On Tuesday November 2, 2010, I began my day at the Ikea in Red Hook, Brooklyn. My coworker and I got there at 10 o’clock ready to get the order for our office kitchen done. I had the sniffles. Unfortunately, we didn’t leave until 3:30pm. The combination of combative white shoppers and poor minority service not only prolonged my day, it worsened my sickness. This isn’t a random race rant done for shock value. Retain that part as it underscores my argument. The galvanized trample the complacent, the indolent. Always.
By the time we left Ikea, I had a full on migraine (flashing-lights-i-probably-shouldn’t-drive-type) and labored breathing. I returned to work, but after 30 minutes at my desk, I decided to give up the fight and go home. Somewhere past the thick traffic in Williamsburg, the jay walkers and car-sized pot holes in Bed Stuy, the slow vans in Crown Heights, I realized I forgot to vote. Damn! And because I move so much, I always keep my job as my mailing address which means I walked right past my polling place, got in my car and drove all the way to Flatbush before I realized I didn’t cast my ballot. An entire borough away! What should I do? Should I go back? Or should I walk the ten feet to my apartment and get in the bed? I returned to Manhattan.