Untimely Demise

Ever passed out before?

Not like a dramatic "I've lost too much blood" passed out, simply a "there is not enough oxygen here" passed out. That's bad enough. Now do it in public. At a pizza shop. In front of your coworkers.

"So I say 'Just hit the ball, Ricky', and he says 'I just don't think you're taking a very respectable tone when you call me that'. And I'm thinking 'What, you can't just holler at me and tell me to shut up'. Look, it's 'Ricky' or I'm going to beat your ass. Just hit the ball." My ex-boss, whom I will refer to as Paul (his name isn't really Paul, but I have to protect my other friend.

I bring up the counter-point, "But he can't lose his cool with you, he has to come off as controlled and respectable. As a black man coming up in corporate America, you can't really be seen as irresponsible, it only validates the 'good ol' boy approach."

My friend and coworker, we'll call him Jason (he's the one we need to protect here), always has to disagree with me (sometimes he is right though, but not now). "I don't agree," he disagrees.

Paul says "No, Ronny's right, Ricky does have to go the extra mile."

Not one to admit defeat, Jason emits the most regrettable statement possible, "Well, maybe in front of his people."

An eruption of laughter. And I, just off having put a few ounces of carbonated beverage to wash down a little bit of pizza am left helpless, attempting not to soak the colleague next to me with my backwash and pizza flavored soda. I'm laughing so hard, I'm turning purple. I can't breathe, I can't swallow, I didn't think to spit. I lean over a bit, and things slowly turn black. A disconnected dive... I slowly slide from my chair and see the floor rush towards me.

Silence. Peaceful Silence.

Then a ringing. And laughter. And the feeling of elation for a new day. Only, it wasn't a new day. And I'm not here. But I'm here. Where Am I? I'm on the floor. The floor is hard, and my knee hurts. And I still can't see... it's so blurry. I hear laughter... Where am I?

I'm at the pizza place. My vision slowly recedes from is blackened cloak. And I look up. And the only question I can muster. "Why am I on the floor?"

More laughter.

"Why does my knee hurt?" But Jason's joke is days ago. No longer funny. Only a muddled confusion. And a piece of tomato stuck to my shirt.

But I did learn one thing:

Jason is a bigger racist than we all had assumed.