I love reading, writing, and watching television (thank you Americas Next Top Model). However, in my “spare time,” when I really cannot get out of it, I go visit my girlfriend at college.
She goes to college up in the mountains of Virginia, it is a nice place if you love being alone, being bored out of your mind, and Wal-Mart is your home away from home.
It is like any other college in the sense of the cramming for exams, the binge drinking, and the “all you can scratch” free pass to the STD buffet.
As we walk up to her apartment, I see an abundance of blonde girls with their expensive purses and men in caps and polo shirts. I guess these are the standard uniforms for college kids who have too much time and money. I see so many white people it’s like I’m getting my own personal tour of the marshmallow fluff factory. I seem to be the only person of color within a 100-mile radius. As we enter her apartment, she asks what I want to do tonight and I respond with a “stay in.” She allows me to enjoy a pillow and a blanket tonight, what a nice girl.
The next morning we wake up and she insists that we go eat something while I insist I’m far to lazy to move. She definitely wins this fight because no man can ever win an argument with a woman when it is food related.
She gets online and starts reading these names of restaurants. One after another, same old thing that I could get back home. I want something new and exciting. Then she says one place “Fancy hill restaurant.” Do you believe in love at first sight? Well I do now. I must see this place and the fancy hill on which it resides. What fun adventures are in store for me?
She is driving instead of me for once and I get to sleep some more in the passengers side seat. We arrive to the “fancy” restaurant that is supposedly on a “hill” yeah it’s on a hill, a HILL OF LIES! The place is far from fancy, it is some old wooden shack that you would shove an unloved stepchild, in and it is not even close to a hill. We decide that it’s not that bad, so dine at this “fine” location.
The place is full of rednecks, truckers, and bikers. It is truly, what a half black half Middle Eastern person like my self loves to see. We get many a stares I guess these people still think white + anything but white = the devil.
The waitress surprisingly does not have heavy southern accent so she can’t be a racist like the rest of them. Then I notice every time she talks to me she does not look me in the eye. She must be scared of me, a proud member of the black panthers.
As I’m perusing the menu I see the usually items of grits and other southern things, but just then something catches my eye. Could this be true? Right there under the triple stack burger I see it: Confederate Burger.
I ordered it right away. That is when I realized that Martin Luther Kings dream had come true. I was eating in the same place as white people, and I could even eat food that was specifically aimed at white people.
You died for reason, so that a black man could take a big bite out of hate. With these teeth, I crush racism. With this ketchup, I drown the past. Not only am I swallowing meat (that I am sure is not cow), I swallow and digest the binds of my ancestors.
Thank you Confederate Burger.