I’m from California Dammit!

A few years ago I spent time in the south.  My first stop was Atlanta, dinner was at Gladys Knights Restaurant downtown.  All around me, people were ordering large southern dishes, smothered chicken and meat loaf with Mac and Cheese, greens, pork chops.  Being the last to arrive I was the last to order,  I didn’t need a menu, after a long flight I wanted a small salad.  I wanted something light.    The waitress did a double take,  just a salad?  Yes I said, with the dressing on the side.  I asked for water in a region where Sweet Tea is considered water. As I looked up, seven sets of eyes are on me in disbelief. No one is talking. Not just at the table, our side of the restaurant.  People stopped talking.

To make matters worse I am big man at a table with big men.

Your having a salad?  Man are you on diet?  A salad, a salad ani’t gonna do nothing for you.  CONTROVERSY.  As the beverages arrive they are talking about me.  In my mind, I’m thinking all this over food?

As I looking around, there are no salads.  Just sides of green beans and peas. The whispers and questions continued,  CONTROVERSY all eyes are on me.

He’s from California, my friend announced!   To my fellow diners that made sense.  I guess only someone from California would order a salad in a soul food restaurant.

Yes, I’m from California Dammit !







No need to look at the menu. I knew what I wanted.I’m big man.  A big black man!  I’m 6.4 over 350 pounds.  Godzilla, to many Californians. A victim of carbs


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