Shaun – The Whitest Caucasian

Chaz’s viewpoint - It was a lovely night in Detroit. We had had gone to the Gem Theater and saw Jeff Daniel’s “Escanaba in the moonlight” with family and friends. Just a quick editorial – this play is will crack a few ribs from laughter. It is hilarious.

Anyways, the show was over, but the night was young, so we (Donna, I, Shaun, and his girlfriend at the time) decided to stay. We sat out on the patio and had another beer or two or three. It was a lovely display of symbolism for Detroit. We were sitting out side this beautifully designed, immaculate building with most patrons appearing well off and enjoying life. While across the street and two buildings down, there is a building that looks condemned with boarded up windows, trash all around, and a homeless man in the doorway. Ohh well, I digress.

As we are sitting on the patio, we realize that although the play was over the Gem was still hopping. I asked the waiter what was going on and was informed that there was a benefit for a local Jazz artist who had cancer. This sounded fun, so we decided to check it out. Alas, it was fun and provided a few stories, so here we go.

I had been drinking a lot of Bass Ale, actually a hellava lot of Bass. I was definitely in the “Buzz Zone”. The Buzz Zone is where you can still stand, walk, and talk straight, but life is good, everything is warm & fuzzy, and everyone is a friend. Due to the mass quantities of Bass, my kidneys were working overtime. I worked my way down the steps and got in line. While waiting in line, I began a conversation with the gentleman next to me. Now, I don’t really remember what we said, but the line was fairly long, so we talked for a couple of minutes. We each did our business and left. I wandered back to the patio, found the rest of the group, and went inside to continue my consumption of Bass.

Anyways, my kidneys continued to work and I had to make another trip to the bathroom. This time Shaun decided to come along. As we began our descent down the stairs, I noticed a gentleman coming up the stairs that looked familiar. Now I was on the far side of the Buzz Zone. I was in the area of the zone where synapses attempt to fire but don’t always spark; eyesight is narrowly focused; feet and hands don’t always follow directions; and the voice raises several volumes. In layman’s terms, I was getting “hammered”. Well, this gentleman was very familiar, but I could not place him. I was staring at him rather intently as we slowly came towards each other. Luckily for me, he was sober, or at least not as far gone as me, as he recognized me.

Apparently, I didn’t have my poker face on as he knew I was trying to figure out why I knew him. As we drew to within a few steps of each other, he says “bathroom”. This one word opens my mind to the memories and all is clear. This was the gentleman from my earlier trip to the bathroom. Relief flooded me as this mystery of life was solved. I looked at him, did this little acknowledgement gesture with my hand, and said “thanks”.

Well, I had forgotten about Shaun. I try to do this on occasion, but so far have always failed.

Some more background – this was a predominately African-American event. Our group of four probably made up the majority of Caucasians attending this event, beside the wait staff. The gentleman from the bathroom was African-American. Shaun is British and very Caucasian, hence the title of the story.

Well, Shaun had seen this exchange between me and the gentlemen. I don’t know what he was thinking. Actually, I am of the opinion that he wasn’t thinking at all. So after seeing this exchange, Shaun raises his fist in the traditional black power salute and loudly proclaims “Hey, My Bruuttther”. There became a zone of silence around us as everyone in a 10 foot radius briefly stopped and stared. My brain went blank as I tried to figure out why he did what he did and failed. The gentleman on his way up being a true gentleman shook his head, said “hello”, and continued up the stairs. Being the true friend that I am, I continued on to the bathroom.

Since we couldn’t talk in the bathroom due to Shaun’s "rules" of the urinal, I waited until we were back to the table before asking politely and softly, “What the hell were you doing?” As indicated by his behavior, Shaun was also in the far end of the zone. Shaun had no real answer, except it seemed like a good ideas at the time. Thus, he has earned the whitest Caucasian.