I somehow got on this dining memory streak and because the writing muse has totally gone on a long vacation deep into the heart of some black hole, I will have to go with whatever memory string hangs loose in front of me and create a weave of a story from that. Wow. Enough mixed metaphors for you?
Lets go back to Guam for this dining memory. I was in my early twenties and full of career-minded visions. I was working in a vocational school for young adults from the islands and a conference or meeting or something resulted in my trip to Guam. I was living on a small island and flew out with one of the other teachers...a young Micronesian man. I cannot even remember what he taught. He was handsome and friendly and intelligent...looked a little like Benjamin Bratt except he was shorter. I was happily and newly married, so our travel together was strictly professional. We were staying at the same hotel and although he was attending a different meeting that day, we decided to have dinner together at the end of the day. As I look back on this it was probably my idea and he felt guilty letting me dine alone and accepted.
I do not remember how we selected the restaurant or even if we got there in a rental car. I remember that I was on some normal school girl planet and looked forward to eating a nice meal at the end of the day without another stray thought in my brain. As we entered the restaurant, I noticed subconsciously that my dining companion was acting a little odd. I could not put my finger on it, but I sensed something out of sync as we were shown to our table. He seemed ill at ease, and I, being the sophisticated married worldly gal, was concentrating on making small talk and smiling and trying to get him to relax. I thought, naively and egotistically, that he was just impressed with dining with an attractive woman his age, and concerned he didn't do anything stupid. I knew that many of these 'local' teachers probably did not get to eat out often.
The meal moved on, but there was still an oddness about the stiffness of his behavior. Mid-way he accidentally knocked a piece of silverware onto the floor. I winced, hoping it would not mortify him even more, because this sort of thing could happen to anyone. But, as he leaned over to pick it up I noticed two young men at a nearby table looking our way and chuckling with what appeared to be derision. Instantly, little miss attractive, got her brain in gear and a casual look around the restaurant revealed several couples and others (about 25%) staring at us with what was clearly rude condescension and/or reproach barely hidden. It was the first but not the last time I would be exposed to racism in all its subtle ugliness. But it was one of the few times I would find the derision directed at me and someone I was with.
We finished our meal and returned to our rooms. I did not talk about it. I think I was too young to try an intelligent conversation and I am thinking he was more than relieved for me to forget the whole incident.
I rarely have to keep my radar up as a middle class "whitie." I think it must be a real energy drain to always be compelled to have your radar running.