| a story that's floating around:
Having her hair
done at a West Hempstead, NY, beauty parlor, a Woman told
a cautionary tale about racial prejudice. The story
deserves a wider audience.
On a recent weekend in Atlantic City, the woman
related, she won a bucketful of quarters at a slot
machine. She took a break from the slots for dinner with
her husband in the hotel dining room. But first she would
stash the quarters in her room. I'll be right back and
we'll go to eat," she told her husband and she
carried the coin-laden bucket to the elevator. As she was
about to walk into the elevator she noticed two men
already aboard. Both were black. One of
them was big... Very big... An intimidating figure.
The woman froze. Her first thought was: These two are
going to rob me.
Her next thought was: Don't be a bigot, they look like
perfectly nice gentlemen, even if one of them is awfully
black. But racial stereotypes are powerful, and fear
immobilized her.
She stood and stared at the two men. She felt anxious,
flustered, ashamed. She hoped they didn't read her mind
but knew they surely did; her hesitation about joining
them on the elevator was all too obvious. Her face
burned. She couldn't just stand there, so with a mighty
effort of will she picked up one foot and stepped forward
and followed with the other foot and was on the elevator.
Avoiding eye contact, she turned around stiffly and faced
the elevator doors as they closed. A second passed, and
then another second, and then another. The elevator
didn't move. Panic consumed her. My God, she thought, I'm
trapped and about to be robbed!
Her heart plummeted. Perspiration poured from every
pore. Then one of the men said, "Hit the
floor."
Instinct told her: Do what they tell you. The bucket
of quarters flew upwards as she threw out her arms and
collapsed on the elevator carpet.
A shower of coins rained down on her. Take my money
and spare me, she prayed. More seconds passed. She heard
one of the men say politely, "Ma'am, if you'll just
tell us what floor you're going to, we'll push the
button." The one who said it had a little trouble
getting the words out. He was trying mightily to hold in
a belly laugh. She lifted her head and looked up at the
two men.
They reached down to help her up. Confused, she
struggled to her feet.
"When I told my man here to hit the floor,"
one of the men, the average sized one, told her, "I
meant that he should hit the elevator button for our
floor. I didn't mean for you to hit the floor, ma'am.
He spoke genially.
He bit his lip. It was obvious he was having a hard
time not laughing.
She thought: My God, what a spectacle I've made of
myself. She was too humiliated to speak. She wanted to
blurt out an apology, but words failed her. How do you
apologize to two perfectly respectable gentlemen for
behaving as though they were robbing you? She didn't
know. The 3 of them gathered up the strewn quarters and
refilled her bucket. When the elevator arrived at her
floor they insisted on walking her to her room.
She seemed a little unsteady on her feet, and they
were afraid she might not make it down the corridor. At
her door they bid her good evening. As she slipped into
her room she could hear them laughing while they walked
back to the elevator.
The woman brushed herself off. She pulled herself
together and went downstairs for dinner with her husband.
The next morning flowers were delivered to her room ~
a dozen roses. Attached to each rose was a crisp one
hundred dollar bill. A card said: "Thanks for the
best laugh we've had in years." It was signed,
Eddie Murphy and Bodyguard.
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