Is this not amerikkka?

I stopped off at the y this morning, as is my habit, and have a delightful conversation about my truck’s messages with the friendly receptionist as she checks me in. She’s one of the few Black faces I can spy amongst all the little soccer players and older youth heading onto the basketball courts in the bustling, very modern, spacious Y. I work out for thirty minutes on the treadmill and head back to the locker room to change into my bathing suit when newest friend at the desk motions me over to let me know that the police have been summoned and are surrounding my vehicle.

Grrrrrr I enquire whether I’m still in the u.s.ofa. which she assures me I am – I thought so.