Diary of a Mad Black White Woman – Chicken and Waffles and Shame

I wonder if this restauranteur would have understood.

Dear Diary,

I guess I had it coming.

I did break an Oreo rule and consent to having a late night dinner at the RBP hangout Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles. But I was in the company of four non-colors, I thought I was safe. I thought for sure that everyone would see me for who and what I really am.

Sam, Chris and Steve parked first and put our names in at the door. At Roscoe’s, you cannot take a table until all members of your party are there. I was still looking for a parking space with Jason, so we were the two lagging behind.

(Ugh! That means I was late–another RBP thing! Man was I off my game)

Jason and I finally got to the door and Sam went up to the host.

“Our party’s all here now.”

The boys stood in a semi-crescent shape and I was standing in the middle of them, feeling safe and secure and protected by my blanchetourage.

The host looked me right in the eye, pointed at me, smiled and motioned for me to come towards him.

“And what party are you with? How many are you?”

I looked back to the boys, dumbfounded…and then I realized.

He didn’t think I was an Oreo hanging out with comedians after a late night show. He thought I was…an RBP, waiting to go inside and meet more of colors for a late night transfat celebration.

Luckily Sam came to the rescue, as I was too shocked to speak, and answered for me.

“She’s with us. Like I said, we’re all here now.”

The gears slowly turned in the host’s head, but he finally got it. Just in case he was still unclear, I did ask him where the “loo” was and if he knew how close we were to the Getty, the Museum of Modern Art and  the Equestrian Center.

Working in restaurants can be really stressful–I’ve seen Hell’s Kitchen and Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares! So I suppose I can grant him some leniency. What are your best/worst restaurant experiences? Let us know in the comments!

Click here for the time I turned this sitch around to avoid a line. Or to see the time the gmail stepped over the line.


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