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Work 4 Peace,Hold All Life Sacred,Eliminate Violence! I am on my mobile version of the door-to-door, going town-to-town holding readings/gatherings/discussions of my book "But What Can I Do?" This is my often neglected blog mostly about my travels since 9/11 as I engage in dialogue and actions. It is steaming with my opinions, insights, analyses toward that end of holding all life sacred, dismantling the empire and eliminating violence while creating the society we want ALL to thrive in

Saturday, October 28, 2017

It’s a fuckin parking lot for fucks be continued

I do complete my shower, get dressed, and return to the front desk. I ask to speak with whomever is in charge and I’m told that the CEO is on her way to speak with me. 

I wait in the lobby for a several minutes and then decide I better mosey on out to the parking lot and make sure my truck hasn’t been fucked with.

There is no longer a police presence nor are there many people roaming around. I check my tires, hoses, paint job then unlock the door and put up my gym bag. When I turn around, an angry large male is shouting at me from across the parking lot something about how he ‘served’ in Yemen and how dare I disrespect him and all of amerikkka but painting something so racist on the back of my truck. I ask him what he interprets as ‘racist’ but before he can say anything, a white womon appears shouting that she’s also a veteran and I’m the most racist person she’s met, more racist that Black people even.

Well, I’m musing on how to defuse them enough to dialogue and how to address that one when yet another white womon, this one small, brown hair also tied back in a pony tail that rests on her shirt collar, swiftly intercedes as she races to get ahead of these other two people.

She extends her hand, introducing herself as Marie, the CEO I’ve been waiting for. The first thing she tells me is she doesn’t want a political discussion, she just wants me to move my truck.

I have to chuckle as I tell her she’s already started a ‘political’ discussion by asking me to leave and what she really means is that she wants to put out her politics but doesn’t want to hear mine.

She assures me that I have no idea what her politics are, that she’s just ‘doing her job’. When I ask her what exactly that job is, she says it is against Y policy for trucks like mine to be in the parking lot. I question her “You mean a box truck or a camper cannot park in this lot?” as I throw a meaningful look at the RV parked about two isles over.

No I could park there if I didn’t have any political messages on my truck. I point out that I saw several other vehicles in the parking lot that have blatant ‘political’ messages on their cars when I drove in this morning so she must be discriminating against me. She shakes her head fervently and claims, stammering a little, that if I just had a few bumper stickers she wouldn’t object. I clarify so it’s not the content of my truck but the size that is against Y policy?

I continue as I ask her in my most reasonable but incredulous voice exactly which messages she’s objecting to: the “End Violence Against Womyn & Children” or the “Death to Racism” or perhaps the “Womyn growing peace, organic”?

I accuse her now of not upholding the Constitution and Bill of Rights. Plus I point out to her the large sign out front a few feet away that says the Y welcomes everyone.

She continues to tell me that if I had large confederate flags and a “Death to Black Lives Matter” signage on my truck instead, she would still ask me to move. I’m livid she would compare “Death to Racism” with “Death to Black Lives Matter and I tell her so.

Dripping wet & bareass naked

So I hear there’s a large crowd of white people and many police surrounding my truck in the parking lot so concern about vandalism and such, I cut my workout short – no swim – and start to take a shower. As the water is heating up, I hear someone call my name and I peek out to see a young womon with long brown hair tied back standing a few feet away and I ask her if she’s called me. She asks me if that’s my truck out there with all the writing on it. I smile broadly as I affirm that’s my baby. She tells me that she’s been sent to let me know I have to move it. I ask her why and she is joined by another white but older womon who says over her shoulder that it is against Y policy for me to park there. 

When she tells me I must come out of the shower and leave, I obey half her command. I turn off the water and step out from behind the shower curtain, bare ass naked still dripping wet and ask them who in the world they are? They haven’t introduced themselves to me and they’re wearing street clothes. They both identify themselves as Y employees, so I ask them to let me know what policy is this that I’m breaking. They both start sputtering that I must move and I nod agreeably and say again I need to understand what policy I’m breaking.

After a few moments of this, the older womon has the nerve to tell me to get dressed, I shouldn’t be standing there naked. I point out that she’s the one who told me to step out the shower. I do have pity on them & tell them I’ve completed my workout and if they let me complete my shower, I’m happy to be leaving this place.

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.