May. 8th, 2006 08:37 am
Ethnic diversity in Uptown
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muckefuckI had left Bear Night relatively early--a little before midnight--and taken the Clark bus down to Winnemac, which I followed down to Broadway. In the block before the intersection, I heard children yelling and spotted a family group on the north side of the street moving in the same direction. Then I heard a voice from ahead of me call out "Happy Cinco de Mayo."
There was no one on the street. The family didn't seem to have noticed; not only were they showing no signs of Chicano revelry, but I'm pretty sure it was Vietnamese the adults were speaking. Then I noticed a head and arms leaning out of a window about ten feet above me. They belonged to a college-age man who had his elbows resting on the sill and a beer can in right hand.
"Happy Cinco de Mayo."
"Cinco de Mayo was yesterday. This is Polish Constitution Day."
"Are you Polish?"
"No."
"I am."
"So you should be celebrating."
"Dude, I hate the Polish!"
"Why?"
"I don't know, they smell funny."
At this point, I had moved past the bottom of the window. A swarthy man came into view behind me. The young reveler turned toward him and said,
"Happy Polish Constitution Day, I guess."
(Actually, the anniversary falls on the third of May. But it was on my mind since, earlier in the evening, my friend the Scoutmaster had been complaining about running into Polish Constitution Day Parade traffic downtown.)
There was no one on the street. The family didn't seem to have noticed; not only were they showing no signs of Chicano revelry, but I'm pretty sure it was Vietnamese the adults were speaking. Then I noticed a head and arms leaning out of a window about ten feet above me. They belonged to a college-age man who had his elbows resting on the sill and a beer can in right hand.
"Happy Cinco de Mayo."
"Cinco de Mayo was yesterday. This is Polish Constitution Day."
"Are you Polish?"
"No."
"I am."
"So you should be celebrating."
"Dude, I hate the Polish!"
"Why?"
"I don't know, they smell funny."
At this point, I had moved past the bottom of the window. A swarthy man came into view behind me. The young reveler turned toward him and said,
"Happy Polish Constitution Day, I guess."
(Actually, the anniversary falls on the third of May. But it was on my mind since, earlier in the evening, my friend the Scoutmaster had been complaining about running into Polish Constitution Day Parade traffic downtown.)
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