An Allergic Reaction



White House Bowling Shoes



It’s quite common to observe metrophiles having a visible and sometimes audible display of dismay when entering a packed car full of kids being escorted on a field trip to the Capitol.  The reactions vary according to the grade levels.  This morning, it was all about 10^th graders. 

I wouldn’t say it was all bad.  I was lucky enough to occupy the last seat at the end of the car, near the door, facing another set of the usual suspects on their way to work.  From the looks of them, they have been saturated with incessant babble for quite a while.

Unfortunately, I forgot my ear buds.  But I did have a loaner to read and was confident that I could drown out the ambient noise of the rails grinding and sloshing the car about; and the deafening conversation of three affluent looking teenage girls who were trying to one up each other.

I almost succeeded.  I was at an interesting juncture in my book.  If only I had not rubbed my eyes and looked up.  There, sitting directly across from me was a doe-eyed African American girl in her work uniform, who looked like she was not any older than the three chatterboxes blocking the doors and balancing themselves on fancy pedicures and Patagonia sandals.  She was clutching her tiny purse on top of her huge belly, fidgeting in her seat trying to get more comfortable. 

Intermittently biting the corners of her mouth, my pregnant protagonist listened intently to the lanky blond aggrandizing her academic achievements to the equally lanky Indian girl and her shorter African American sidekick.  History is my passion, the blonde blurts out…I got a 200  in my PSATs….Well, I’m getting a 99.8 in my AP Chemistry, the Indian girl replies…and I’m all set to take a double period Honors Calculus class with Mr. so and so next semester …., said the sidekick.  On and on it went, from La Crosse meets to a Costa Rican summer of Biology.  Preggers soaks it all in.  I wonder what she is thinking about.

It’s not about race.  It’s all about economics.  Damn it!  I lost interest in my book.