Last night Xy and I went out to Jamila’s Café for dinner.
As we sat at our table on the sidewalk, a bearded man lurched up, looked directly at me, and blurted, “I hate America.”
Without missing a beat or even blinking, I replied, “So do I.”
(If we’d been having a nice sit-down chat, I might have explained exactly what I loved and hated about America in a more thoughtful fashion, but under the circumstances I was happy to simply express solidarity with his discontent.)
He continued on his way without breaking stride, but over his shoulder he came back with, “Fuck you! You’ve never lived homeless.” And we couldn’t hear the rest, but he kept ranting for the rest of the block.
Too bad he didn’t come by five minutes later, when I was feasting on grilled scallops and Xy on lamb chops in a port wine reduction. That would really have fanned his flames.