"Hi," he said. "My name is Mike. I'll be your server for this evening. Can I start you off with breadsticks?"
I looked at the man, confused. I saw clothes and glasses on a man, but for some reason he appeared dark. I figured it was just the lighting in the room, so I took out my phone and shined the flashlight on him. To my bewilderment, he stayed dark and did not get lighter.
I figured that the man just needed more light, and pulled out my second phone (reserved for calling my high school ex girlfriend to leave her seductive voicemails late in the night) to shine a second light. Nothing. Still dark.
"Excuse me, sir," the waiter replied. "Can you please stop shining these bright lights into my eyes? I am very sensitive to light and I just want to take your order."
I apologized. "I'm sorry, my friend," I said. "I have just never seen a dark, chocolate-y gentleman such as yourself, and I wanted to confirm that I was not just living in a world of darkness, and that it was your skin."
The waiter nodded, understanding. I told him to bring me breadsticks, on the double, and if I saw him stop at another table on his way to the kitchen, I was going to fucking lose it. As he went to fetch me my breadsticks, I reflected on what I had witnessed. "A black person! Wow, what a concept," I thought to myself.
The waiter arrived with the breadsticks. I dumped them into my trashbag and immediately asked for more, saying "yum yum in my tum tum, I just ate all those nummy breadsticks, load me up buddy." He brought back more, I loaded up my trash bag, and then I decided it was time to go.
I asked for the check. "All you've had is water and free breadsticks," the waiter said, confused and a little annoyed. "So I don't think you have anything to pay us."
"Thanks a lot," I added. "Looks like I don't owe anything, so I'll give you a 15% tip of $0, which is nothing. Sorry, Mike."
I grabbed my trashbag and got up to leave. Before I was out the door, I turned to the waiter.
"But it's not because you're black."
