Life is kinda funny.

Yesterday, I wrote on here about my Southern heritage and how it includes my grandfather who had a Dutch father and a Chinese grandmother. I never ever thought that writing about that would come back to me later that day.

I’m on a W train heading home from work (and I do wish that they would make that W train express in Astoria again) and we get the stop just before mine. I’m sitting next to a door and I hear this woman turn and whisper to her friend, “I just don’t like Asian people. You know what I mean?”

Well that pissed me off. I stood up (not planning to get off where I was but I did anyway) and stood behind the woman and her friend. That’s when I got up on my soapbox.

“Ma’am, I couldn’t help but overhear you say that you didn’t like Asian people. For the record, my grandfather was Chinese and a very good man. You really should be more careful about saying things like that because you never know who is right next to you.”

She looked at me for a second, got very embarrassed (probably because I was making a scene on the train), and stammered out an “I’m sorry.”

“You’re right,” I said. “You’re a very sorry person. And, just so you know, I hate frumpy white women who don’t like people like my grandfather.”

Then I really enjoyed that walk home.