Off to film a music piece with the Royal Symphonic Orchestra at The Dorchester. All very posh, but ultimately rewarding for a lifetime of struggle in the lower echelons of society. Or it should have been.
Going to the event, we decided to take the London Underground with our equipment. Entering the tube carriage we took a seat, chattering and gibbering about the wonders ahead. As I settled on my seat, a women beside me began to speak to me; “Excuse me YOU hit me with YOUR bag as you sat down”. I was apologetic, but something told me she wasn’t that willing to accept it.
So i flipped it, and asked her why he could not just say this to me, with politeness or light-heartedness. She would continue to read her book in a passive aggressive manner and then laud how terrible I was. I was flabbergasted and told her that she was making a huge deal out of it. As she got up to leave for her stop, she wrly exclaimed “Surprised you didn’t bring out your race card”.
Race cards aren’t physical things we have for fun