pepper! More pepper, girl! Yes, that's it! Take the top off! More pepper!"
The woman talked and talked and talked. She talked to the waitresses and night manager about how she wanted a job there, at the Harbor House, even though she sold cars and made a lot of money. She talked about how much she liked the various waitresses. She talked about what a great waitress she was and nagged the night manager about recommending her for hire. She talked about how much she liked the whole staff, and then, (perhaps because half the staff is), the topic changed to Mexicans. She talked about how she was planning to move to Portland, and what she would miss the most. The following made up of direct quotes of what she told the Latino night manager, cook, two waitresses and the poor customer she wouldn't stop harassing. I wrote it down:
"But you know what I'll miss more than anything? Mexicans. I love Mexican people. I love the culture. You're all so warm. I love my Mexican people, I love you all. Not that I'm saying I own you or anything. I don't own you but I love you. I've lived her all my life, I love them. All my boyfriends were Juan and Miguel and I loved their families. Your families are good, they have everybody live with them, grandma and mom and the kids, not like gringos, who put people in nursing homes. I really do, I love my Mexicans. I know, I know, you're looking at me like I'm just a stupid gringo talking to you, but I'm not, I love Mexicans. And I say I'm a gringo because I'm not an American, you all are. This was all Mexico. This all belongs to you. I'm the gringo living on your land. But I really love you, I'll miss you so much."
She went on and on and on about how her house is filled with Mexican stuff, how much she liked the food, how her friends in school were all Mexican, how she goes to Mexico all the time, and declared over and over her love for Mexicans.
Meanwhile, the Latino waiting staff (I mean I don't know that they were Mexican, some could have been from Central and South America, one should never assume) stood around her and looked embarrassed, and wouldn't say anything back to her. The night manager tried to direct her away from her speech by asking her what cities she'd visited in Mexico, but as soon as she finished telling him (Rosarito, which is only a few miles from the border), the woman went back onto her Mexican love fest. I mean, I was embarrassed - to attribute something positive to an entire race is just as racist as attributing something negative - but the wait staff's reactions ran from mortified to condescending.
Finally, the woman's partner had enough - he told her he was done, and going to walk home.
"Gary," she called as he got up. "Gary, don't go. Gary, come have a glass of wine with me, and talk to these people. Gary! GARY!" She bellowed past me at the door. "Gary, I'm leaving soon, you'll never see me again. GARY! YOU SPENT THE NIGHT IN MY BED, COME BACK HERE!"
I hadn't turned a page in my book for twenty minutes.
Gary came back, and they moved to the bar to consume more alcoholic beverages. The woman quieted down, but wouldn't stop touching the poor customer sitting next to her at the bar, and wouldn't stop praising how wonderful the Mexican people are. I went back to my book - she was still there, long after I left.
This post marks my three year anniversary on LJ - I'm certainly doing better than I was in the previous two years, but not as well as I was doing in my first post. Oh, well, better is better than nothing.
So started my extreme sleeping. I worked, then crashed out in the early afternoon and slept for like...fourteen hours. I don't feel ill, I feel fine. I just slept a lot, and lost the whole day. I didn't do anything.
When I did get up late in the night, I took myself out for some real food (have none at home). I went into the Harbor House, which is the local all-night diner, and was at one of four occupied tables in the restaurant. I brought Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince along to read for entertainment, but it turned out the restaurant was going to provide me with some, in the form of one of the guests.
The lady was sitting in a booth, facing me, about three tables away. She had a gentleman, back to me, sitting with her. She was casually loud and distracting in a way that never fails to amuse me, but would have had
bongirl5 rolling her eyes and cringing in horror. This woman was 45 (so she declared aloud while hassling another guest), long blonde hair, slender, made-up, and with the kind of skin that has been in the sun since childhood. She was dressed in breezy, beach-style clothing, a real native Californian, for those who understand the type. She was also either drugged or drunk as hell, because she kept singing loudly along with the restaurant's music, swaying in her seat and trying to get her dining partner to sing with her. Also, there was a Mexican (that's important) guy sitting at the diner's bar with his back to her, just in front of her table. She got up and danced back and forth in front of her table, then started draping herself over the Mexican guy and trying to get him to sing and dance with her.
Seriously.
I was very careful to avoid eye contact, but even I did not go unnoticed. My salad was delivered and as I sprinkled pepper on it she kept encouraging - "More pepper! More pepper, girl! Yes, that's it! Take the top off! More pepper!"
The woman talked and talked and talked. She talked to the waitresses and night manager about how she wanted a job there, at the Harbor House, even though she sold cars and made a lot of money. She talked about how much she liked the various waitresses. She talked about what a great waitress she was and nagged the night manager about recommending her for hire. She talked about how much she liked the whole staff, and then, (perhaps because half the staff is), the topic changed to Mexicans. She talked about how she was planning to move to Portland, and what she would miss the most. The following made up of direct quotes of what she told the Latino night manager, cook, two waitresses and the poor customer she wouldn't stop harassing. I wrote it down:
"But you know what I'll miss more than anything? Mexicans. I love Mexican people. I love the culture. You're all so warm. I love my Mexican people, I love you all. Not that I'm saying I own you or anything. I don't own you but I love you. I've lived her all my life, I love them. All my boyfriends were Juan and Miguel and I loved their families. Your families are good, they have everybody live with them, grandma and mom and the kids, not like gringos, who put people in nursing homes. I really do, I love my Mexicans. I know, I know, you're looking at me like I'm just a stupid gringo talking to you, but I'm not, I love Mexicans. And I say I'm a gringo because I'm not an American, you all are. This was all Mexico. This all belongs to you. I'm the gringo living on your land. But I really love you, I'll miss you so much."
She went on and on and on about how her house is filled with Mexican stuff, how much she liked the food, how her friends in school were all Mexican, how she goes to Mexico all the time, and declared over and over her love for Mexicans.
Meanwhile, the Latino waiting staff (I mean I don't know that they were Mexican, some could have been from Central and South America, one should never assume) stood around her and looked embarrassed, and wouldn't say anything back to her. The night manager tried to direct her away from her speech by asking her what cities she'd visited in Mexico, but as soon as she finished telling him (Rosarito, which is only a few miles from the border), the woman went back onto her Mexican love fest. I mean, I was embarrassed - to attribute something positive to an entire race is just as racist as attributing something negative - but the wait staff's reactions ran from mortified to condescending.
Finally, the woman's partner had enough - he told her he was done, and going to walk home.
"Gary," she called as he got up. "Gary, don't go. Gary, come have a glass of wine with me, and talk to these people. Gary! GARY!" She bellowed past me at the door. "Gary, I'm leaving soon, you'll never see me again. GARY! YOU SPENT THE NIGHT IN MY BED, COME BACK HERE!"
I hadn't turned a page in my book for twenty minutes.
Gary came back, and they moved to the bar to consume more alcoholic beverages. The woman quieted down, but wouldn't stop touching the poor customer sitting next to her at the bar, and wouldn't stop praising how wonderful the Mexican people are. I went back to my book - she was still there, long after I left.
This post marks my three year anniversary on LJ - I'm certainly doing better than I was in the previous two years, but not as well as I was doing in my first post. Oh, well, better is better than nothing.
