Road racism, redux.

Rather than choosing the safe path of steering clear of all race related topics, Jim went the other way and dove right back in yesterday for another chance to sound pretty insensitive. Here's the story:

After Oscar picked up Jim and I in the afternoon, Jim was again driving and Oscar again sitting shotgun. The two were plotting our route and making sure that we didn't need to wait at my stop for anyone else, so Oscar looks at the roster and reports that we didn't need to wait, we only had to pick up Won and Theiu. At this, Jim starts laughing, repeats "Won and Theiu" a couple of times and then says, "Won and Theiu, all we need is to get a rider name Ti" and laughed at his joke. Then he continued to repeat the joke and laugh at it at least three times.

The thing is, I really don't think that Jim means to sound the way he does. I think he's pretty kind and actually pretty accepting. He certainly tolerates Kristi better than I do. However, he does say some pretty inappropriate and stupid things. Like, once we were waiting to pick someone up and my mom called me on my cell. After talking with her for a few moments I hung up and Jim said, "It sounds to me like you have a Jewish mother." To which I responded, yes I do in fact have a Jewish mother. He turned red and then tried to backpedal, saying "well you know that's an expression that people use." I'm not Oscar, and didn't really let him off the hook and instead said something like "yeah, it's an expression based on a stereotype." Nevermind the fact that, at times, the stereotype totally fits in my case.

This highlights one of the biggest problems with the van: we're not friends, but we're not strangers. It's not like on the bus or the subway, where you might see someone again and again, if you have the same commuting schedule, but unless you're super friendly you're probably not going to talk (unless it's about whether said bus/train is late or early). But, we're not really friends either. I may know people's names, job titles and what agency they work for, but that's about it. However, we see each other so often that we often behave like we're closer than we really are.

Road racism...

This afternoon someone brought up the subject of rising food prices and food shortage-related riots that have been going on internationally. In response, Sara (a quiet newer rider) said off-handedly something akin to "and we wonder why people try to come into this country." In response, the driver, Jim, said something that I can't remember about illegal immigrants and Mexico and then checked himself saying, "Of course, we've got to be careful because we have an illegal immigrant here in the van with us," and gestured to Oscar who was sitting shotgun. [Here's some background that will prove useful for the rest of the story: Oscar is Filipino, his parents immigrated to the US, but he was born here. Other than Oscar, at least Sara and I know this about Oscar.]

Now, back to the story. Sara either didn't hear what Jim said, or more likely couldn't believe what she said and asked him to repeat himself. Meanwhile, Oscar and I start laughing uncomfortably. So, Jim starts to repeat himself, but rather than just resaying his earlier statement, he asks Oscar a series of questions that included at least the following:

• You're Mexican aren't you?


• Were you an illegal immigrant?


• Are you second generation American?


• Did you immigrate to the US?

Each of these was met with a prompt "No" from Oscar and uncomfortable laughter from Oscar, Sara and me. Finally, Jim asked Oscar, "So, where are you from." Oscar responded explaining his family's immigration history and in what was I think an effort to mitigate how badly he looked, Jim added "Well, you know I'm an immigrant too. I was born in Norway." Seriously.

Meanwhile, the conversation was so obviously awkward that sometime during Jim's questions for Oscar Kristi tried to alleviate the tension. While they were talking she would throw in things like: "Well aren't we all immigrants here?" Followed up with: "I know that my ancestors came from somewhere in Europe." It was actually kind of cute watching her try to alleviate the tension.

Directions for how to get a paper cut on your gums...

So, this morning I got to the van pickup site early. As I was waiting in my car I noticed that Kristi, in her car parked in front of me, was using a piece of a paper to floss her teeth (I could see her in her rear view mirror). Then, when that didn't work, she switched from the normal looking paper she had been using to something thicker looking (it looked like the type of card stock they use for fliers for 5Ks). Then she put down the card stock and started either scratching her head or combing through her hair with a crochet hook. Finally, she went back to the paper for another attempt at her teeth.

It was at once bizarre and fascinating.

next stop, over-played

Here are two jokes that are not funny:

1. Home, Jeeves. - said to the driver after the last person gets on the van in the afternoon.
2. Next stop, Georgetown. - said by the driver as we are pulling in to our parking area in the evening.

Seriously, these were mildly amusing the first time I heard them. But, after hearing at least one of them nearly every day for more than a year, I'm pretty much over them.

Pants revisited

This morning my pants ripped while I was on the van. I don't know how or when, I just looked down and saw thigh where I should have seen pants. (It's particularly annoying, since the pants are too big for me.) Anyhow, apparently today I would be interested in some pants.

Highway to Hell

This morning Kristi tried to give me a Bible. It was like one of those ones that Christian groups give out (or try to give out) at colleges and high schools, except with a black rather than green cover. She also told me that that "it might really help me." Now, I don't know what a good time would be to be proselytized by a crazy woman, but i can tell you with goddamn certainty that it's not before 7:30 in the morning.

She also tried to give a fellow vanpooler, Trent, a hideous king (or maybe wise man) bobble head doll. Among the many strange things about this woman is that her bag isn't really that big, and yet she has room for a knitting project that involves 3 rather large skeins of yarn, as well as the aforementioned bobble head doll, the small bible, and a DVD I've noticed her carrying around (i go back and forth imagining it's either Left Behind or The Rocky Horror Picture Show). Is a Scary Poppins joke too obvious?

Now, let me tell you the back story: When I got on the van this morning Kristi and Trent (the bobble head recipient) were discussing which lie was “worse for America’s youth,” the Clinton-Lewinsky lie or the WMD lie (this was at 6:40 in the morning). At the time I knew not to enter into this discussion, so I didn't until I heard this bit: "(George W. Bush) didn't lie, he didn't know what he was doing...he's a puppet. i think he's a good president and that he would be reelected if he were able to run again this year." I countered this assessment with something incredibly intelligent, like "there's no way, he's got historically low approval ratings and 80% of Americans think we're headed in the wrong direction. There's no way." Apparently this sentiment screams out "this girl needs saving."

I hope it's needless to say, but I declined the Bible. In fact, the more I deal with Kristi, I'm growing particularly proud of how politely I can decline something, especially considering that all of the offering happens before 8am.

I have one nagging thought about this, though. Which is worse the pants offer or the Bible offer?