Humbled

I spent today with my parents.

We drove everywhere. It was a great way to really test out the new car that they bought. However it was during the most precarious of circumstances that I (re)learned an important lesson.

You see we were driving south of Atlanta. While initially that may come off as a rather mundane detail, what you must keep in mind is that we are talking about me. To me, south of Atlanta means traveling in rural Georgia. Rural Georgia means colonial Georgia. Colonial Georgia means bad stories. Silly bad stories.

So, not even 30 minutes after we drive past Atlanta, we get hungry. I was our driver for the moment and decided to pull into my favorite restaurant--Waffle House. It was only during parking did the thought occurred to me that I was no longer in Atlanta. Then I blurted out, "Are we in a part of town that has racists?" My dad assured me, "No! Are you joking? We're still in a good part of town."

I entered the establishment skeptical. Yet I couldn't have had better service. The Waffle House embodied everything I love so dearly about Wa Ho. Our server was extremely friendly (yet clearly tired). One of the cooks looked like they were missing a few teeth. And the food had enough grease to lubricate a vehicle. It was a good day.

But this pleasant experience never would've happened if I let my critical judgment take over me. Put simply, I didn't have enough faith in people. I thought about the scenario if there really were racist people in the restaurant. But what difference should that make? Hate crimes are no joke at all, but what contrasts hate more than ridiculous love? That's true distinction.

But I wasn't willing to even give people a chance. Hopefully, from now on I will.


Oh and the car is nice.